Chapter 17
I Feel Like I’m Drowning – Two Feet
Elena
DID LORENZO JUST CALL ME BELLA? I’m used to Tony regarding me with all sorts of endearments, but coming from Lorenzo it feels a bit unsettling. When he spoke again, he called me by my name. Did he even notice? Am I reading too much into this?
My mind is a haze as I try unsuccessfully to figure out the tall, gorgeous brooding Italian just down the hall. It’s probably nothing, just my overactive imagination and starved libido seeing things that aren’t there.
“Wishful thinking.” I say out loud with regret.
It’s a dull rainy day today. It poured relentlessly all day. I put Angel down for the night a while ago, I doubt he’ll stir much tonight. The cold weather and the steady sound of rain against the window could lull a giant into a sound sleep.
Staring out the kitchen window, it’s almost pitch black out. I’ve always loved the rain. There’s something comforting about the sound of water. The smell of the wet earth, the darkness that comes with it, is something I find comfort in.
Cupping the mug of steaming hot chocolate in my hands, I close my eyes and take in the sounds of the raindrops beating against the window. There’s the slight rumble of rolling thunder somewhere in the distance.
I love days like this. Perfect for snuggling up under a comfy blanket and cosying up with a loved one. Though that’s not in the cards for me now.
A small longing sigh escapes my lips and I open my eyes again while taking a sip of the steaming dark brew. Its dark out so I can’t see much of anything except my own reflection.
Looking at my reflection in the window, I can see the tiny sliver of skin on my wrist.
I set my mug down and rub around the scar. I’ve tried everything to prevent a scar but it would seem the universe wants me to remember.
I snort, as if I could ever forget.
The nightmares are few and far between now, but they’re still there… sometimes.
I trace the scar on my left wrist with my fingers; my mind lost in the memory of the man who gifted it to me. Memories I’d never asked for. I hadn’t even noticed the tears forming until one lone tear slid down my cheek and landed with a soft splash on the counter.
I wipe my cheek and rapidly blink away the fresh tears threatening to breach. I’m staring at my wrist again when I’m brought out of my thoughts by the sound of a throat clearing.
Lorenzo stands at the kitchen entrance, hands in his pockets, concerned eyes staring at me.
Taking a deep breath, I shake my head and clear my throat in a feeble attempt of seeming okay.
“Hi!” I manage to speak in a small whisper. I’ve been here for months now and still the man disarms me. My cheeks are a bit flushed at being caught in a moment of weakness. How long had he been standing there?
“Hi!” He responds. His voice like liquid silk. Gone is the hoarse, scratchy voice I’ve grown accustomed to. His voice now is low, almost a caress.
“I made some hot chocolate; I can make you a cup if you’d like?” He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he cocks his head to the side and gazes at me. What’s he thinking?
“I would love some… if you wouldn’t mind?” God why is he talking like that? Heat travels straight to my core and I feel as though my knees may give out right under me.
“Not at all, give me a sec.”
“Hmmm, take all the time you need Bella.” I freeze. He did it again. I turn to look at him but he seems unphased. That’s the second time.
I manage a small smile in response before turning away to make his hot chocolate. My back is turned to him but I can feel the heat of his gaze burning a hole at the back of my head. It’s suddenly very warm in here. Or is that me? Or is it him? He is hot, isn’t he? Good lord I’m losing my mind.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.
I look over my shoulder at him as he pulls out his phone and stares at the screen.
“Excuse me, I have to take this.” I nod at him as he walks away but pauses at the doorway, looking at me.
“Would you mind terribly if I asked you to bring it to my office?” He looks almost shy as he asks. That’s laughable right? Men like Lorenzo are intimidating as fuck. Shy is not a word that is used to describe them.
“Sure! I’ll be right there.” And he’s gone. I let out a breath that fans my bangs. I pop my now cold drink in the microwave for a bit to reheat before taking both our mugs to the office. The door is open, thank God, making entry easier since both my hands are occupied.
When I walk in, he’s still on his phone but motions for me to leave the mug on the side table next to the sofa against the wall. I do so and then walk towards the door to make my exit. I turn and mouth goodnight to him but he puts his index finger up in a universal wait a minute.
So, I stay, waiting for him to finish his call wondering what on earth he could possibly want to talk about at 10:15pm.
Rocking on my heels impatiently while sipping on my drink, I wait.
“Thanks so much, I’ll have my assistant contact you tomorrow with the details.”
Who does business at this ungodly hour? Don’t these people sleep?
He ends the call and places the phone back into his pocket. Leaning against his desk he looks towards the mug I placed on the table as instructed and then back at me.
“Thank you, Elena.” Elena? So, I’m Elena again? This man is going to give me whiplash.
“Is there something you need?” That came out more abrupt than I intended.
“No, I just… Elena I … Shit!”
“Did I do something wrong?”
Panic grips my chest. I know how this man is about rules and schedules. I start to backtrack the events of the day trying to remember if there was something I missed.
“No, no… calm down Bella. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t? Then what is it?”
“I saw you in the kitchen earlier, you were crying?” I thought as much he’d seen me but I wasn’t sure as to how long he’d been there.
“Oh.”
“Are you alright? You seemed upset. I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do. I know it’s difficult to raise a child… God knows I’ve tried on my own and, well we both know how that turned out.”
“No! I love Angel. He’s the perfect little boy and taking care of him has brought me so much joy, you have no idea.”
He looks at me, those gorgeous green eyes almost piercing through my soul. I find myself lowering my gaze for fear that he might develop the ability to read minds and discover the rather un-lady-like thoughts swimming around in my head; with him being the star of them all.
“Then what is it? Is it something back home? In Michigan, I mean. Or perhaps... someone? I know it couldn’t have been easy to uproot your life and transition into a new one. If you need some time off, or maybe someone to talk to… Let me know.”
My heart is racing, I’m feeling flustered and my hands are trembling slightly.
He notices and strides towards me. It only takes two strides and he’s in front of me wrapping his big hands around mine still holding the mug.
The contents sloshing around precariously.
Wouldn’t want to ruin the hardwood in here now, would we?
The contact sends sparks jolting through my skin.
His touch is electric and I almost step toward him…
almost. He’s standing too close. Close enough that I can smell his strong masculine scent.
Its intoxicating, making my head reel. My body trembles from his closeness and I grip the mug tighter.
He notices and takes it from my hands, placing it lightly on the side table next to his own.
Turning back to me, his eyes stare into my own… seeking, almost trying to look into the very fibres of my being.
It’s too much, I can feel the heat radiating off of this man.
My ability to process any rational thought is at a rapid decline so I make the decision to step away from him, only to be held back.
Looking down, his hand is around my wrist and he follows my gaze to the scar there.
Lorenzo’s brows knit together in a frown as he holds my hand, his thumb grazing along the line of the scar.
I pull my hand back but his grasp only tightens.
“You were looking at this scar when you were crying.” His gaze doesn’t leave my hand as he speaks.
“How did you get this? What happened to you Elena?”
“I, uh… It was an accident. It’s nothing really. Look it’s late… I should probably head upstairs.” He’s still holding on to my hand when he responds.
“Si, Bella… Perhaps you should.”
Bella, there’s that word again. Even as he says it, he makes no move to let me go.
He’s crowding my space. So, I take a step back and he takes one forward, leaving us in the exact situation we were in seconds ago.
For every step back I take, he counters with a step forward, each time getting closer to me until my back hits the wall.
Still, he steps closer, so that we are toe to toe. Feeling caged in by his huge bulk…
“Lorenzo… I really should go.” It comes out in a breathy whisper.
“Si… you should.” Okay what the fuck is going on?
“I shouldn’t want this.” His voice is husky, laced with… lust? For me?
“Want what?” I know perfectly well what he’s talking about but my ego wants to hear him say it.
“You… Bellezza.” (Beauty.)
“Uhm… Lorenzo I…”
“Elena, you have no idea what you are capable of. You’re a dangerous woman.”
“What? I most certainly am not.” I have no idea why I’m being defensive. Perhaps an Italian mountain calling me dangerous is reason enough.
“But you are Bellezza; I’ve tried so hard to keep these feelings at bay but …
” He shakes his head as if in surrender and denial.
As though he’s lost the battle. I had no idea he had feelings for me.
Sure, there were the odd exchanges, which generally happened in the kitchen but other than that…
Nothing. Looking at Lorenzo now, the man genuinely looks tormented.