Chapter 15
LILY
My palms are sweaty. It’s never a good thing when I’ve been called to the family estate.
It’s why I prefer staying in my own apartment and focusing on my store.
When my father summons a family gathering, memories flood back that are best left forgotten.
I hate returning to this house. I look up at the three-story white mansion.
It’s magnificent, often hosting grand parties that only the most exclusive of guests are invited to.
Despite arguing for Lorenzo not to come, I’m suddenly aware of his absence. Undoubtedly, having Lorenzo join a family dinner will only worsen the pressure my father is putting on me to find what he deems a suitable partner.
I feel like I’m just being passed around between powerful men. But I'm actually scared of my father, which is not at all how I feel about Lorenzo. It pains me to admit it, but as much as I try to center myself and prepare for what’s to come, I can’t help but be frightened.
I walk around the fountain positioned at the front of the French-style home. A butler holds the two grand wooden doors open for me, and farther past that, I can see one of the housemaids reorganizing the fresh flowers in the corridor.
My legs grow heavier with each step I take up the stairs as impending doom looms over me, so I try to focus on the long, light-pink satin dress with white heels I decided to wear.
I often wear cheerful colors because they serve as a reminder to look at the brighter things.
My hair is done up, and I'm wearing the pearl earrings and necklace my mother gifted me on my last birthday.
“Welcome back, Miss Taylor,” Bentley, the family's longtime butler, says.
“Thank you, Bentley,” I reply sweetly. I only say his first name when no one else is around because my father reprimands me for being friendly with the house staff, which never felt right to me to be so formal. He barely contains a small smile as he removes my white coat.
“They’re in the drawing room if you’d like to join them before dinner. Your brother has already arrived.”
“Thank you. I might quickly excuse myself to the bathroom, first,” I say with a polite smile.
I see the shift in his gaze, the remorseful expression, as if he senses my unsaid words.
Then again, Bentley has seen more than he should in the years serving our household, and his loyalty and silence have not necessarily been rewarded.
My brother's and father's voices raised in discussion come from the drawing room, but I hook a left to the closest powder room. The moment the door is shut, I run my sweaty palms over my dress.
It’s fine. Everything is going to be fine.
I assess my makeup, already exhausted by my parents' expectations. There’s always something I have out of place or haven’t touched up enough. I sigh as I play with the pearl necklace at my throat.
I fidget with the hairpin I’ve tightly wound my hair through. I pause momentarily as I smooth my fingers over it once again. I was in such a hurry to look presentable I didn’t notice earlier that there seems to be something different about it.
Removing it from my hair, I study it carefully. It’s not the same white pearl color, but an off-yellow. My eyebrows furrow. It also looks slightly bigger. What the—?
I fiddle with it, an ominous feeling running over me. This isn’t my hairpin, and I didn’t think twice about using it because I always have it on my bathroom basin, often wearing my hair up.
Snap! The stick breaks away from the small ball. I look at the edge of the ball that certainly isn’t a pearl. Is that... some kind of chip?
Realization dawns on me… I might not know how Mafia business works, but I’ve seen enough crime documentaries to know that this is some kind of tracking or listening device.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I whisper to myself, an unyielding rage running through me. That asshole has no concept of personal space. Especially after I made him promise not to go into my room, and now he’s bugging me.
I shake my hair out, then open the toilet seat and flush the device. It’s only by chance I found it, but how do I know he hasn’t done that to other pieces of my jewelry?
What an overbearing fucking asshole.
I release a harsh breath. It doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with him after I’ve dealt with my family.
One mountain at a time.
Bentley waits for my arrival outside the drawing room. He opens the door but doesn’t dare enter himself.
Three sets of eyes look up as I step into the room, and my father immediately clicks his tongue. “Lily, your hair looks like a mess today. Did you put any effort in at all?”
“Now, now, Father, be nice,” my brother, Vince, says as he approaches me with a smirk, scooping me into a big hug.
I cling to his warmth, not often getting to see him since he took over my father’s businesses in the London office.
But even as a child, he was in many ways my safe space.
I’ve missed him since he left over a year ago.
“You look beautiful as always,” my brother says, pressing a kiss on top of my head.
“You spoil her,” my mother says with a small smile.
“Don’t be jealous, Mother,” Vince replies teasingly.
He’s always been charming, and most certainly the child my father favors.
I’ve never despised him for it, though. If anything, I felt sorry for the amount of pressure put on him when we were younger.
But over the last year, he seems to be thriving.
The fireplace crackles at the end of the room, my father stoking the flames with a glass of whiskey in his hand. My gaze slides to the half-empty bottle beside him. At least it’s not an empty bottle. Yet.
“It’s not often we’re all here together,” my mother says as she glances over her shoulder toward my father. When he doesn’t reply, she turns back to us. “It’s nice.”
My heart sinks ever so slightly because none of us in this room, except perhaps my father, ever feels happy or comfortable being in this house.
There are too many haunting memories lingering in every corner.
No matter how good the others are at pretending that some things never happened, I’m unable to forget, even when I try to.
“Yes, well, I thought a meeting was in order so we can make sure everyone is on the same page,” my father finally says, and his gaze lands on me.
A shudder runs over me, and I can’t help but look at the fireplace poker in his hand that glows red-hot on one end.
He follows my gaze and makes a point to put it down.
“Your brother is doing well with the business—profits are up,” he begins as he throws back the rest of his drink, then walks over to my mother. He presses a kiss on top of her head and then pours himself another glass.
My brother is sitting on the couch adjacent to my mother, looking between my father and me. It’s very obvious a "but" is coming, and who it’s about.
“Lily, I’ve organized a meeting between you and Riley Timber,” my father begins. “He comes from old money and recently divorced his second wife. He has two children, but they remain with the mother, so serve as no real hindrance.”
“Riley Timber is in his late forties,” Vince interjects, and receives a scathing glare from my father because of it.
I haven’t been in the room for more than five minutes, and he’s already orchestrating my life.
It’s precisely what I thought would happen, but it doesn’t take away the bubbling anger or sting of having my rights once again taken away.
“This isn’t a request. Lily, you will be going on this date when he’s in town two weeks from now. You need to grow up.”
“I should get to choose who I do and don’t date,” I grit out angrily, still wary of how close he stands to the fire poker.
He scoffs. “So you can bring another barbarian to a party to humiliate me? I think not.”
My nails curl into my palms as he insults Lorenzo. Even if the situation itself is a facade, it gives him no right to look down on him with such contempt.
“Lily,” my mother says, giving me a small shake of her head, a signal to not object to my father's wishes. She looks so small compared to him, and the reminder of how we’re all under his thumb makes me so angry.
But the anger quickly rolls into sadness.
I know too well that my mother is the one who fears him the most. At least my brother and I can escape.
Why has she chosen to remain by his side all these years?
The door swings open. “Sir, you can’t!” Bentley yells as the larger-than-life form of Lorenzo steps into the room.
“Sorry, I’m late, sweetheart. Parking the car took me longer than I expected,” Lorenzo says as he places his hand on my hip, pulls me in, and presses a kiss on my head. I’m too stunned to speak.
“What’s the meaning of this?” my father grits out, and my brother stands from his chair, obviously intervening as he holds out his hand to Lorenzo.
“Vince Taylor. You must be the date from the charity event I’ve heard so much about.”
Lorenzo holds out his hand, as if the most pleasant of gentlemen, his other hand still gripping my hip tightly.
“Lorenzo Moretti. And it’s boyfriend, actually.”
I freeze under the scrutiny of my father’s gaze. I want to hide as much as I want to wring the neck of this insufferable man who can’t take a hint.
“Boyfriend? Isn’t that something?” Vince says, looking between us both, and I turn to him, trying to brighten with a smile as best as I can.
“Yep” is all I can manage to get out, because a million other things run through my mind. The room fills with palpable tension as my mother and I stare at my father, unsure of his reaction. Forever treading on broken glass around him.
“Well, I can’t wait to hear how you two met.
” Vince claps his hands and rubs them together.
“Shall we go in to dinner?” He hooks his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in.
It’s the same as when we were kids, except now we know opposing my father is anything but a game.
“This is going to get interesting,” he whispers into my ear with a mischievous grin, and my skin tightens as I recall the many times that smirk has gotten us into trouble.
Yet, there’s an odd sense of security as I look over my shoulder at Lorenzo, who only watches me, blocking my parents' view, and begins to follow us.
The feeling of safety is short-lived, though, as I recall the listening device he planted on me.
I aim a scowl at the asshole who disregards my boundaries, has stalker tendencies, and went and did the one thing I said was strictly forbidden: inserting himself into my family.
“Bentley, bring out our finest bottle of whiskey!” my brother yells, slipping ahead of me. The moment he does, I drop back to Lorenzo.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper angrily.
“You shouldn’t have tried to be clever,” he replies, glaring down at me.
“Clever? I—” I stop my outburst, looking back at where my parents now argue. A harrowing thought because I don’t know how much my father has had to drink. “You shouldn’t have bugged me.”
A slow smirk stretches his lips, and I want to slap him stupid for it. “And you thought you’re not cut out for this world. More observant than you thought.”
“Is this just a game to you?” I ask. “You had no right—”
He gets in my face, forcing me to lean back, as he sneers at me. “I have every right when it comes to your safety. You wanted space. I tried to give it to you in the best capacity that I could. There are consequences when you think you can cut me off.”
“You’re insane,” I say on a shaky breath, bewildered at how persistent this man is in ruining my life.
My parents walk out of the drawing room at the same time Lorenzo kisses the tip of my nose.
I’m stunned by the show he’s putting on.
I stare at my mother, whose gaze softens ever so slightly, and I’m led by the man who’s single-handedly trying to destroy my life at a family dinner he was never invited to.