Do I really hate him?
Chapter 63
Sophia
"They jump?" I ask, my voice cracking with confusion. Matteo cuts me off before I can protest any further.
I have no idea where I suddenly found the strength to throw that punch. Jesus Christ, my knuckles are still throbbing, and oh my god
I just broke a man's nose.
I start pacing the floor, walking up and down the small room. I am completely overwhelmed. Everything is hit and run crashing down on me at once.
I just punched a guy.
And it felt amazing.
"Sophi..."
But oh my god, what kind of illegal nightmare is this?
Human trafficking?
No, no, I don't think it's that, but this is clearly so much bigger than stupid street bets, and I....
"Sophia." Maria's voice breaks through the roaring chaos in my head. I feel her warm arms wrap around my shoulders, gently guiding me down onto the sofa. "Don't forget to breathe," she reminds me calmly.
I let my gaze drift. And look past Maria's tired, reassuring smile, over to Matteo's completely emotionless stare. I glance at Ben, who has apparently lost his voice entirely, and finally over to Alex.
Why is Alex's gaze fixed so intensely on Maria?
"What does that mean, they jump?" I ask again, standing right back up when no one answers me.
Matteo pushes himself off the wall and walks over to me, his expression grim. "It means Santos is daring Lorenzo to jump from A to B."
"Fine. And where the hell is A and B?" I demand.
"Garage A to this garage," Alex joins in.
I nearly choke on my own breath. My knees go weak. "This is insane. They're rooftops."
"Yes, it is insane. But it's not impossible."
Lorenzo's voice cuts through the room. He steps toward us, fully dressed in his black leather biker suit. His helmet is tucked securely under his arm. He looks ready. Ready to what? Risk his goddamn life by jumping a motorcycle across a lethal gap between two buildings?
I shake my head, pure terror overriding my shock. "No."
I walk straight over to him, forcing myself to look up into those dark, bottomless eyes. I don't care what the rest of them think. "I am not letting you risk your life for me," I say, my voice shaking with a dangerous mix of fear and anger.
"What? Now we're caring?" he fires back. He dismisses it with a sharp, arrogant tilt of his head, acting like jumping a gap between skyscrapers is absolutely nothing.
"Lorenzo, I am being serious," I snap.
That stops him. He stares down at me for a long, silent second. Then, his hand grips my arm, firmly but gently pulling me into the shadows of the corridor, completely out of the others' line of sight.
The cold concrete wall presses against my back, but I can barely feel it over the heat radiating from his gaze. He steps in close, trapping me.
"There are a few things in my life, stalker," he starts, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register as he looks down at me. Believe it or not, there are things I am just not good at." A slow, wicked grin plays at the corners of his lips. "One of those things is sharing."
"But I..."
"I hate sharing my things, Sophia Miller," he cuts me off, his eyes dropping to watch me nervously bite my lower lip. "And you are my absolute favorite problem so far."
Before I can process the words, his thumb hooks under my chin. He lifts my face and presses his lips gently against mine. It's a brief, searing kiss that completely steals the air from my lungs.
He pulls back just an inch, his eyes glittering with dark amusement. "What you did out there was hot, by the way."
I flush crimson and shove his shoulder, making him let out a low, rough laugh. "How can you be so calm right now?" I whisper, exasperated.
"I'm a pro, remember?"
With that, Lorenzo steps back into the light, leaving me entirely alone with nothing but the cold feeling of the wall against my spine.
The second he is gone, panic ignites in my chest. I lunge forward, desperate to follow him out, but Alex shifts instantly. His massive frame blocks the exit like a brick wall. He doesn't say a word, just gives me a heavy, warning look that pins me to the floor. Stay here.
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms defensively over my chest as I trudge back to the sofa. I sit flush against Maria, my eyes instantly gluing themselves to the monitors.
On screen, the two bikes idle at the mouth of the double concrete helix.
The structures loop into the sky like two matching, skeletal spirals.
Lorenzo and Santos roll up to the starting line.
A third guy steps between the front tires, shouting the rules over the scream of the engines.
Downstairs, the crowd is erupting, a chaotic wall of noise, people screaming bets and laughing like beasts.
I sit completely frozen. I pray, begging that nothing happens to him.
The flag drops.
My breath catches in my throat as they launch.
The bikes tear up the sweeping, oil-stained concrete ramps, twin blurs of lethal metal.
They are climbing the parallel spirals, racing up opposite sides of the massive, open-air structure.
The next camera angle cuts to the upper decks.
Lorenzo doesn't hesitate for a single microsecond.
He guns the throttle to the absolute maximum.
"He's going for it first," Alex mutters, his voice turning deadly sharp as he steps closer to the screen.
Lorenzo hits the launch ramp first. Time completely dilates.
The world slows down to a crawl. The techno music in the warehouse seems to fade, replaced only by the roar of his engine echoing in mid-air.
His bike flies across the black void between the buildings, a perfect shadow cutting through the neon rain.
Santos launches seconds after him, but his timing is a disaster. The sudden rain slickens the ramp, and his rear tire slips, sending his bike twisting awkwardly in the air.
Lorenzo's tires slam onto the concrete of Garage B with absolute, pinpoint precision. He absorbs the impact effortlessly and roars across the finish line.
A moment later, Santos comes crashing down hard and uncontrolled. His bike fishtails dangerously across the wet roof, slides sideways, and slams violently into the barrier wall.
"Yesss!"
"Let's gooo!"
Alex and Ben explode into cheers, slamming their hands together in a brutal high-five. Matteo's rigid shoulders finally relax. Beside me, Maria throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a fierce hug.
"He did it," she whispers frantically into my ear.
My mind repeats the words, trying to make them real.
He did it. He's not dead.
We don't wait another second. The entire VIP room moves as one, pushing through the doors and making our way up to the rain-slicked rooftop.
I push open the heavy metal door, stepping directly into the downpour. The cold rain hits my face, but my eyes are only searching for one person. Other crew members are already up there, screaming and celebrating, while Santos's gang stands off to the side, looking utterly devastated and defeated.
When I spot him, my heart stops all over again. Lorenzo is sitting casually on his bike. He pulls off his helmet, shaking out his dark, fast soaked hair with effortless, devastating charm.
Why does he have to be so annoyingly handsome?
I bite the inside of my cheek, completely paralyzed. Maria gives me a gentle, encouraging shove from behind, signaling for me to go to him. I take a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the butterflies tearing up my stomach, and walk across the wet concrete.
"See, stalker?" he plays it off, a wicked smirk on his lips as he rests his helmet on the bike. "Told you it was nothing."
"I don't even know what to say to you," I admit honestly. Then, I lunge forward and punch his leather clad shoulder. "Except that you are absolutely, completely stupid."
The rain is soaking everything. My hair is plastered to my face, my clothes are heavy and dripping, but standing this close to him, the air feels blistering hot.
"I'm sorry, stalker," he says, the arrogance melting out of his voice. He tilts his head down slightly, still seated on his bike, looking up at me through wet eyelashes. The rain traces the sharp lines of his jaw.
"Never do that again," I whisper, my gaze helplessly drifting down to his lips, where a single raindrop hangs.
"This would have never happened if you'd stayed home."
"So now it's my fault you almost died?" I ask, my eyes widening in shock.
But his growing grin gives him away. Before I can utter another word of protest, Lorenzo closes the last few inches between us. He reaches up, wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and pulls me down into a devastating, breathless kiss.
Right there in the pouring rain. Completely uncaring that hundreds of people are watching us through the CCTV cameras downstairs, or that his enemies are standing mere feet away.
"Lorenzo, the cameras..." The words escape me in a breathless whisper. I try to pull back, but the heavy warmth of his hand against my spine holds me trapped against him.
"Let them watch," he murmurs against my lips. "I don't care" He kisses me again, a deep, bruising tilt that makes me smile despite the danger.
Right here, kissing him in the rain fells incredible.
I completely give in. I melt into his touch, needing him more than my next breath.
"You cut me off! That was a dirty move!"
A furious, crashing voice echoes through the rain, violently breaking the spell. Santos comes stumbling forward, clutching his, crooked nose. His face is a mask of dirt, blood, and humiliation.
I roll my eyes, instantly ready to step forward and defend Lorenzo, but his heavy, gentle grip on my arm holds me firmly back. He steps off his motorbike, his towering frame instantly casting a shadow over the broken man.
"You lost, Santos," Lorenzo projects the words, making them ring through the downpour. Santos grinds his teeth so hard I can hear it. "Now piss off. Or I'll have you and your entire pathetic gang removed from this city within the hour."
Ben, Alex, and Matteo step up beside us, forming an unbreakable wall of muscle.
"Besides, that was embarrassing, Santos," Alex scoffs, crossing his arms. "Calling a high stakes bid just to crash and burn like a complete amateur?"
"Yeah, man," Ben adds with a mocking laugh. "It was so boring I almost fell asleep watching you."
Santos looks like he is genuinely about to explode with pure, unadulterated rage.
" Don't forget our history brother" He spits blood onto the wet ground, glaring at me with murderous eyes.
"We are not over," he barks out, slamming his helmet back on. Bevor Lorenzo can do or say anything.And throws himself onto his battered bike, guns his engine, and drives off into the dark, his tires throwing up a spray of dirty water.
I let my gaze drift back to Lorenzo, wondering what that sudden, heavy feeling in my stomach actually is. I wonder what is changing between us right now, and how it even happened in the first place, because everything about this night feels completely twisted and unreal.
"You know, from where I'm standing..." Maria steps up beside me, her wet hair plastered to her face as the downpour slows to a drizzle. She looks over , watching Lorenzo lean against his bike. "I think he never really hated you."
"You think so?" I ask softly, my voice barely carrying over the wind.
My chest tightens as I watch him wipe a streak of rain from his jawline. I look down at my hands, my knuckles still red from the punch.
I have so many questions, yet so few answers. What are the four Heirs really trying to hide? What did Santos mean when he said we have history? And most importantly...
Do I really hate him?