Chapter 58
Chapter 58
Lorenzo
"You're an absolute idiot," Matteo tells me the next day. Deep disappointment is etched into his face.
"Is it my fault she stormed off without letting me finish a single sentence?" I lower myself onto the worn sofa in the back of the warehouse, watching my friend through a haze of frustration as he fixes his bike.
"You should have gone after her," he says simply, checking his rear tire without looking up.
"I was about to." My voice drips with pure bitterness. "But Kingsley, that snake, was already watching from the mansion window. I swear to you, Matteo, the next person I punch is either my father or him."
"Did you text her or call her, at least?"
"What do you think I've been trying to do for the past two hours?" I growl, rubbing my face with my hands. I'm not stupid. The fact that she actually thinks I used her to prove some sick point is hitting every single nerve. Yes, Ben and Alex joked about it once, but I never took it as a bet.
It's driving me entirely insane.
I stand up, unable to sit still, and walk over to the heavy boxing bag hanging in the corner. I slide on the leather gloves, needing a physical outlet to drag the suffocating weight out of my chest.
I throw a hard right hook. Then a left
"You know what?" I stop, panting slightly as I turn around to face Matteo.
The anger drains out of me, replaced by something heavy and quiet.
"She does this thing with her eyes." I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, yesterday's image instantly burning behind my eyelids.
"Her eyes darken when she's furious. And somehow, they look exactly the same when she's sad."
The words leave my mouth before I can filter them. I turn back to the bag and hit it again, the dull thud echoing off the concrete walls.
"So, you kissed her, and then she cried," Matteo laughs dryly from across the garage.
I rip off one of my gloves and hurl it at his head. "Very funny."
Matteo catches the glove effortlessly, his amusement fading into a serious, heavy look. "Lorenzo, seriously now. How long do you want to keep lying to yourself? A blind man can see that you like her."
The words hang in the quiet air between us. Like her. It's a foreign, terrifying concept in my world.
Do I enjoy that she is refreshingly honest?
Yes.
But is this really more than that?
"Even if I do, it doesn't matter," I say, my voice flat and hollow. I unstrap the other glove and toss it onto the table. "She hates my guts. Especially after yesterday."
I take a deep, ragged breath, staring down at my split knuckles. "She hates me, Matteo. And I can't even blame her."
I pull my phone out of my pocket, desperately checking to see if she finally texted me back.
Nothing.
But as I'm about to lock the screen, a fresh notification pops up. She just posted to her story. I tap the screen, and the picture that appears hits me straight in the face like a brutal, physical punch.
It's Sophie. She is smiling radiantly into the camera, a massive scoop of ice cream melting in her hand. But the ice cream isn't the problem. The problem is the guy standing right behind her with his arm slung entirely too comfortably around her shoulders, flashing a wide, confident grin.
My fingers wrap even harder around the device until my knuckles turn white. A dark, dangerous wave of possessiveness claws at my chest, turning my blood to fire.
"I'm calling her again," I snap, my voice deadpan and lethal.
Without waiting for Matteo's response, I storm out of the warehouse and pace the concrete lot. I dial her number. The ringing is excruciating, stretching out for what feels like ten whole minutes before someone finally picks up.
"Hello?"
"Sophie?" I demand instantly, refusing to waste time on pleasantries.
"No, it's Maria. Sophie is in the restroom right now," she screams into the phone. The background noise is loud, chaotic, and grating.
I roll my eyes in deep frustration.
"Wait... Lorenzo? Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me," I growl, trying to keep my temper in check. "Tell her to read my fucking messages."
"She did," Maria replies flatly.
The words stall the breath in my throat. She did? She read them and deliberately chose to leave me on read? This girl is driving me absolutely insane.
"Then why the hell hasn't she written back?" I hiss.
"Because she thinks it's all just a game to you, Lorenzo. Oh—hold on. She's coming back. I gotta go."
Maria frantically hangs up before I can utter another syllable. The line goes completely dead.
Furious, I shove the phone back into my pocket, the rejection burning like a brand in my chest.
I march straight back into the warehouse, murmur a cold goodbye to Matteo, and jump into my car.
I slam my foot onto the gas pedal, tearing out of the parking lot, completely consumed by a blind, restless rage.
She wants to ignore me?