32. Chapter Thirty Two #3
His arm comes around me automatically, pulling me closer without interrupting whatever he is doing on his phone.
“You tired?” he murmurs.
“No.”
He glances down at me.
I close my eyes. “Completely awake.”
“Of course.”
“I could run a marathon.”
“I bet you would win too.”
“Definitely,” I murmur.
His chest moves beneath my cheek with his laugh.
I smile without opening my eyes and let myself relax against him.
The car is warm, the road beyond the windows almost completely dark, and the rain creates a rhythm against the roof that makes staying awake increasingly difficult.
There is very little traffic this late, just the occasional wash of headlights passing in the opposite direction before darkness closes around us again.
Lorenzo’s thumb moves absently against my upper arm.
It does not help.
Neither does the fact that I am full enough to regret the third helping of pasta, the apple crostata, and every tiny almond cookie someone kept pushing at me. And I happily ate.
I shift my cheek against his shoulder.
“Your family tried to kill me with food. It's a very sneaky assassination attempt.”
“They liked you.”
“Is attempted murder how Contis show affection?”
“Frequently,” he says, amused.
A light behind my eyelids makes me tighten them in defense. When I can stand it, I crack an eye open to see his phone screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking my schedule tomorrow.”
“Ugh.”
“I have meetings.”
“You should cancel them. All of them.”
“I suspect several people would object.”
“I wouldn’t. In fact, I would be very appreciative.”
“Mmm,” he rumbles. “Very tempting.”
I open my other eye to see better. He has his calendar open.
Rows of appointments fill the day beneath tomorrow’s date, little blocks of time stacked one after another in a way that makes me tired just looking at them.
“Oh God, that's your schedule tomorrow?” I ask, appalled.
“Unfortunately.”
“Cancel them.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
I tilt my head up to look at him. “Stay home with me tomorrow,” I whisper. “I'll make it worth your while.”
“You are a very bad influence on me.” His breath brushes my lips.
“I think you could use a bad influence.”
His lips meet mine in a kiss that practically melts my brain. I am still trying to recover when he pulls back.
“I'll think about it,” he whispers.
I sag against him.
“You’ll think about it? That's all I get? The woman you love?” I murmur, pressing my cheek to his shoulder again. "Now I'm exhausted and rejected."
That makes him laugh. He kisses my temple.
“Let me finish. I will think about it as I rearrange my schedule so I can leave the office early," he says. "Then, I can spend the entire afternoon and evening with you."
I consider for a moment.
“You drive a hard bargain, Conti,” I say. “But I accept.”
I let my eyes close again as sleep begins creeping over me in slow waves.
I can feel it happening, that strange point where my thoughts stop connecting properly and everything around me begins drifting farther away. The low hum of the engine blends with the rain. Lorenzo’s body is warm against mine. Mocha shifts near my feet and then settles again.
I am almost asleep when Lorenzo moves his phone slightly.
The light of the screen catches my attention again.
Calendar.
Tomorrow.
The date sits at the top.
I stare at it without lifting my head.
I know the date.
Obviously I know the date.
But something about seeing it written there, surrounded by the rest of the month, tugs at me.
My brows draw together.
What is bothering me?
I blink slowly and try to focus.
The little grid of dates swims slightly because I am too tired to make my eyes cooperate.
I count backward.
Or maybe forward.
No, backward.
I mentally retrace the last few weeks, but the thoughts keep slipping away from me before I can hold onto them.
The day I set up my office, the day I met Lorenzo. The hotel, Alessio, Rachel. Lorenzo at my house.
The days blur together and become weeks.
I look at the calendar again.
There is something wrong.
Something off.
Something I should have noticed before now.
I lift my head slightly from Lorenzo’s shoulder.
He glances down. “What?”
I barely hear him.
I count again.
One week.
Two.
Then another.
My sleepiness begins evaporating.
Wait.
I stare at the date.
My pulse gives a strange little jump.
No.
I count again because I must have missed something.
I did not.
A slow realization begins forming through the fog in my brain.
Something so obvious that I cannot believe I have not thought of it.
Something that suddenly makes several other things make a lot more sense.
Scarfing down a box of crackers, eating three helpings of pasta, plus apple crostata, all of my emotions, being weepy.
I straighten a little more.
“Lorenzo…”
The SUV jerks violently sideways.
My shoulder slams into him as tires scream against wet pavement.
Mocha barks sharply from the floor as he tries to find purchase with his claws.
Someone shouts from the front.
The phone flies out of Lorenzo’s hand as another impact hits us from the side, hard enough to throw me against the seat belt.
The SUV fishtails across the slick pavement, and suddenly we are spinning out of control.