CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MARIA
I zipped up the small overnight bag and exhaled.
One night.
That was all this was.
A night of putting on a dress, smiling for cameras, and pretending I wasn’t thinking about a kiss that should never have happened. One night of being alone with Lorenzo and pretending that I didn’t like the way he pinned me against my car and kissed me like I was all that mattered in the world to him.
One night of wanting him to do it again.
I shook the thought away and checked my reflection in the mirror. Hair—fine. Makeup—natural but polished. Dress—still in the closet, waiting for its moment. Everything was set.
Almost.
A knock on my bedroom door made me turn just as Kayla strolled in, her phone in hand and a wicked grin on her face.
“You’re trending,” she announced, waving the screen at me.
I frowned. “Trending?”
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know. “I’m just acting.’” She plopped onto my bed. “Maria Russo and Lorenzo Bianchi—the talk of the internet.”
My stomach dipped, but I grabbed the phone anyway.
The article on the screen had a giant photo of Lorenzo and me from some of our recent public outings: the school event and, of course, the restaurant. His arm was around me. I was staring at him like he was all I wanted. Both of us looked like we belonged to each other.
I skimmed the text and the comment section to read what people were saying about it. The more people we got talking about us, the more believable our relationship appeared.
“The city’s hottest couple?”
“A match written in the stars,” one user wrote.
“A modern-day love story full of passion. Romeo and Juliet reborn.”
I rolled my eyes. “They make it sound like we’re some kind of romance novel.” I turned away from Kayla so she didn’t see the pink that was already flustering my cheeks.
“Keep scrolling,” Kayla snorted.
I did. And there they were—the comments.
Some gushing over us. Some skeptical. And then the ones that made my throat tighten.
“Isn’t that the daughter of that criminal Russo? Can’t believe Bianchi is getting mixed up with her.”
“Leopards don’t change their spots. She’s dangerous.” My chest tightened. I knew my dad had a bad reputation, but getting to read about it felt strange.
“Bet she’s just like her father.”
I clicked the phone off and tossed it onto the bed. “Exactly what we wanted. A fake relationship convincing enough to get people talking.”
Kayla’s grin faded slightly. “That’s all it is?”
“Of course,” I said, reassuring myself.
“Really?”
I turned away, busying myself with folding a scarf that didn’t even need folding, a scarf I was sure I wouldn’t need. “What else would it be?”
She watched me for a long moment. “I don’t know. Maybe something real?”
My hands stilled. The laugh that left me was too sharp and forced. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed. Still trying to avoid her gaze because I knew she was already scrutinizing me.
“Maria, come on. You can’t tell me you feel nothing for Lorenzo.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I’ve always had a crush on him, alright? Since forever. But this? This isn’t real. And I refuse to start feeling things when I know it’s all for show.”
Kayla didn’t respond right away.
Then, softly, “But what if it could be?”
I didn’t answer—because I didn’t have one.
A sharp knock on the door saved me from figuring it out.
Luca’s voice rang through the apartment. “Maria, your prince charming is downstairs.”
I groaned. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Kayla grinned. “I am.”
I shook my head and grabbed my bag before heading toward the door.
Matteo was waiting for me in the living room, his little face scrunching up when he saw the bag. “You’re leaving?” he asked again for what would be the tenth time that day.
“Just for the night.” I crouched down, cupping his face. “Kayla’s going to take care of you.”
Matteo’s lips wobbled, but he nodded. I kissed his forehead. “Be good, okay?”
“Okay.” He sniffled, then brightened. “Can I have ice cream for dinner?”
I shot Kayla a look. I knew they always did that when I was not around. It was her way of winning him over.
She smirked. “Absolutely not.”
“Aw, man!”
Luca stretched, looking way too pleased with himself. “It’s fine, Matteo. If she had left you with me, I would have let you.”
I sighed. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t.”
Luca clutched his chest like I’d wounded him. “I am offended.”
“You’ll survive,” I smirked, then glanced at Kayla. “Take care of him.”
Kayla blinked. “Matteo?”
“No.” I jerked my head toward Luca. “Him. He’s a child at heart.”
Kayla let out a laugh. “I’ll do my best.”
“I don’t like the way you two are talking about me,” Luca muttered.
Kayla ruffled his hair. “It’s okay, buddy. We love you anyway.” But he shoved it away with a smile forming on his face.
I laughed and shook my head, heading toward the door.
Luca called after me. “Hey, wait. Shouldn’t I be telling Lorenzo to take care of you?”
I waved him off. “I can take care of myself.”
“Still.” Luca’s voice turned sly. “Maybe I should go downstairs and warn him not to try anything funny tonight.”
I groaned. “Luca—”
But it was too late. He was already heading out the door. By the time I stepped outside, Lorenzo was leaning casually against his car, looking like he was made to fit into everything damn thing he ever wore.
Luca crossed his arms. “Bianchi, don’t try anything funny tonight.”
Lorenzo smirked. “I’ll try.”
Luca squinted. “What do you mean try?”
Lorenzo grinned wider.
“Luca, stop insinuating things!” My face burned as I grabbed Lorenzo’s wrist and pulled him toward the car. “And Lorenzo, stop feeding his thoughts.”
Lorenzo laughed. “What? I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to!”
He grinned at me in a way that felt both sinful and pleasurable before he got into the driver’s seat. My pulse was beating way too fast because now, thanks to Luca, all I could think about was Lorenzo “trying” something. And the fact was that I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to “Try.”
The drive to the outskirts of town passed in a blur of headlights and the quiet hum of the engine. We passed a few landmarks, which I pointed out to Lorenzo like he didn’t know the city as well as I did, or even more.
Lorenzo wasn’t much for conversation. It was almost like he was in his head throughout the drive, but I didn’t mind. My thoughts kept me busy enough, mostly about the fact that we were spending the night at a hotel.
Of course, in any romance novel, this would be the part where we arrived at the front desk, and the receptionist, looking apologetic but secretly pleased, would say, “I’m so sorry, but we only have one room left.”
Then, Lorenzo and I would be forced to share.
There’d be some awkward but undeniable longing to be with each other. There would be some moment when he’d watch me from across the room as I got ready for bed. Maybe there would be a moment when we’d end up too close, neither of us moving away. There’d be a moment where I would agree he gets into the bed with me and…
I had read enough books to know how this scenario usually played out. But thankfully, reality had a different script.
We checked in. Two rooms. No drama. Perfect.
Lorenzo handed me my key. “Freshen up. We’re leaving in an hour.”
I gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
He smirked but walked off toward his room.
The second my door shut behind me, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. He didn’t say so much during the ride, but there were a lot of unspoken words that I could deduce from the way he glanced at me for split seconds before putting his eyes back on the road.
The gala was just another performance. Smile, pose for the cameras, and pretend my stomach didn’t still flip when I thought about our kiss. Easy.
I undressed and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water calm my nerves. But it wasn’t until I got out, towel-drying my hair, that I realized something was very, very wrong.
My dress. I had picked a sleek, backless gown that tied at the nape of my neck, elegant and stunning. But there was just one problem. I couldn’t tie it myself. Panic set in fast.
“No. No, no, no,” I muttered, twisting my arms behind me, trying to somehow grab the delicate fabric. My fingers fumbled, slipping, failing miserably.
“Why does shit like this always happen to me?” I let out a frustrated groan.
I had two options.
One: Rip the dress off, pretend it never existed, and show up in pajamas, effectively ending my social life. Two: Ask for help.
I shut my eyes. I hated this. I hated the thought of knocking on Lorenzo’s door like some helpless damsel in distress, asking him to tie my dress like some blushing heroine in a period drama. But I had no choice.
Muttering a string of curses, I grabbed my room key and padded barefoot down the hall. I was just about to knock when I heard it. Lorenzo’s voice. He was on a call. I paused.
“Dante, listen to me. We can’t lose that shipment.”
I froze. His voice was low, firm, and edged with a sharp undertone.
“The site at the docks close to the valley city—yes, that one. I don’t care what you have to do. Just make sure it gets to where it’s supposed to go. No mistakes.”
I inched closer. The docks? A shipment?
“I believe that it shouldn’t be a hassle, but in case anything happens, you know what you do.”
Something cold slid down my spine. I didn’t like the way he said it. It felt almost cold. I leaned in, trying to catch more, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs.
“Check the perimeter before you move. I don’t want another repeat of last time.”
A floorboard creaked. My breath hitched. Shit! Knowing I had just made a sound. The conversation inside paused.
I bolted. Practically sprinting back to my room. I pressed my back against the door, my chest heaving.
Shit.
I shouldn’t have heard that. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but it sounded so much like the words my dad used when he was still alive and running shady dealings. But Lorenzo also had clubs and a casino, so I could be wrong and just reading meaning into things.
I pulled out my phone, fingers shaking slightly as I typed in the location he mentioned. A second later, the search results popped up. And I felt sick. A raid. A police raid at that exact site months ago. For weapons and drugs.
My stomach lurched.
I knew Lorenzo wasn’t a saint. I wasn’t naive. But something about this felt different, more dangerous, and more real.
I set my phone down, staring at the screen like it might tell me something else, something that made sense. But it didn’t. Instead, I was left with a lot of questions I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to.
And for the first time since this arrangement started, I realized I might not know Lorenzo Bianchi at all.