Chapter 16
Vanessa
“Shouldn’t you be home with your son instead of stalking your fake wife?”
I just walked into the casino, ready to start my shift, and was shocked to find Lorenzo sitting at the bar, drinking a whiskey, especially since I left Leo with him not too long ago.
It’s been a week since Leo was hurt and I started watching him, and everything has been going smoothly. I’m with him during the day, and I do my quizzes and assignments while he naps. Once Lorenzo gets home, he makes dinner, and then I get ready to go to the casino.
When I left this evening, he didn’t mention coming by here, so I’m not sure what his agenda is.
“A bit full of yourself, aren’t you?” Lorenzo smirks devilishly. “I have a meeting with Matteo, Dominick, and a few other investors regarding the waterfront expansion project,” he explains. “They flew in and couldn’t meet until this evening.”
I nod in understanding, having heard him mention the waterfront project a few times since I moved in with him.
Apparently, Leysa tried to mess with it, but they were able to get it handled, and they’re back on track.
From what Lorenzo said, it’s going to be a beautiful addition to South Harbor Point with hotels, condos, and shopping.
“And Leo?” I ask.
It might not be my place to ask, but Lorenzo understands that I care about his son.
“I left him with a bottle of whiskey and your playing cards,” he deadpans. “Told him he’d better practice if he wants any chance of beating you when he’s older.”
I snort out a laugh. “Wow, the grump has jokes,” I say, ignoring the aching feeling in my gut at the thought that when he’s older, I won’t be here. Maybe Lorenzo will let me keep in touch. Even though my mother is dead to me, I still plan to visit Nicole.
“He’s with Dani,” he clarifies.
“Good,” I quip. “He’s too young to have a gambling problem.”
I shoot him a playful wink and grab his glass to get him a refill and then work my way around the bar, seeing what everyone needs.
A few minutes later, Lorenzo gets up and joins the other men at a table, where they spend the next couple of hours talking and drinking.
I usually don’t pay attention to what’s happening outside of the bar area, but because I keep glancing at Lorenzo—where I catch him glancing back at me—I notice a man sitting at the blackjack table that’s closest to the bar. And after a few rounds, I’m almost positive he’s counting cards.
I watch a few more rounds to make sure I’m not wrong, and when it’s clear that’s what he’s doing, I glance at the table where Lorenzo is sitting, trying to decide if I should say something.
I should mind my own business. I’m simply here to make some money. But Dominick was nice enough to offer me this position, and I feel like I owe him for that.
So, when I know everything is under control, I tell Lyra I’ll be right back, and I walk over to the table where Lorenzo, Dominick, Kane, and Matteo are sitting—the other men having already left.
Lorenzo’s eyes meet mine, and then he rakes his gaze down my body, causing a shiver to roll through me. He might not want to want me, but that doesn’t stop him from doing so. And if I’m honest, a part of me—the part that should be locked up with a chastity belt—wants him too.
“Have you guys met my wife?” Lorenzo says, his tone playful, obviously having had too much to drink.
The guy is a total lightweight, but when he drinks, he turns into a shameless flirt, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.
Only he usually drinks and flirts in the privacy of his home.
I dip my head in embarrassment, and Dominick and Matteo chuckle.
“C’mere, wifey.” Lorenzo hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me into his lap.
“Lorenzo!” I hiss through my laughter at his antics.
“What?” He pouts, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.
In this position, I can smell his woodsy scent, mixed with the spiciness of the whiskey he’s been drinking, and it’s a total aphrodisiac.
“Do you know how hard it is to watch you strut around in this sexy outfit and flirt with all those men, knowing I can’t have you?” he mutters as he situates me on his lap.
Like this, I can feel his bulge between his legs, and while I don’t have any bulges to compare his to, it feels long and thick.
“I’m working,” I breathe, but I make no move to climb off him. “And I need to talk to Dominick.”
“Of course you do,” Lorenzo groans. “Everyone gets your attention but me.”
Kane, who’s sitting the closest to Lorenzo, snorts out a laugh, telling me he can hear everything that’s being said, and I feel my face heat up.
“Everything okay?” Dominick asks.
“Yeah.” I try to get up, but Lorenzo tightens his hold on me, and for some crazy reason, I give in and sigh back into him. “The guy at the blackjack table … the one closest to us,” I murmur, leaning in so nobody else can hear, “he’s counting cards. Has been doing it for several rounds.”
Dominick’s gaze flits over to where I’m talking about.
“How do you know that?” Matteo asks.
“She’s a shark,” Lorenzo says with a smirk, kissing the top of my shoulder. “Kicks my ass in blackjack damn near every time we play.”
Dominick, Matteo, and Kane all look at me with renewed eyes, and I shrug, not liking the spotlight on me.
“I’ll handle it,” Matteo says, standing.
I nod and push off Lorenzo.
When he pouts like a child, I shake my head. “I need to get back to work.”
“Or … you could come home with me. I’m sure I could find a way for you to earn some money that didn’t involve you flaunting those perfect tits and ass around for other men.”
My eyes widen at his words, and I take a step back.
“Did you just offer to pay me for sex?” I hiss.
“Oh shit,” Kane says with a low whistle.
“What? No,” Lorenzo splutters. “I was just—”
I lift my hand to silence him. “Stop talking. You’ve said enough.”
I go back to the bar, and because it picks up, I don’t pay attention to what happens with the guy or notice when Lorenzo leaves. But when my shift ends, instead of the manager giving me my payout for the night, I’m met with Dominick.
“You were right,” he says. “My security went over the footage. They’re usually good about catching that shit, but he was damn good.”
“I guess it takes one to know one,” I mutter.
“It could’ve cost the casino a lot of money, and he’s a regular, so who knows how many times he’s done it or planned to do it in the future?
We also found out he was paying off the dealer.
” He hands me my envelope. “I put a little extra in there as a thank-you. I appreciate when our employees are loyal.”
“Thank you.” I reach out to take it, but he doesn’t release it.
“Lorenzo’s been through some shit,” he says. “His parents being murdered in their sleep, his ex being a conniving bitch. Then some woman shows up and cons him into marrying her.” He quirks a brow.
“Lorenzo’s a big boy.”
“He wears his heart on his sleeve. Just go easy on him, Vanessa.” He releases the envelope and takes a step back. “What he said earlier … he’d been drinking, and I think you’ve gotten his head all fucked up.”
I can relate, I think, but don’t voice out loud.
Instead, I hold up the envelope and thank him again and then hightail it out of there.
Sal is waiting for me, and once I’m back at the condo, I tiptoe through the place, not wanting to wake Lorenzo or Leo.
But when I peek into Leo’s room to check on him, his crib is empty.
“He’s spending the night at my sister’s,” Lorenzo says, leaning against the doorway.
Tonight, he’s sporting his usual basketball shorts, sans shirt, and I’m given an up-close look at the ink that dances across his skin.
“I drank too much and didn’t want to drive with him in the car.”
“You drove home?” I quirk a brow.
“No, I had Sal take me.” He steps toward me and cups the side of my face.
“I’m sorry about what I implied earlier.
It was only meant to be a joke, but it came out wrong.
You’re driving me insane,” he murmurs, running his fingers along my cheek and to my jaw.
“I feel like I’ve lost all control of my life since you walked into it. ”
He pinches my chin and tips my face up, forcing me to look at him. “You’re all wrong for me. Too young, too reckless, too unpredictable. Like a fucking wild card.” I swallow the emotion down as he continues, “You don’t play fair, Wild Card.”
His nickname flows through my veins, first hitting my heart and then sliding down to my belly, tightening it, before ending at the apex of my legs, causing me to clench my thighs in need.
Holy shit, how can two simple words cause such a reaction out of me?
“But I can’t stop playing,” he mutters. “I know you’re going to win. But I can’t stop fucking playing.”
Before I can respond—not that I have any clue what to say to that—his mouth descends on mine. His lips are smooth, firm, perfect, caressing my own.
His tongue slides along my bottom lip, then the top. And then he shocks me when he bites down on my lip, his hands twisting in my hair.
I gasp as the pain mixed with pleasure radiates through my body.
Lorenzo pulls me closer so our bodies are flush against one another, and I feel his desire pressing into my lower belly.
His tongue delves between my parted lips, stroking, teasing, devouring. He tastes like the perfect mix of whiskey, seduction, and regret.
And then it hits me … whiskey.
He tastes like whiskey because he’s been drinking.
“Stop,” I breathe out, gently shoving him back and breaking the kiss.
The loss I feel is immediate, but I push the thought to the side as his heated gaze pierces into me with confusion.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“I’m not drunk,” he mutters, lifting his hand and stepping toward me. “And unless you slipped something into my drink …”
It’s meant as a joke—I know that from the way the corner of his lips is playfully quirked upward—but him bringing up what I did only cements that this can’t happen.
We might be attracted to each other, but nothing can come from it. I’m only here because of the threat on my life, and he’s only letting me stay here out of guilt—and because I drugged him and bribed someone to marry us.
“This can’t happen,” I choke out, taking a step back. The look of rejection on his face damn near has me giving in, but I can’t risk it. “You might not be drunk, but if we let this go any further, you’ll regret it in the morning.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but I softly press my two fingers to his lips to silence him.
“That was without a doubt the best kiss I’ve ever experienced,” I tell him, not giving a shit how inexperienced my admission makes me sound. “But that’s all it can be.”
And then I disappear down the hall and lock myself in my room, knowing if I don’t, I might change my mind and do something I may or may not regret.
“Oh, my sweet boy.”
I lay Leo in his crib and turn on the baby monitor, thankful he finally fell asleep.
It’s been a long afternoon.
He woke up cranky, which should’ve been my first clue something was up.
I changed his diaper, got him dressed, and made his breakfast. He seemed okay the rest of the morning, but then, while we were playing after he picked at his lunch, just before nap time, he looked at me with a weird expression, and a moment later, he projectile-vomited everywhere.
Because Lorenzo had important back-to-back meetings, I called Peyton since she has the most experience with three kids, and she said there’d been a bug going around and to check his temperature. Thankfully, he didn’t have a fever, so she recommended I give him a bath and keep him comfortable.
I kept him awake for a little bit to make sure he wasn’t going to throw up again, and when his eyes drooped, I laid him down.
I have a quiz due by midnight and a paper I need to submit, and I have a shift I need to work later. But right now, the only thing I’m focusing on is taking a quick shower because as much as I love Leo, I don’t love the smell of throw-up that is no doubt lingering on me.
With the baby monitor set on the counter so I can see and hear him in case he throws up or wakes up, I strip out of the vomit-filled clothes and toss them into the hamper.
Then I jump in the shower, scrubbing every part of me and my hair—twice. Once I’m clean and the vomit smell has been replaced with the scent of vanilla, I turn the water off and reach for my towel, only to be met with nothing.
“Shit.” I was in the middle of doing my laundry, and I threw my towels into the washer since I generally don’t shower during the day.
I glance around for anything I can use, but aside from the throw-up-covered clothes, there’s nothing.
“Welp, guess I’m going to have to make a run for it.”
The moment I step out of the shower and open the bathroom door, I’m hit with the cold air. I take a deep breath and then sprint through my room and into the hallway to grab a towel from Lorenzo’s bathroom since his room is closest to mine.
As I carefully race down the hallway, trying not to slip and kill myself, water drips down my body and onto the floor, and I wonder if there would’ve been a better way of going about this, but since I’m already halfway there, I keep going.
I make it into Lorenzo’s room and grab one of his towels when I hear my cell phone ring.
“Shit!” I hiss, not bothering to wrap the towel around me as I race back to my bathroom to answer it.
After the morning Leo had, the last thing either of us needs is his nap being cut short.
“Hello?” I breathe out, not bothering to see who’s calling.
“Why the fuck are you running around my house naked?”
“Lorenzo?”