Chapter 13
LILY
I’m furious. There’s a difference between pretending to be a doting boyfriend and being an overbearing, embarrassing brute.
Lorenzo stands beside the entrance of the Cappa Café.
It’s certainly not the first time he’s stood there, but usually it’s for Ara's sake. Now there’s another unexpectedly large man, Tony, who sits closest to the door, enjoying a coffee and reading something on his phone.
The two men attempt to be discreet, but they still stand out.
Sienna takes her seat, arriving late as usual, and looks over at them. “So, like, security is the new trend?” she asks, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
“Well, if you look at recent tabloids, one might suggest Lorenzo is an overbearing date,” Romi says, smirking at me. I kick her under the table, which only intensifies her laughter.
She’s wearing a shirt with a cat on it that reads I’m purrfect. She’s been wearing these types of shirts since junior high. The moment someone teased her for it, she made it her daily mission to wear a shirt with some kind of humorous message. “Well, am I wrong?” she asks, rubbing her shin.
I shift uncomfortably, trying to hide a wince as a dull pain pulses in my bruised ass cheeks. It remains as a reminder of what happened between Lorenzo and me.
Ara seems unfazed by their jabs, and I try to use her as an example not to give too much away.
But it’s easier for her because even if they don’t know who Luca Armani truly is, his being overprotective of his wife, who is carrying his child, doesn't come as a surprise.
But that leaves me out in the cold, trying to find a reasonable excuse for Lorenzo being here.
“He’s been helping me in the store. I told him to meet me there, but he decided to come here instead,” I say, settling on a partial truth. Because I had begged Lorenzo to give me space and let me enjoy my time with the girls, but he adamantly refused.
We’ve been living in each other’s pockets. I have no privacy. Though the last few nights he’s given me a bit of distance after the intensity of the night of my "punishment."
Both Romi and Sienna stare at me, most likely not believing the lie, but Romi smirks and casually shrugs. A shudder runs over me because nothing good ever comes from that smirk.
“Hey, Big Daddy,” she shouts at Lorenzo.
“Romi!” I chastise, immediately embarrassed.
Sienna chuckles and looks over to see his reaction.
“Why don’t you come and join us if you’re going to sit there looking all glum? You don’t exactly match the wallpaper.”
Warmth leaves my body as I look into the icy gaze of Lorenzo.
I told him he couldn't be inconspicuous.
Despite the awkwardness, Lorenzo does come over.
He drags a chair with him and sits at the end of the table closest to me.
Part of me is grateful we meet so early in the morning, when the cafe isn’t yet flooded with customers, because I’m certain he’d create a blockage for people being able to get past him to pay.
I glance at him only once. His gaze is devouring me, and I quickly look away, heat flushing my cheeks.
It’s so difficult to ignore him because he’s so damn imposing.
And I’m still furious with… well, the entire situation, and the fact that my body is still acutely aware of his every move and lingering look.
“Soo…” Romi says, staring between us. I know I should grab his hand or place mine on his knee or something that looks remotely couple-like, but I’m not good at pretending. “Want to explain what happened on that trip to Italy?”
“What do you mean?” I ask. Surely, Ara didn’t tell them about the drive-by or her involvement with the Mafia.
Romi raises a brow and then darts her gaze between Lorenzo and me, and I suddenly realize what she’s talking about. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Sienna, the gossip hound of the group, says.
She’s usually the first in the know, and I’m certain her finding out from some blog or social media photo about me taking Lorenzo to the charity event has wounded her ego.
“You go to Italy with Ara for a short time and then come back with a boyfriend?”
“It was one date,” I reply.
Sienna rolls her eyes. “Because you’ve taken so many dates of your own choosing to a public event. Weren’t you dreading last time we met here that you’d have to have Elanee potentially matchmake for you because your father has been pressuring you on the matter?”
Elanee, the most recent addition to our morning coffee meet-ups, remains quiet.
As a professional matchmaker, she’s the obvious choice, but I refuse to give in to my father’s pressure or threats.
If anything, I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything from him yet regarding the charity event, and it looms over me dauntingly.
“We’re just…” I look up at Lorenzo for support and realize the mistake immediately. A man of few words is not going to embellish a lie if he doesn’t need to. “Seeing how it goes. You know… casual.”
“Casual?” Romi repeats as she plays with the rim of her chai latte, staring at us skeptically. “When have you ever done casual?”
“Lighten up, Romi.” Sienna nudges her shoulder. “Our little girl is growing up. I still think you should tell Daddy to shove his expectations up his ass.”
Romi scoffs, then asks Sienna, “Are you willing to do the same with your father?”
Sienna rolls her eyes, and the table settles into silence. Because the reality is, we were all raised with particular expectations. Sienna is no exception. She, however, is now engaged to someone her father at least approves of, but he hasn’t appreciated the long two-year engagement.
“Any progress on a wedding date?”
Sienna sighs at my careful nudge, trying to hide it with a smile.
“Michael is just really busy with his acting career. And it’s fine.
It doesn’t change the fact that we love each other and plan on having a family.
It might be a few years later than I'd hoped, but relationships are give and take, aren’t they? ” she says, almost desperately.
My heart sinks for my friend, because I know how much she adores Michael, but it feels like the last six months she’s pulled back on her modeling career simply so she can cater to him and the demands of his career.
“When was the last time you saw him in person?” Romi gently asks.
Sienna offers another tight smile. "Two months ago. But we FaceTime almost every week. He’s busy with projects, you know.
I plan on seeing him soon, though. We’re just going through a stage, you know?
” She looks up at us with hope in her eyes.
It was a quick engagement, and as time passes, I wonder if the relationship is already coming to an end before they truly had the chance to start.
But who am I to judge the ins and outs of someone else's relationship when my alleged one is fake?
My phone buzzes, and when I look down, a cold dread washes over me. It’s my father’s assistant. I answer it because I know better than to ignore her calls.
“Good morning, Tania,” I say, faking a bubbly tone.
“Good morning, Miss Taylor. I’m calling to inform you that your father expects you for dinner tonight at six.”
My stomach drops.
This dinner invite has to be about Lorenzo. And, as usual, my father can’t even be bothered to call personally. Even if I had plans, I’d be expected to drop them.
My fingers curl into my palms as I stare down at the holey jeans I decided to wear today instead of a dress.
Nausea swirls in my stomach as I brace myself for what always feels like impending doom, but I do my best to muster my strength.
It’s humiliating to be this crippled by my own treacherous mind.
Warmth fills my hand as my fingers are slowly pried open to make room for Lorenzo’s fingers.
The others remain talking amongst themselves, and it takes me two blinks to realize Lorenzo has entwined his hand with mine.
I don’t look up to see his expression. Instead, I bite my bottom lip, appreciating his gesture.
He might be a domineering robot, but he’s an observant one. Confusion fogs my brain as I’m torn between wondering if he's doing this to genuinely support me or if it’s all for show in front of my friends.
“I’ll be there. Thank you for taking the time to call, Tania.”
“Of course, I’ll try to make time sometime soon to drop by the flower shop,” she says, and instead of grimacing, I relax further into Lorenzo’s touch.
I know Tania only ever stops by to report back to my father, but instead of feeling that usual sense of apprehension, I take courage in the subtle support Lorenzo offers.
“I look forward to it,” I say, sounding chipper even when I feel anything but. I hang up and turn to Lorenzo. He’s not looking at me. He’s staring toward the door, as if expecting at any moment something might happen. Always on guard, ready to fight.
I can’t help the small smile as I uncurl my fingers from his, thankful for the kindness he was willing to offer, even when he’s made it abundantly clear he can’t stand me.
I rejoin the conversation, but not before noting that Ara's gaze is bouncing between Lorenzo and me. I wonder if she’s questioning the same thing I am.
If anything, I should know better than to think his gesture was more than just being part of the act.
I offer her a tight smile, though she says nothing, her hand moving to rest on her belly.
Nothing goes unnoticed by Ara, but even if she asked for an explanation, I couldn’t give her one.
Lorenzo’s kindness is an abnormality, but one I’m grateful for right now.
Whatever my father wishes to discuss isn’t good, but I harden my resolve.
I’m not the same woman I was before the trip to Italy.
I can’t be after the experience I went through there.
If I were unchanged by that, then there’d be no hope for me.
I have to show him that I can make my own decisions and I am my own person.
He has to know.
But the fear of being discarded by my family is very real, like a noose around my neck, because no one has ever defied my father, or at least no one has and come out unscathed.