Chapter 12
LILY
I’ve never imagined what it might be like to murder someone, but if I ever did, it would feature Lorenzo Moretti.
I throw my clutch onto the side table when we step inside my apartment. I then slip off my heels and set them alongside my other favorite pairs.
Lorenzo follows me, as quiet as he has been since we left the comedy show. I’m so furious I can’t even speak.
He’s right behind me, and every step feels more insufferable than the next. Sure, he gave me my phone back when we were in the car, but that wasn’t the point. He’s overbearing, arrogant, and rude.
One minute I was looking at a picture Romi sent me of an outfit option for an upcoming date she has, the next he’d stolen my phone and refused to give it back.
Pulling the pins from my hair, I turn to face him because I’m not done tearing into him, not even close.
I’ve never known this kind of frustration, but I have to purge it.
The only way to do that seems to be giving this asshole a piece of my mind, and I hope it pushes him away.
I pray he thinks I’m so bratty, he won’t be able to stand another moment with me because the tension between us is becoming too palpable.
“You were out of line tonight,” I accuse, pointing a hairpin at him. My hair spills over my shoulders with stiff curls after being so tightly restrained.
He takes a few steps back and sits on the armrest of one of the living room chairs. “You were a brat tonight.”
“Excuse me?” I run my hands through my hair.
Does this man truly have the audacity to flip my world upside down—with no regard to the impact he’s having—and still have the confidence to reprimand me?
“I don’t know what you think this agreement is, but it goes along the lines of silently protecting me.
You’re not to judge what I do with in spare time, and you certainly don’t get any say in who I take home. ”
He slowly removes his suit jacket, then places it carefully over the back of the chair. “I’m sick of discussing that little fucker. He’s lucky he didn’t wind up dead in the alley.”
My eyes bulge. This guy is out of his fucking mind. I click my tongue. He's so infuriating. He thinks he’s the smartest one in the room; better than everyone around him. I’ve met confident men, but none of them hold a candle to this enigma of a man.
“Is that the wisdom coming from a fifty-year-old man?” I dig.
His gaze narrows. “I’m only ten years older than you, Sunshine. And as for wisdom, it's simply that I have two eyes and the knowledge that he’s not good enough to touch you.”
I huff out a breath as I begin to pace, ready to rip out my hair.
“I can see what you’re doing, Sunshine. Your tactics don’t work on me. Little games like these won’t push me away from being by your side. The sooner you understand that, the smoother the next few weeks will be… for your sake.”
I shake my head as I move toward him. I should know better than to provoke a man like this, but I can’t help myself.
“Today was a total disaster, in case you didn’t realize.
My father is going to look into you. And he's most likely going to start forcing me into dates with men I don’t even know.
So, don’t you dare accuse me of anything.
I’m just living my life, and you were ordered to follow me. ”
Silence settles heavily between us. My words were harsh and unfair, but I refuse to be the "nice girl" with Lorenzo. I don’t owe him anything. And if he’s determined to make my life a living hell, then for the first time, I’m stepping up to the challenge.
The way he watches me, as if he’s assessing an enemy, is unnerving.
The lights from the city shine brightly through the windows, flashing across his features.
I hold his gaze, unsure as to whether it’s out of defiance or something else.
But I take another step toward him and then another, frustrated by the fact that he's remaining so quiet. I’m desperate for him to speak, wanting to shove at him or something so we can continue this fiery dance we seem to be caught up in.
It doesn’t make sense, but I’m just so angry.
“Come here,” he says, his voice gravelly. He points to the space between his knees and then begins to roll up his sleeves, as if preparing for something. A shot of adrenaline pumps through me. He said he wouldn’t hurt me. So why does he look like he’s about to get his hands bloody?
“Why?” I try to say it with an even tone, but the tremble in it isn’t missed by either of us.
Lowering my gaze from his, I notice the tattoos on his forearm.
A snake head, a rose, and a Renaissance angel with a bow and arrow that looks similar to Cupid.
My eyebrows furrow. I certainly wasn’t expecting something so delicate and beautiful inked on his skin.
Further evidence that I have no idea who this man truly is.
“We need to work on that mouth of yours; it seems to be in the habit of talking back,” he says, watching me expectantly.
Warmth floods my core, and the fury coursing through me turns into a wired tension buzzing along my skin.
My mouth opens to speak, then immediately closes because I don’t know how to respond.
“We can take all night, Sunshine, but we’re not leaving this room until you’ve received your punishment.”
“My punishment?” I squeak, and I hate how pitchy my voice is.
He doesn’t reply. No, a man like Lorenzo doesn’t feel the need to repeat himself or give explanations.
I can ignore his command—walk away and go upstairs—but I feel naturally drawn to him.
I know I shouldn’t be tempted. It’s ridiculous and makes no logical sense.
I’d be willingly stepping straight into the lion's den, and yet…
my feet quietly pad across the wooden floor toward him, accepting his challenge.
“That type of stunt you pulled at the comedy show isn’t to happen again. Do you understand?” Lorenzo says as I come to a stop in front of him.
I swallow hard, still unsure about what’s happening, but my core is throbbing for something, anything to bring me to life.
Maybe it’s the chance to experience his world, to get a little dirty before we part ways that tempts me—when logically I know it shouldn’t.
Maybe I’m quietly praying that this pent-up anger will only dissipate with a release that my treacherous body tells me only he can provide.
But it still doesn’t mean I’ll comply with his demands.
“I can do what I want in my life. You don’t own me,” I reply.
The corners of his mouth twitch as he grabs my hand and slowly tugs me until I’m standing beside his knee. Even when he’s sitting, his size is imposing, and we’re almost at eye level with each other.
“You can, but there are consequences when you’re being a brat,” he says, his thumb stroking over the delicate bone of my wrist, as if reminding me how small I am compared to him. I should be scared, but it thrills me in ways it shouldn’t. “Bend over,” he orders.
My brain short-circuits.
“S-sorry?” I stutter.
“It’s too late for apologies. Bend over my knee so I can slap the brat out of you.”
Liquid warmth floods to my core, and my pussy begins to quietly throb at the thought. Surely, I can’t be into this. I’ve never done anything like this before, and it feels foolish to give in. Yet there’s a spark of excitement flashing inside me.
“I wasn’t apologizing.”
“That’ll be five strikes. Do you want to continue adding to your punishment? Or are you demanding the belt instead?”
“What? No, I don’t want a belt,” I’m quick to say. That seems too extreme, doesn’t it?
What is happening?
“We need to establish some rules,” he says as he threads his fingers through my hair and arches my neck back slightly.
My pulse kicks up, and my breath hitches at the thought of what he might do next.
“In public, I’ll play the part of doting boyfriend.
But when you make my life a living hell, you will be punished in private. Do you understand?”
I'm consumed by the gaze of a predator who's ready to leave his mark. I can’t think rationally as my body begins to flood with a desire I’ve never known.
This is a choice, even if he doesn’t make it sound like one. I can easily walk away from this. But as I stare into his molten brown eyes that dance with light from the outside world, I don’t see malice or cruelty in them.
I see something I’ve never experienced before.
Desire.
Danger.
Dare I say… trust?
That last thought catches me off guard because how many others have I trusted who have disappointed me? But whatever this is, it defies all logic.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I say breathily.
The corner of his mouth twitches, and I find myself staring, praying to see what he might look like with a full-blown smile. “Part of me thinks you like it, Sunshine. Now, have you come to play?” He looks pointedly at his knee.
My heart is hammering in my chest. This man is dangerous. Still…
I find myself willingly lowering, bending over his knee, my ass up in the air as I brace my elbows on his other knee.
“She does listen after all,” he purrs appreciatively.
I go to speak, but his callused hand, slowly grazing along the back of my leg and up my bare thigh, has me snapping my mouth shut.
Goose bumps erupt everywhere he touches.
My breath hitches with the slow and painful anticipation for…
what? Everything? Anything? It’s been almost a year since I've slept with a guy, but Lorenzo is different.
He is a man whose touch I shouldn't want. Yet I yearn for it like my next breath.
He shifts my dress over my hips, and a low, guttural growl escapes him. I peek at him from over my shoulder, mesmerized by his eyes, which seem to have darkened to almost black as he stares at my ass.
“This is a perfect ass to punish,” he growls.