Chapter 6
LORENZO
She’s pissed. Also, clearly nursing a hangover, but I’m not going to be the one to point that out especially when she’s holding those giant-ass scissors.
Snip. The bottom of the long stem falls to the counter.
Lily isn’t looking at me, but I know her intent was certainly more toward me than the flower she’s trimming.
The iced tea I purchased for her goes untouched, even when I know it’s her beverage of choice.
When she woke, I insisted we go to her apartment so I could check the security measures already in place.
It seemed to have only dawned on her then that I would be temporarily living with her, and instead, she adamantly advised I either drive her here, to her flower shop, or she’d call a driver.
As if I were going to let her out of my fucking sight.
Fuck me. If I had known being a babysitter was going to be this difficult, I would’ve put up more of a fight against the order. Not that it would have done any good.
“Are you just going to stand there all day and stare?” Lily grumbles, still refusing to make eye contact with me.
I stoically remain where I am, wondering how many people get to see this side of the polished high-society daughter.
A woman who wears pinks, purples, and yellows like a fucking beam of sunshine but who has the tongue of a viper when hungover and the vocabulary of a woman who is ever demanding and seductive after a few drinks.
The vivid memory of her hips grinding against my cock and those needy little kisses last night comes to mind, and I clear my throat, avoiding the urge to readjust myself.
“Yes. That’s my job,” I say matter-of-factly.
Dangerous is what this woman is. She plays little Miss Goody Two-shoes through the day, and at night, after a few drinks, turns into a seductress.
Ordinarily, I might be tempted to break something so precious, but even I know it’s a line I can’t cross.
In truth, I resent her for the fact that I have to play babysitter instead of protecting my boss, even if it isn’t her fault.
She sighs and places the scissors down.
“I didn’t ask for you to be my bodyguard or play fake boyfriend.” That scathing gaze finally lands on me. It’s as if she can read my fucking mind, or maybe it's evident I don’t want to be here.
Since the moment she woke up this morning, moaning about a headache, and her gaze landed on me, she’s been scowling.
I heard her whimper something about not being a nightmare after all as she drew the blankets back over her head.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night in that chair because of how loud her snoring was, and she had the audacity to look at me as if I were the problem for her shitty mood.
It took me the first hour to fight any temptation of forcing her to finish what she started last night with that desperate kiss.
She’s always been a temptation for me. I might be a man of discipline, but fuck me, resisting her might be my breaking point.
“Then we share the same sentiment,” I remind her. My skills are better utilized elsewhere, like helping my boss expand his empire. Hell, it would’ve even made more sense to send me to Italy to deal with the current situation there.
She bundles the flowers, maneuvering them in a way I don’t entirely understand. I walked past the store once and was mesmerized by how at peace she seemed as I looked at her through the window.
“You don’t have to be at my work. No one's going to do a drive-by while I’m selling flowers.” She looks at me, then her eyes go wide. “Right? Like, that stuff only happens in movies.”
My silence is answer enough as she mouths, "holy shit," and then sits back in her chair with an oomph. It’s the same way I found her last night, as if her world had just been cracked into a million pieces, and everything she once knew was unraveling. And maybe it is.
Not only has she realized her best friend married into the Italian Mafia, but now she’s a target by association. It’s Ara's guilt over the matter that has me here in the first place.
I don’t dare probe the question looming in the air between us.
Sure, she came on to me last night, but I concluded a long time ago that Lily is a good woman, and her world just got blown wide open.
I rationalized that it's the only reason why she practically threw herself at me last night, and although I understand she needs comfort, I’m not the right person to give it.
And this is just business, I remind myself. An abnormal task I’ve been assigned and will take professionally, like all of the missions given to me.
However, it’s hard not to notice what looks like her entire world being sucked into a vortex and her normally bright, sparkling blue eyes devoid of the life they usually brim with.
If I had the choice, I would’ve protected her from this.
Most people are better off not knowing about the scary monsters in the night.
It tarnishes and changes them, just as it has her.
It’s only then I realize my knuckles are whitening.
I don’t even know how long I’ve been fisting my hands, as if forcing myself to maintain the distance between us.
I know better than to get emotionally entangled with the people I'm protecting, but watching her like this is…
uncomfortable. It should be easy for me to avoid it; the only person's emotional welfare I’m attuned to is my boss's, and yet I find myself stepping toward her.
She doesn’t look up. She’s simply staring at her hands, appearing entirely vulnerable.
Something everyone I associate myself with knows better than to do.
There should be no opening, no weak spot, no moment of letting one's guard down. But hers is always down, exposing every sensitive part of her. Her neck still has a bruise from where she ran into a branch, and a knot of feral anger unravels in my stomach. She’s too easy to break.
“Stop pitying me,” she says, bringing her hand to her neck and massaging the spot, noticing precisely what I was staring at. It’s only because I’m looking for it that I can see it through the makeup she’s covered it with.
“I’m simply curious.” I straighten my shoulders and come to a stop at her side as I redirect my attention toward the flowers.
She scoffs. “I doubt you’ve been curious about anything for a long time. Anything besides straight and narrow might give you an aneurysm. Wouldn’t want you to defect now.”
I try to keep my expression neutral, although the possibility of a smile breaking through threatens. She’s the only woman I know who can so elegantly insult me. Even then, she still seems polite about it, which is a double-handed offense.
“I was curious about why you do this.” I nod toward the bouquet she’s working on.
Her blue eyes glare up at me, and I immediately know I’ve hit a sore spot.
Does she think I look down on her occupation?
Who am I to judge someone else’s pursuits when all I have on my resume is underhanded dealings and killing people?
“Because flowers make people happy,” she says, not at all sounding like a ray of sunshine, but as if she’s had to repeat this time and time again.
“I know people don’t understand it, and it doesn’t turn over nearly as much profit as my family's companies, but it makes me happy.
I like putting smiles on people's faces or being a part of healing in times of mourning. Flowers are appropriate for almost any occasion, and I like being creative, even if it seems stupid.”
My eyebrows furrow slightly as I pick up one of the flowers and roll it in my fingers.
Can this single rose do so much? I thought they were only used for funerals or courting a woman.
Then again, what would I know about courting since I’ve never had any semblance of a relationship other than one-offs to meet my needs.
I never looked at a single flower any differently until now.
Lily’s phone screen lights up on the counter with Dad flashing on the screen, and she grumbles her complaint as she picks it up.
I did a notable amount of research on her family last night while she slept.
Her father is as money-hungry and ambitious as the next person in most wealthy social circles, and he recently pushed for his son to take over multiple companies.
“Hey, Dad, is everything okay?” she asks, her hungover self suddenly chipper, but I can see through it.
There’s obvious tension she holds toward him.
I put the rose back down. “Yeah, we decided to come back from Italy early. That’s all.
” Another long pause. “This Friday night? Oh, that’s short notice. ” Silence. “I’ll be there.”
Just like that, he hangs up on her, and she stares down at her phone. She then looks back up at me, her face paling. “I have to go to a party. You cannot come.”
“That’s not an option,” I say matter-of-factly.
“My dad can't find out about this situation. If he does, he’ll have me close up the store and sell me off to the highest bidder. He’s already breathing down my neck about marriage now, but if he knows I’m somehow involved in Mafia misconduct, I’m epically screwed.”
“Lucky you’re not involved in any Mafia misconduct, simply introducing your boyfriend.”
“You’re not my—”
I encroach on her space, baring my teeth. “This is not up for discussion. If Luca has ordered me to be with you at all times, then I’ll be with you at all times. I’m doing my best to play nice here, but I think you forgot I’m not some pup to be toyed with. I don’t take orders from you.”
Tears spring to her eyes, and my jaw grinds painfully. Fuck, I'm not cut out for this. Her floral scent infiltrates my nose, and it’s so different from the usual smells of my day-to-day tasks that I want to deem it offensive, when it’s anything but.
“You’re such an asshole,” she says quietly. “This is my life.” It’s better she realizes the truth of who I am sooner rather than later. I’m not her friend nor her confidant. If she’s deluding herself that I’m kind, then I should clear her of that notion.
“Right now, your life is mine to protect, and I take that very seriously.”
Noticing a silhouette approaching the front door, I end the discussion.
The bell that dangles above the door chimes, and we look up in unison as a woman carries in two boxes.
I step back, creating space between us, and slip into the back room, where I can still see her through the cut-out window but not interfere with the running of her business.
“Oh, you’re early.” Lily brightens and quickly wipes away the tears that sprang to her eyes, as if all is well and life is as it always has been.
The sooner we’re both freed from this arrangement, the better, because I don’t like the idea of playing boyfriend at some ludicrous party either.
One of the hounds would’ve been far better suited for this role.
I push away the thoughts because I don’t often stray or question my boss's orders or plans.
But this one is thrusting me too far out of my comfort zone.
I don't have the expertise to pull this off. Two days in a row, I’ve made this woman cry without meaning to.
If I didn’t know I was an asshole before, I certainly fucking do now.