Chapter 21
It's Sunday again, and like every Sunday, I promised myself a peaceful morning tea, music, and absolutely no drama.
But peace, apparently, doesn’t exist when your ex–almost–something lives next door.
I was sitting on the balcony, sipping chai, Leo curled up beside me, when I heard it that deep, infuriatingly calm voice.
“Morning, piccola.”
My grip on the cup tightened. I didn’t need to look up. I already knew.
Lorenzo was standing in his balcony, right across mine, in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair slightly messy the kind of messy that looked intentional. His mug of coffee in hand, his eyes shamelessly fixed on me.
Ignoring him, I took a slow sip of tea and reached for my phone, pretending to scroll through something important.
He didn’t take the hint. Of course, he didn’t.
“Still drinking that overly sweet tea?” he asked, smirking when I glanced up for a second. “I thought you liked your mornings quiet.”
“I did,” I replied sharply, “until someone started ruining them.”
His smirk deepened. “ Ouch ! You wound me.”
“I wish,” I muttered under my breath, standing up to head inside. But before I could, Leo barked loudly and ran straight toward the railing, tail wagging.
Great. Traitor.
Lorenzo chuckled. “At least he still remembers me.”
“Animals don’t hold grudges,” I shot back. “Unlike humans who vanish and come back pretending nothing happened.”
His gaze darkened just a little, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned lazily against the railing, looking at me like I was some kind of challenge.
“I didn’t come back to pretend,” he said quietly, voice almost teasing. “I came back to remind you.”
“Of what?” I asked coldly.
“That you still care.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “You really have an ego problem, Mr. Romano.”
He smiled slow, confident, and annoyingly beautiful. “Only when it comes to you.”
I turned away before he could see the heat rise to my cheeks. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re predictable,” he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.
That was it. I stormed inside, slamming the balcony door shut behind me. I could still hear his soft laughter through the glass, low and warm and utterly maddening.
Leo barked again, scratching at the door like he wanted to go back out. “No, Leo,” I sighed, collapsing on the couch. “We’re ignoring him. Got it?”
Leo whined.
“Don’t look at me like that. He’s not getting to me again.”
But even as I said it, my heart betrayed me beating faster with every echo of his voice drifting from the balcony next door.
After a moment, I changed into a plain white kurti and tied my hair in a messy bun, deciding a walk might clear my head or at least get me away from him.
Leo wagged his tail excitedly as soon as I grabbed his leash. “Don’t get too happy,” I warned. “We’re going out for peace, not to run into trouble.”
But the universe, clearly, had other plans.
The minute I stepped out of the building, I could feel it the familiar, unsettling awareness prickling at the back of my neck. That sense of being watched.
And of course, when I turned around there he was.
Lorenzo De Romano. Walking down the steps behind me, wearing sunglasses, that same infuriatingly calm smirk playing on his lips.
“Going somewhere, bella?” he drawled, sliding his hands into his pockets as if he coincidentally had nowhere better to be.
I groaned. “Do you ever stop appearing out of nowhere?”
He tilted his head. “You live next door. It’s hardly stalking if we’re neighbors.”
“Right,” I said, tightening Leo’s leash. “Then stay on your side of the neighborhood.”
But he fell into step beside me anyway.
Leo barked happily, trotting ahead like this was the best reunion ever. I swear, even the dog was rooting for my emotional downfall.
“You know,” Lorenzo began, voice lazy and teasing, “most people would be thrilled to have me accompany them on a morning walk.”
I shot him a glare. “I’m not most people.”
“Exactly,” he said, smiling like that was a compliment. “You’re mine.”
I stopped walking for a second, staring at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged casually. “You heard me.”
“You’ve officially lost it.”
“Three years without you,” he said softly, his tone dipping lower, “I think I did.”
That one line made something inside me twist. I looked away quickly, pretending to focus on Leo sniffing a bush. “You’re still dramatic, I see.”
He chuckled. “Only with you. Everyone else just gets the silence.”
“Lucky them.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes after that the sound of Leo’s paws and the city morning filling the air. I could feel his gaze on me though, heavy, constant, like gravity itself had chosen sides.
“Are you planning to follow me every morning now?” I asked finally, not bothering to hide my irritation.
“Only if you keep trying to avoid me,” he said smoothly.
“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied.
He grinned, leaning closer just enough for his breath to brush against my ear. “Then why is your heartbeat faster every time I talk to you, piccola?”
I took a sharp breath, stepping ahead quickly before he could see the flush creeping up my neck.
“Come on, Leo,” I muttered, pretending to ignore him. “Let’s go home before we catch an ego infection.”
Behind me, Lorenzo laughed low, rich, and annoyingly beautiful. And no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, that sound followed me all the way back.