Chapter 8
LILY
Ridiculous. That's what this situation is. And I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want to end my friendship with Ara, but I also don't want to be stuck with a brute of a man whose default setting seems to be broody and annoyed.
I don’t know what I ever saw in him.
This thought repeats in my mind as Lorenzo drives us to the party, and he hasn’t even so much as spoken to me since practically forcing me into the car.
I’ve never met someone with the skills to irritate me so spectacularly.
He’s beyond offensive, and I can’t see myself getting used to this arrangement any time soon.
The sooner Luca gets his shit together, the better. For all our sakes.
I’ve done my best to ignore him all week, despite him never being far from my side, but my curiosity has limits.
I side-eye him, betraying myself as my gaze trails over his immaculate suit and freshly trimmed facial hair.
Strong wafts of cedar roll off him, and I despise every intricate detail I notice.
He looks good.
Too good.
He always has, and that’s certainly part of the problem.
Shouldn’t killers give some indication of the danger they pose? Shouldn’t they look scary or repulsive?
“You’re staring,” he says. Damn it. I immediately divert my gaze out the window. Of course, he notices everything.
I swear I can sense his gaze shift to me, which unfurls an uncomfortable unease in my stomach. Something that flutters before it’s washed over with the cold reminder of exactly how my father is going to react when he sees me at this party with Lorenzo.
I don’t know what to do. I’m trapped, because even if I run from Lorenzo, I know he’ll find me.
I’m a fool for romanticizing him before.
I always thought he was attractive, and I would sneak glances whenever he was around Luca and Ara.
But now I wish I had never gotten too close, because I’ve only found a closet full of demons.
Perhaps my taste in men is worse than I imagined. Maybe I really should let my friend Elanee matchmake for me.
A startling thought hits me, and I can’t help but look back over at Lorenzo. I don’t know much about Dmitri and Elanee’s relationship, but there was a lot of weird tension going around when they got together.
“Is Elanee a part of the Mafia?” I ask quickly, too scared I’ll lose my nerve if I don’t throw it out there. Oh my gosh, are all of my friends actually part of some underworld scene? Am I so sheltered that I even lack the natural instincts to warn me when I'm around dangerous people?
Lorenzo’s gaze meets mine. “I don’t share other people's secrets.”
A cold dread washes over me, and I’m once again quick to divert my gaze, too scared that he’ll see every little pebble of fear piling up inside me.
The small flutters in my stomach become heavier.
I focus on my breathing as I try to push through the sheer panic washing over me.
Holy fuck. What have I gotten myself into?
I don’t know right from wrong anymore. I don’t know who my friends really are.
I mean, I know they’re my friends, but as evidenced by my current situation, it's obviously dangerous just to be associated with them. But I can’t seem to blame Ara for any of it.
Nothing has happened all week, and I’m starting to believe it’s all an exaggeration.
My mind begins to spiral as it becomes harder to breathe.
I try to control my thoughts. Let’s just focus on the issue at hand. Fuck, my father’s going to lose his shit when Lorenzo, an unknown bachelor with no money or connections, comes in, declaring himself as my boyfriend. But I can't tell him I’m best friends with a Mafia boss's wife or… or… Fuck!
The car comes to an abrupt halt at the curb, and the back of my head hits the seat hard, stunning me for a moment. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I look up, expecting an accident. Or worse: will there be men pointing guns at us?
People are yelling and screaming at us, but there’s no accident or ambush; we’re simply parked halfway over the curb onto the sidewalk.
What the—?
“Breathe.” Lorenzo’s voice carries hypnotically through the car.
It’s only then that I notice the rough pads of his fingers that prickle along the back of my neck.
It pushes a fresh dose of adrenaline through my veins as his feather-light grip redirects my face to look in his direction.
Those dark-brown eyes pin me, bringing me back into myself.
“Breathe,” he says again, and I trail the word to his lips, following his lead. Slowly in and slowly out.
In and out.
In and out.
Oh shit. Was I having a panic attack? In and out. I haven’t had one of those since childhood. In and out. The jitters slowly recede, and I welcome the sweep of calm that slowly but surely begins to push through. In and out.
I don’t know how long we remain like that, but it’s enough to bring my racing thoughts to a startling ease. The spike of adrenaline quickly recedes into embarrassment.
Lorenzo must think I’m a joke. A coddled princess.
I’m not as strong as my friends. They’re daring and bold in their own unique ways, and I live in a glass house, trying to appease my family.
My only outlet, the only part of me I give myself space for, is the florist shop.
But how insignificant is that to a man who most likely sees blood daily?
Hell, he’s probably the executioner. I must seem like an embarrassment to someone like him.
I haven’t been able to keep my emotions in check since everything that transpired in Italy.
I guess I’m learning what I’m really made of, and it’s pathetic.
Especially because the person who’s soothing my inner storm is a man I very much think lacks emotion or empathy.
“You’re a dangerous person, aren’t you?” I ask quietly, staring into his eyes. Despite already knowing this, it’s the first thing I can think of blurting out to distract me from my spiraling thoughts that I’ve often had to fight through this past week.
I know his answer before he gives it.
“I am a dangerous man,” Lorenzo says each word slowly, as if letting me absorb their weight and magnitude. If anything, I’m grateful he didn’t make a comment like, "Finally talking to me now, Sunshine?"
“Fearing me is the smart thing to do. But know that I will never hurt you. However, don’t ever confuse me for a hero or knight in shining armor. I’m only here because I was ordered to be.”
A mocking laugh bubbles from my throat, and I sound unhinged.
Maybe I really am losing it, but it’s enough to exorcise more of this unsettling energy.
“No, a hero you certainly are not,” I say, gliding my hands down the silk of my light-yellow dress.
It does nothing to distract me from the heat emanating from his hand still cupped around my nape.
He says he won’t hurt me, but these hands could easily break my neck.
“If you could remove your hand, please.”
His eyebrows furrow slightly, and he looks at his hand, as if only just realizing he's still touching me. He clears his throat, grips the wheel with both hands, and pulls back out onto the road, unfazed by the onlookers.
I pull down the vanity mirror so I can assess my appearance.
Whatever that panic attack was, I don’t want it controlling my life.
I don’t want to be that scared girl anymore.
Then again, it’s been a long time since I’ve feared anything besides my family's judgment. Perhaps this is what they call a rude awakening. I adjust the curls that frame my face and ensure my hair is still neatly positioned in a bun. I touch the pearls on my ears and necklace, as if trying to harden my confidence. I have to, if I’m going to survive tonight.
“My father will do a thorough background check on you. You’re hardly someone he would consider a proper suitor.”
“'Proper suitor.' Jesus Christ, who even speaks like that?” he sneers.
That little tickle of irritation begins to stir in my stomach again.
“Excuse me, sergeant, but some of us have to abide by the rules of high society. You might dip your toe in it now and then because your boss tells you to, but I have obligations to my family.” The corners of his mouth tip up, and I realize he’s purposefully winding me up, and I too easily bite at his taunts.
I don’t even know why I’m justifying myself, because he doesn’t care one ounce about how his appearance will impact my family's reputation.
“Must be tiresome being a good girl all the time,” he says, not the least bit apologetic.
“Don’t pretend like you know me,” I bite back, glancing up at the tall buildings that glitter against the night sky.
I’ve always loved this city's splendor and constant busyness.
Sometimes, I wish I could just get swept out into the sea of people and truly live amongst them, instead of caring what everyone thinks or how it might impact the Taylor name.
“I know enough to call a spoiled princess a brat when I see one.”
I chuckle darkly, and I don’t know where it’s coming from. “Ironic coming from a man whose master says ‘jump,’ and you ask, 'how high?'. Maybe we’re not as different as you think.”
“The difference is, I enjoy my position, Sunshine, while you’re clearly begging to run away from yours.”
It hurts. The amount of truth in that statement. Not that I’d ever give him the satisfaction of letting him know it. I don't want him to see any more of my weaknesses.
“Most people would thank the person who’s protecting them,” Lorenzo continues.
We’re only a few blocks away from the party, and the only thing I’m grateful about is the fresh air blowing in my partially open window, because laughing and smiling through the night is going to be a challenge, even for me.
And yet, he has a point. Maybe I’m picking a fight with the wrong person.
“I will assume your silence is a thank you.”
“Then you assume incorrectly,” I snap. What is it about this man that pisses me off? Is it because I’m still bitter from his rejection? Most likely. Despite having a million other concerns, I seem to come back to that minor detail.
“Yet, you’re not begging me not to go anymore,” he says, and I can’t stand his smug tone.
“Would you listen?” I ask dryly as I survey the upcoming building when the car slows down.
A black carpet leads to the grand front doors, where two cameramen wait.
This event is nothing more than a breeding ground for rumors and a showcase of wealth.
These events are all the same, no matter who hosts them or what the occasion is for.
“No,” Lorenzo says flatly as he brings the car to a stop in front of the building.
I scan over my hair once more as he gets out of the car, walks around it, and hands the keys to the waiting valet.
I’m actually shocked when Lorenzo opens the door for me and offers his hand. Does he actually know etiquette?
I glare at his outstretched palm, and the corner of his mouth tilts up ever so slightly. My eyebrows furrow because surely, I'm hallucinating for me to actually think I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips.
“Come on, Sunshine, we’re only here because of you,” he says blandly.
I don’t understand this man. He goes from completely cold to the tiniest touch of warmth, but I’m certain that’s only because of the cameras on us right now.
The act begins now, and maybe Lorenzo knows how to play the part, after all.
I slide my hand into his, allowing him to lead me out of the car. My heels hit the pavement, and I adjust my dress accordingly. “You didn’t even tell me I look nice tonight.”
“I don’t need to. You already know that you do,” he says matter-of-factly.
A warmth floods my core, and I reprimand myself for getting fluttery over something so small.
“If you actually want anyone to believe this charade, you’d better compliment me more like a real boyfriend would, and please, be friendly with others,” I grit through a smile as I make a point to look at him lovingly.
“Despite what you might think of me, I haven’t lived in a cave all of these years,” he says, sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow.
My breath hitches at the gentleness of his gesture. It’s embarrassing how acutely aware I am of his every touch. Even when I shouldn’t be. Even as I beg for it not to be the case.
The flutters of nervousness creep back in as concerns about how tonight might play out begin to pile up. I know Ara said it was necessary, but right now I’m thinking I’d rather risk the idea of a hitman at my back than my father’s disappointment. That in itself is all sorts of messed-up.
“It’ll be fine. We’re just going to go in and be seen for a bit.
Unless you want to leave right now. And if that’s the case, we can get back in the car and go.
I really want to leave,” Lorenzo says, and it brings me back to the now.
I realize how torturous this is for him, and a feral smugness ripples through me.
If I have to be stuck with him in this fucked-up situation, then I’m sure as hell going to do my best to make him as uncomfortable as I am.
“No. I’m ready.” I straighten my shoulders, and I can see him die a little more inside.
He expects me to crumble so easily, and I refuse to give him that satisfaction.
Even if he’s still attempting to soften his features to be friendly as we’re approached by a photographer, I can see right through him.
He’s dressed as a gentleman, yet still looks like a wolf stepping through a herd of sheep.
No matter what mask Lorenzo is wearing, I’m certain that will never change about him.
The threat of danger simply oozes off of him.
He knows who he is; it’s deeply ingrained in his DNA.
I might not know yet exactly what kind of man he is, but I know he’s as beautiful as he is deadly.
I also know that right now, I have my part to play. And so, I resort to what I’ve been trained to do.
I push down my emotions and… I smile.