Prologue #2
I’ll pick up all those weights and carry them on my shoulders again tomorrow morning.
But tonight, I want to pretend I can be someone else, anyone else, and give in to this electric chemistry with a guy I’ve never met before and probably won’t see ever again.
Judge me if you want, but I need this so I can keep going at my frenetic pace.
A step off the straight and narrow path, a momentary walk on the wild side I used to visit regularly, and a tiny bit of crazy so that I can stay sane with everything else going on.
“Yes?” It’s more air than sound, and I swear he leans in as though he wants to feel my breath along his cheek.
“Would you like to go—"
Before he can finish whatever he’s trying to say, strong fingers grip my arm. “Abi, there you are. It’s time for the toasts and you’re second in line after the best man.”
Erica, Courtney’s wedding planner, doesn’t give me a chance to say no or even to pause, simply hauling me toward the front of the room with surprising strength.
Erica has been an amazing help planning the wedding of Courtney’s very specific dreams, but right now, I could kill her without a single blip of remorse for cockblocking me.
I look over my shoulder to see Lorenzo’s gaze trailing me. His eyes are heated, his look hungry.
Tink, tink, tink.
The sound of a spoon tapping on a glass quiets the room, even the DJ lowering the now classical music to something soft, keeping it as mere background noise.
Ross, my brother, stands at the front of the room looking comfortable as can be as every eye turns to him. “I’ve got a few things I’d like to say about the man marrying my sister and a few more about the woman marrying my best friend.”
A small titter of polite laughter works its way through the crowd.
And Ross does what he does best—play to his audience.
His jokes are funny without being too revealing, his words are sweet and sentimental, and his advice is seemingly on point for someone who’s only been married a short time himself.
As I take my place at the microphone, a hot flash of nerves spikes, washing away my previous desire in an instant.
But I speak from the heart, wishing my sister a lifetime of happiness and threatening her new husband with death and dismemberment if he so much as says one mean word to her.
He smiles like I’m kidding, and I slash a line across my throat with my thumb to show that I’m dead serious.
Not that Kaede McWarren needs the warning.
He’s been in love with Courtney forever at this point.
I’m happy they finally found their way to each other—with a little help and a push from yours truly.
I love love and want everyone to find their special someone.
And one day, I’ll have time for that too, once I pay off the loans and get a few more special events checked off my calendar.
I scan the room looking for Mr. Right Now because I don’t have time for anything more. Definitely not for Mr. Right.
I find Lorenzo’s eyes, dark and piercing as he looks at me, and I feel exposed, as if he’s seeing into my soul. He’s leaning against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted as though he’s working at something in his mind though his gaze never wavers.
Quicker than a blink, he spins on his heel and walks out the double doors.
Does he mean for me to follow him? I can’t exactly leave right now, in the middle of Courtney’s reception.
Or maybe he wants me to follow him out to the more private hallway?
Or a bathroom? My gray-haired imaginary story flashes through my mind, bringing a smile to my face.
I could be down with a little risky business as long as we don’t get caught.
I make my way across the room, pausing for a split second when Aunt Gertrude grabs for my arm and offers kind words about my speech. But as I thank her, her true intentions become clear. “Hopefully, you’ll be next, dear. Such a pity your younger sister beat you to the punchline.”
“Mmmhmm,” I say noncommittally. It doesn’t bother me that Courtney is married now and I’m not. We’ve never been competitive like that, and I’m truly happy for her. But Aunt Gertrude is slowing me down from something more important than her instigating ways. “Excuse me.”
I pop into the hallway just in time to see another door closing, the click sounding like a secret.
I take a quick moment to straighten my dress, smooth any stragglers of thick hair back into my perfectly coiffed updo, and take a deep breath.
Through those doors is a much-needed moment of release that will hopefully involve at least one orgasm.
Hell, let’s make it three. I’m feeling hungry tonight.
No sense in being stingy because this memory is going to be what gets me through the next few weeks of head-down hard work.
With a smile of expectation on my face, I turn the handle of the door and step through. “Lorenzo?” I ask softly, only to be greeted by the cool chill of night air.
I guess I got turned around leaving the ballroom and didn’t realize this door led outside. I wrap my arms around my body, conserving heat as I look for my knight in tattooed armor and consider how I can best have car sex in this dress without ruining it.
That’s when I hear a motorcycle revving. A bright headlight catches my attention, but the silhouette is unmistakable. Of course he rides a motorcycle. Any self-respecting bad boy wouldn’t be caught dead in some sensible sedan that gets great gas mileage.
I think Lorenzo is going to stop, sweep me off my feet, and ride off into the night with me, my dress blowing in the wind dramatically. But he rides right past me without so much as a glance.
My jaw drops as his red taillight disappears into the night. I basically just grinded with him on the dance floor, thought we were going for an all-nighter with zero strings—most guys’ dream proposition—only to be left high and dry, standing alone on the concrete steps.
Well, not dry since I’m most definitely wet beneath my panties.
Traitorous pussy, he left us! We don’t want him!
One last clutch of my core reminds me that I want something, but it’s definitely never going to be Lorenzo Toscani.