Chapter 18
Vanessa
How I went from drugging and marrying Lorenzo to going on a date with him, I have no clue. And if I were smart, I would recognize that this probably wasn’t the best idea. I’m living with him because I was being threatened and he took pity on me and let me stay with him.
Yet the flirting, the banter, the amazing kiss … the date we’re currently on—it doesn’t feel like pity. It feels like my fake husband wants to date me. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I always told myself I wouldn’t consider settling down until my future was secure so that I could say that, unlike my mother, I was independent and never had to depend on a man. That everything I accomplished was because of me and me alone.
And it was easy to do that when I went to an all-girls boarding school. And the majority of the guys in college are so immature that they make it hard to want to date them.
But then along came Lorenzo. Not only is he a wonderful father, but he’s also sweet and responsible and selfless. He’s a good brother, a loyal friend, and if I met him five or maybe ten years from now, I wouldn’t hesitate when he asked me out on a date.
He’s like the perfect man, but at the wrong time.
But that didn’t stop me from agreeing to go out with him.
I told myself it was because Matteo was going to use the date to try to lure Leysa Santiago out. But if I’m honest, I wanted to go out with Lorenzo because I like him and want to spend more time with him, even if we don’t have a future. Which is something I think we should talk about.
“What’s going through that head of yours?” Lorenzo asks, glancing at me before putting his eyes back on the road.
“What is this … what we’re doing … what is it?
” I cringe when I hear the way that came out and then try to backtrack.
“What I mean is, I like you, and I wanted to go on this date with you, but if you’re looking for more, like long-term …
” I groan. “I’m sorry. That sounded so juvenile.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you’re looking for something serious or casual because with everything going on and me still in school …
I’m not sure what I can commit to. And you mentioned before that you don’t do hookups, but I don’t know if you’ve changed your mind and—”
“Vanessa, breathe,” Lorenzo says with a soft smile.
“We’re just going on a date. When I said I don’t do hookups, I was referring to meaningless sex.
But you and I have already had sex”—he quirks a brow, and I go still, praying he doesn’t notice—“and if we were to have sex again, it wouldn’t be meaningless. ”
He threads his fingers through mine, and I instantly relax.
“I care about you, and I know that your school and future career need to come first, and I’m not trying to get in the way of that.”
“Okay,” I breathe. “So, where does that leave us?”
“At Pasquale’s,” he says, nodding toward the Italian restaurant he just pulled in front of. “Having dinner and spending time together.”
“And what about sex?”
“They probably frown on fucking in their restaurant, but if you really want to—”
“Lorenzo!” I gasp, smacking his chest. “I’m serious.”
He chuckles. “How about we just take it one day at a time? Enjoy each other’s company and get to know each other. We don’t have to have everything figured out right now.”
I release a harsh breath and nod. “Okay, one day at a time.”
He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Stay here so I can open the door for you.”
As I watch him round his car and butterflies swarm in my belly, I wonder if we’re both being reckless by ignoring the fact that whatever is going on between us isn’t going to end well. I mean, how could it? My life is in Seattle, studying fashion design, and he’s a single dad in Harbor Point.
But then he opens the door and extends his hand for me to take, and I push the negative thoughts to the side. Life is short. I was almost taken and sold to a sex trafficker. Sure, the chemistry between us might burn us alive. But what a way to go …
“Okay, so hear me out. On our way in, I noticed the cutest ice cream truck, and I know we just had cannoli for dessert, but …”
I bat my lashes, and Lorenzo shakes his head.
“Woman, you’re like a bottomless pit. You had garlic knots, a salad, minestrone soup, calamari, lasagna, and cannoli.”
“Don’t forget the meatballs the owner brought out for us to try because they know you.”
“Jesus, you’re right. Where does it all go?”
He reaches over since we’re sitting next to each other in the booth and tickles my side.
“Hey!” I screech, swatting his hand away. “I’m young, and I have a good metabolism. It’s not my fault you’re old and you have to work out every day to look the way you do.” I reach over and pinch his nonexistent fat. “Don’t hate.”
“Did you just call me old?” he taunts.
I quirk a brow and poke his rock-hard abs. “If the shoe fits.”
“Oh, I’ll show you old.” He reaches around and cradles the back of my head, then pulls me toward him for a toe-curling kiss that causes my heart to lurch in my chest.
When an embarrassingly loud whimper escapes me, he pulls back, ending the kiss way too quickly.
“Let’s go get some ice cream before I lay you out on this table, fellow patrons be damned, and eat you for dessert.”
I glance at the table, imagining him doing just that, and his lips twitch in amusement, telling me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“As enticing as it is, when I do taste you, I’m going to want to do it in private, where I can take my time and enjoy every morsel of your body.”
We slide out of the booth, and Lorenzo wraps his arm around my waist, guiding me toward the door while making sure I’m protected, and I sigh into his touch, craving it.
Since the moment he took my hand to help me out of the vehicle, he’s been touching me, and every time, I relish in it.
When he insisted that we sit next to each other in the booth, I was confused until his hand slid along my bare thigh—thanks to the cute, ruched floral midi dress I’m wearing—and he spent the meal stroking my flesh while we conversed and ate.
When we step out of the restaurant, a light, warm breeze hits us, and goose bumps prickle my skin.
“I let Matteo know what we’re doing,” Lorenzo whispers, pocketing his phone and threading his fingers through mine.
The ice cream truck is on the outskirts of a pretty park that has a large pond with a lit-up fountain in the center. I haven’t been on a date in years, but I have to say this one is kind of perfect.
“What can I get for you this evening?” the gentleman asks from inside the truck.
“I’ll take a cookies and cream milkshake with whipped cream, please.”
“And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have some of hers,” Lorenzo says, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“You will not,” I say in jest, glancing up at him.
“Fine, then I’ll just eat you.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck. “It was my original plan anyway.”
I snort out a laugh and shake my head, pulling my card out of my purse.
“Not happening,” Lorenzo murmurs, tapping the screen with his card first and making me huff in annoyance.
I let him pay for dinner since it was a date and he insisted, but he’s not even getting any ice cream.
“I know you can afford your own ice cream,” he says, pulling me toward the side while we wait for my shake. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t pay for it. This date is my treat.”
He leans over and brushes his lips against mine, and like always, I sigh into his touch.
I’m about to deepen the kiss when the gentleman calls out that my order is ready, and Lorenzo releases me to grab it.
My eyes are solely on him—and his sexy ass that fits his dress pants perfectly—so I don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.
A hand covers my mouth to prevent me from screaming as I’m yanked back and out of sight of the ice cream truck. Strong arms band around me, stopping me from fighting back, and even though I try to kick and pull out of the person’s hold, my gut tells me that this is it. I’m going to be taken.
And as I’m dragged farther away into the dark, my heart breaks at the thought of never seeing Lorenzo or Leo again.
“Stop right there!” Lorenzo barks, causing the person dragging me to lose their footing.
It’s only for a split second, but it’s long enough that I’m able to squirm out of their hold and kick them in the shin.
They stumble back just as Lorenzo catches up and starts to pummel the person with his fists. Two of Matteo’s men join us, but they’re not interfering, letting Lorenzo handle it.
He rains hit after hit on the person, forcing them to hit the ground, and once he’s on top of them, he rips their mask off and shoves his forearm against his windpipe, threatening to cut off his air supply.
“Who fucking sent you to try and take my wife?”
“Leysa!” the guy barks. “She said to tell you that she’s hers.”
The words have barely left his lips when Lorenzo stands up, pulls out a gun I didn’t know he was carrying, and aims it at the man’s chest.
“Actually, she’s mine.”
He pulls the trigger, and the bullet goes straight through the man’s heart, instantly killing him.
As I watch the life drain from the man’s eyes, I sag in relief. Maybe I should feel bad that Lorenzo just ended someone’s life, but I don’t because he was trying to take me and wouldn’t have thought twice about killing me.
Lorenzo tucks me into his side and glances at Matteo’s men. “Can you handle the cleanup?”
“Of course,” one of the guys says.
“Thanks. I’m going to call Matteo now.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and walks us to the side.
“Hey,” he says. “Your guys are here and handling the cleanup.” He glances around and then curses under his breath. He listens for several moments before he says, “Which hospital?”
He swallows thickly, and my heart stutters in my chest. Something is wrong.
“I’ll be right there.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It was a setup. Leysa knew we were trying to lure her out. While we were getting ice cream, she made her presence known, so Matteo went after her, just like she had known he would. And then that asshole”—he nods toward the dead man on the ground—“went after you. Figured if he got you, he’d make his boss happy, and if he didn’t, he’d send a message.
But thankfully, Matteo called for backup, which is why they showed up.
” He juts his chin toward the men dealing with the dead guy.
“Okay, but why are we going to the hospital?”
“We’re not going to the hospital. I am, after I drop you off at home, where I know you’ll be safe.” His eyes, filled with worry, lock with mine. “And I’m going to the hospital because Matteo’s been in an accident.”