What ?
Chapter 25
Lorenzo
"I bet she's sitting in some corner crying," Alex says, dropping down beside us.
Vivienne makes a small, pleased sound of agreement. She shifts closer to me on the seat, close enough that I can smell the heavy sweetness of her perfume. Tilting her head, she lets her mouth curve into that particular smile she deploys when she wants something. She leans in.
"So," she murmurs. Her hand moves to my waist, fingers walking slowly downward toward my belt. "How about you and I..."
Ben and Alex crack open another beer each. They don't even bother pretending not to find this funny. They just watch.
I catch Vivienne's hand. I wrap my fingers around her wrist and stop her without even looking at her face.
I don't know why, but I don't feel like getting a blowjob right now. As a matter of fact, I don't want it from her. Not tonight. Not ever, if I can help it.
I firmly push Vivienne's hand back toward her own lap, take a slow drink of my beer, and say absolutely nothing. The offended noise she makes is a sound I have heard enough times to be completely immune to.
"You are an asshole " She snaps upright, smooths down her dress, and disappears into the crowd.
"Don't you two have something better to do?" I ask, turning a cold gaze toward Ben and Alex.
"Yep!" Alex shouts.
With absolutely no hesitation, he climbs right onto the seat cushion, a champagne bottle gripped in his hand.
"Partyyyy" He shakes the bottle. The cork pops.
Champagne arcs high over a section of the crowd below.
The people react with a roar that is equal parts delight and outrage.
Alex grins like he has personally invented joy.
"First one to bring a chick back wins," Ben announces. And hits Alex on the chest with the back of his hand. Both of them are already scanning the crowded room with the focused, predatory energy of a military briefing.
I watch them disappear down the spiral staircase, leaving me alone.
"I sometimes wonder which one of them is more stupid," Matteo says beside me putting his phone down.
"Same," I say.
"What did your father want today?"The question lands quietly, but it hits like a physical strike.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. It's a small, automatic defense mechanism, the kind your body produces before your mind can catch up and mask it. I take a slow breath. I stare down at the condensation on the beer bottle in my hand.
"He was an asshole," I say, my voice flat. "Same as always."
Matteo doesn't push. He knows better.
The thing is, I have been sitting here for the last twenty minutes trying not to think about it. But fighting the memory is taking up far more energy than just letting it consume me would.
"Lorenzo." Matteo's voice pulls me back from the edge. He is looking at me with that specific expression he uses when he has already mapped out exactly what I am thinking, trying to decide how much of it to call me out on. "You are not like him."
I look at him.
I know, I think. I'm worse.
Because my father at least has the sick honesty to pursue his own vicious interests without pretending otherwise. What I did tonight necessary.
I told myself it was strategy. I told myself it was logical, a clean, reasonable move.
She doesn't belong here. Better she finds out now.
I'm doing her a favor. I actually believed it.
Mostly. Right up until the exact moment I watched her stand there in that crowd , her hand pressed flat against her jacket, her jaw set, and her eyes completely dry.
She didn't cry.
Without realizing it, I had expected her to break. I wanted her to break.
But she didn't.
I shake my head , a sharp, physical attempt to clear the image from my mind finish the last of my beer, and stand up.
"I know," I say shortly, moving toward the loud hum of the dance floor before he can respond.
Forget. That is the command. Just goddamn forget.
I let the crowded VIP deck absorb me. Up here, the bass became so loud it physical pulse vibrating through my ribs. It takes about thirty seconds before someone finds me.
A brunette materializes out of the smoke.
Her hands are in my hair before I've fully registered she's there, her mouth instantly pressing against mine.
I taste vodka and something sickly sweet underneath it.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Vivienne across the deck.
Her hand is resting on some random guy's chest, but her eyes are locked on my peripheral vision.
She's watching to make sure I notice. Making sure it registers.
I wrap my hand around the brunette's waist and yank her flush against my hips.
What Vivienne can do, I can do better.
The brunette breaks away for air, her lips swollen, her eyes bright and dilated as she looks up at me.
It's that particular look. The one that says she doesn't care that I don't know her name, because the name isn't the point.
Taking my hand, she guides it down, pressing my palm flat against her chest, tilting her head with a small, inviting smile.
I drag her back in, burying my mouth over hers, forcing my tongue past her lips without an invitation.
My fake smile lasts exactly one more second.
"You are so fucking hot," she moans into my mouth, arching her body tighter against mine, her fingers clawing desperately through my hair.
I deepen the kiss, letting her push against me, desperately trying to feel a single spark of genuine heat. But there is nothing. It's the same dry, emotionless, hollow shit I experience with Vivienne.
It's just friction.
It's fucking empty.
"Come with me," I growl against her lips, the music drowning out the words as I wrap my fingers around her wrist. I haul her through the flashing lights into a dark, recessed corner of the deck, shoving her back firmly against the wall.
"Yes," she whispers, her head dropping back, exposing the long line of her neck for me to bite.
With one hand pinned over her shoulder to hold her in place, my other hand slides down. I rough up the fabric of her dress, my fingers moving high up her thigh, making her grind blindly into the kiss, a sharp gasp catching in her throat.
But right as the heat is supposed to hit, Ben and Alex materialize out of the shadows. Both of them are breathless. Both of them are wearing a manic expression as if they have witnessed witnessed something so monumental they might physically explode if they don't report it immediately.
"What," I spit out, tearing my mouth away from the brunette and stepping back, my chest heaving with pure irritation.
"Bro," Ben starts, clutching his ribs like he's run a marathon.
" You. You are not going to believe what we just saw"
"We were dancing," Alex cuts in, shoving past him to catch his breath. "And we saw this girl..."
"This incredibly hot girl"
"Who was just...completely going for it"
"Totally lost in the music"
"Unreal, honestly"
They tell the story the way they tell all stories, in a frantic relay race, interrupting each other, doubling back, adding sloppy details the other missed.
I am already internally rolling my eyes before they even reach the punchline, because the point with Ben and Alex is always the exact same point.
"I went over," Alex says, finally recovering enough breath to dominate the narrative.
"And?" I snap, my hand still resting absentmindedly on the brunette's hip.
"She shut me down," he admits. The fact that he finds his own rejection hilarious rather than humiliating is one of Alex's only tolerable qualities. "But that's not even the thing"
"It was her," Ben cuts in, his eyes wide.
I stop. I look at him. "Who?"
"The little one," Alex says, snapping his fingers aggressively, squinting as if the name is just out of reach. "Sara? Sandy?"
"Sophia!"Iwispre more to myself then to them.
"Yes"
My smile drops.
My gaze locks onto Ben, then snaps to Alex. The air in my lungs suddenly feels like concrete.
"She's down on the main dance floor," Ben says. He's watching my face now, his voice dropping, reading my expression with the cautious attention of a sailor watching a deadly weather system roll in. "She's...I don't know, man. She looks..."
"Different," Alex finishes. He pauses. The teasing smirk vanishes from his face, replaced by something entirely too honest. "Really different."
What in the absolute hell is she doing?
"Bro, I didn't know she had it in her," Alex laughs, a trace of genuine admiration in his voice.
That tone causes a sudden, violent spike of pure adrenaline to rip through my chest. It makes everything a million times worse.
I push past them to the edge of the railing, my eyes scanning the writhing crowd below until they lock onto her.
I freeze.
Sophia is pulling her thick hair up with both hands, laughing wildly at something Maria is saying.
She is completely, utterly lost in the music.
Her arms are raised in the air, her hips moving with a fluid, devastating rhythm that makes my throat go completely dry.
It's the kind of dancing that has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to be watched, and everything to do with not giving a single shit whether anyone is looking.
The short, tight fabric of her dress clings to every single curve of her body, shifting over her skin like oil. The flip-flops. The messy, untamed hair.
While Alex and Ben stand beside me thoroughly enjoying the view, my vision narrows into a dangerous tunnel.
A dark, possessive urge claws its way up my throat.
All I can think about is marching down those stairs, wrapping my hand around her waist, and dragging her away from the pack of drooling bastards who are staring at her like they've never seen a fucking woman before.
But that thought is dangerous. It's erratic. I bury it instantly.
What the fuck am I thinking?
My jaw tightens so hard my molars ache. My breath stalls completely when I see them.
Fine. Let her dance.
I don't fuckig care
"So, what do we do?" Ben asks, turning to me, noticing that I've already violently pivoted my entire body in the opposite direction.
Away from her. Away from the dress, the rhythm, and the entire situation I created, which is now spiraling violently out of my control.
"Nothing," I bitt out the word scraping like broken glass against my throat.
"Bro, what?"
"Let her have fun." I force my voice to remain completely flat, trying to convince myself far more than them. "I don't give a damn."
Alex and Ben exchange a look.The look.
I don't even need to face them to know exactly what is written across their features. I can feel the weight of their smug grins burning into the side of my face as I deliberately stare at the opposite wall, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Oh," Alex says slowly, dragging out the syllable until it grates on my nerves. "Is someone..."
"Don't," I warn, my voice dropping an octave.
"...jealous?"
"Fuck off," I snap, turning on my heel to walk away before either of them can utter another word I'll have to pretend I didn't hear.
"I bet you want to be the guy grabbing her body in that tight dress and pulling her into a kiss!" Ben shouts after me, his loud voice easily carrying over the thumping bass.
Making me freez in my track.The mental image hits my brain like a physical blow to the solar plexus.Me. Holding her. Crushing that tight fabric against my chest. Breaking her defiance with a kiss.
Without thinking, pure instinct takes over.
I spin back around, my eyes frantically scanning the dance floor below, my fists clenching so hard my knuckles click loudly over the music.
My entire body is wired to throw a punch, every muscle coiled, ready to tear apart whoever is touching what is supposed to be mine.
But there's nothing. She's still alone, dancing with Maria.
Behind me, Alex and Ben double over, completely losing their minds, howling with laughter. Because, of course, it was a trap. Nobody was kissing her.
Fucking idiots
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Hey guys ?????♀?I hope you enjoyed reading this book so far the next chapter is going to change a lot between Lorenzo and Shopia ????????
What do you think is going to happen?