Chapter 17
17
Victoria
I wake to the sound of my mother humming.
That’s the first sign something is wrong.
The second is the garment bag hanging from the armoire.
“Happy birthday, darling,” she sings, sweeping into my room with her hair perfectly curled and her lipstick already in place.
What the hell is happening? And why is she singing?
She hates me…
I squint at her. “It’s barely nine p>
“Exactly,” she chirps, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her silk blouse. “We have a schedule p>
“Do I get a say in this schedule?” I push myself upright, letting the sheets tangle around my legs.
“Don’t be difficult, Victoria Danforth p>
That’s the third sign. Because when she uses my full name, a disaster is guaranteed.
She claps her hands, and suddenly, I’m surrounded.
A makeup artist and a hairstylist, wielding enough hot tools to power a small city, have appeared out of nowhere.
If that’s not bad enough, a woman with a clipboard who looks like she organizes royal weddings for sport stands beside them.
Great, just fucking great.
I’m ushered out of my bed, in a whirlwind, and the next thing I know, I’m being thrust into the bathroom to brush my teeth, followed by being practically slung into a makeup chair.
I’m in a complete daze as foundation is buffed into my skin.
“Any particular look you’d like?” the stylist asks, holding up a palette like she’s offering me the gift of self-expression. Who is she kidding? If I tell her what I want, Mother would never allow it.
“Freedom,” I mumble under my breath.
She blinks, probably wondering if I really said that. Yes, sweetheart, I did.
“A soft smoky eye it is p>
Of course. The universal translation for your mother already told me what you are to look like.
Thanks for the false pretense, though.
For the next hour, I feel like a pincushion, and then my mother returns, making this moment even worse.
She holds out the garment bag. “Put this on,” she says.
I do as I’m told, unzipping it slowly.
It’s a gown. Midnight blue and strapless with a boned bodice. It’s pretty in a way that’s perfect for a princess, with layers of tulle that look like storm clouds.
She crosses over to me as she clasps her hands. “You’ll look divine p>
“I’ll look like a very expensive one, that’s for sure,” I mumble under my breath.
She doesn’t respond. Just waits, arms folded like an executioner with a schedule.
So I change. Because today is about pretending.
The zipper bites my skin, and then, when I put on my shoes, the heels make my feet scream.
The last straw is the damn necklace that clasps onto my skin like a collar.
But when I step out, my mother beams like she’s sculpted me herself.
“Perfect,” she says.
The door opens again.
And in walks my father.
He takes one long look at me… up, down, across. It’s like he’s inspecting a piece of merchandise that someone might return.
“You’ll do,” he says. “Now remember, the Jamesons will be here. You know what that means p>
I smile. Sweet and lethal. A sugar-coated blade.
“Be charming. Be silent. Be traded like a stock option p>
“Don’t test me tonight, Victoria p>
“Wouldn’t dream of it p>
He leaves without another word.
I stare at the mirror. The girl staring back doesn’t look like me.
She looks like the silent and obedient daughter they always wanted.
A puppet carved from stone.
With a giant sigh, I head toward the party.
The ballroom is drenched in opulence. Gold-trimmed everything and floral arrangements that cost more than most people’s rent.
A string quartet is currently playing something delicate, and soulless if you ask me.
Can this get anymore ridiculous?
I’m eighteen, not the queen of England.
Guests arrive in waves. All the same… Pretentious and people I just don’t want to associate with.
I stand at the top of the stairs like some tragic debutante, waiting to descend into the snake pit.
They clap when they see me, and my mother beams. My father, on the other hand, isn’t one to gush, so instead, he clinks glasses with a senator.
And I can’t stop scanning the room.
I know what I’m searching and hoping for, but it’s pointless.
Lorenzo isn’t here. Mother would never allow it.
In her mind, he doesn’t belong in a castle.
Even if he’s the only thing that makes me feel real.
It doesn’t take long for the one person I hope will not find me to find me. My life is a comedy of errors. I definitely pissed off a god because there he is. Grant Jameson stands by the champagne tower, naturally.
“Birthday girl.” He steps too close, his grin stretched thin. If my life were a book, he would be the villain. Actually, so would my father… Can a story have two villains?
“Unfortunately,” I reply, lifting my glass and wishing it were poison.
He smirks. “You look exquisite,” he says, eyes raking down my dress. “Your father must be proud p>
“He is. Of the stock value I’m projected to bring in p>
Grant laughs. I don’t.
He hands me another glass of champagne when mine is empty, one I didn’t ask for, then places his hand on the small of my back like he’s claiming me.
I’m already taken.
“You know, when we get married, we should honeymoon somewhere with fewer clothes p>
I recoil, my voice sharp enough to cut him. “We p>
“Come on,” he drawls, tapping the rim of his glass. “Don’t act shy. Your father practically handed you over on a platter. I’m just here to enjoy the meal p>
I go cold. Glacial, in fact.
“Don’t talk to me like that.” I step into his space.
He laughs like I’m adorable. Then he touches my hip. Because he doesn’t care what I think or how I feel. I’m an object. Something to possess. Nothing more. Nothing less.
That’s it. I need out. Now.
“Excuse me,” I say brightly, smiling the way women smile when they’re two seconds from committing arson. “Bathroom p>
I walk. Fast. Heartbeat roaring. Stomach twisting. Vision tunneling.
I turn a corner, and a hand grabs mine, pulling me into a side corridor.
“Jesus,” I gasp, slamming into the wall of his chest.
He’s in black. No tie. Hair slightly messy, but it’s his eyes that make me gasp. They burn like he’s Orpheus, and he’s walked through hell to reach me.
“Hi.” His hands still hold my arms to steady me.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, breath hitching.
“You really thought I wouldn’t show up on your birthday?” He brushes his thumb over my wrist like he’s soothing sparks under my skin.
I want to cry.
Instead, I pull him down and kiss him like drowning people grab air.
He grins against my mouth. “Come on p>
“Where are we going?” I let him tug me along the hallway.
“Away from here p>
We sneak through the kitchen, then make our way through the staff doors. The next hallway we walk through is dim and narrow, but it’s not long before we are outside. We dash across the garden, then across the lawn. My dress whips around my ankles, but I don’t care. I’m desperate to be far away from that damn party.
The tightness in my chest doesn’t dissipate until we reach the boathouse.
Lorenzo flings the door open, then walks over to the corner, grabbing the blanket I stored there, and lays it down.
I stride over to him and don’t wait for permission, no. I throw my arms around him, and he holds me like he’s never letting go.
We sink to the floor, bodies pressed together, breaths tangled.
Then his lips brush my temple. “You looked like you were suffocating in there p>
“I was,” I breathe.
He presses his mouth against my skin. “You’re not alone, Little Bird. Not anymore p>
I kiss him again. Like this is the one place I still belong.
For a second, I forget how to breathe.
The moonlight streaming in through the dirty window casts a glow across his handsome face.
I shift closer to him, needing there to be no distance between us.
Lorenzo’s eyes seem darker than usual, intense and bottomless.
Something shifts in the air between us.
“Little Bird, you can’t look at me like that p>
“Why not?” I whisper.
“Because I’m not sure I won’t die if I can’t touch you p>
“Who says I won’t let you touch me p>
“Will you let me touch you, Victoria p>
My body shivers at his words. “Yes p>
His lip tips up into a sexy smirk. “Good to know… ”
I lean in, closing the space between us slowly, telling him with my body that I’m serious. I want this. I want him.
He leans in, too.
“You sure p>
“Yes.” And before he can ask again, I brush my lips against his, it’s soft at first—tentative. But then he presses closer. Sealing his mouth to mine.
I open to him, and he takes the moment to slip his tongue into my mouth.
Lifting my hands, I grab onto his shirt.
He kisses me like I’m everything, and when I’m in his arms I feel like I am.
He cups my face in his hands, deepening the kiss.
I swear the world around us fades away.
There is no party.
No parents.
No Grant.
It’s just us.
With each passing second, the kiss grows hungrier.
More frantic.
Until we are all tongue and teeth.
I tug his shirt up, pulling away from his mouth for a brief second.
“Your turn,” Lorenzo practically growls.
His hands find the back of my dress and pull the string.
“You can’t do it like that p>
“Show me p>
I stand, and then once I’m standing, he follows suit, turning me around and loosening the strings.
The dress falls away from my frame. I’m left standing in front of him in only a small pair of white panties.
“Turn around.” His voice is rough and gravelly.
I follow his order, turning to face him, hands now covering my breasts.
He shakes his head. “Lower your hands p>
I do.
My nipples pebble instantly.
His gaze meets mine, and he breaks eye contact to look at me.
Down my face, over my collarbone, and then it drifts down farther.
“You’re perfect.” He moves closer, hands reaching out, trailing across by jaw, down my neck, until his palms cup my breasts. “So perfect p>
I feel needy, my body tingling with built-up tension.
“I need you,” I admit, making his eyes darken.
“Where do you need me p>
I lick my lips. “Everywhere p>
Lorenzo nods, drops his hands, and strips off his own clothes. Then he takes my hand in his and helps me down to the ground and lies beside me.
Only a second passes before we’re crashing back together.
Kissing.
Biting.
Claiming each other with our mouths.
His hands roam all over me.
Fingers caressing. Touching. When his hands find my breasts again, he pulls and teases my nipples.
It’s like there is a line that runs straight down to my core. I squirm against him, and he must notice because his hands leave my breasts and trail lower.
“Is this what you need?” His hands part my thighs. Then I feel him, one finger finding my clit.
I’m hot and wet. And desperate for more.
He gives me what I want.
Rubbing furiously until I’m lifting my hips and begging for more.
“Touch me,” he rasps. I reach my hand out and grip his hardness at the base. Tugging upward, I draw a groan from him. “Fuck. That feels so good. I need to fuck you p>
“Okay p>
“Okay?” he asks, and I nod. “You’re going to let me fuck you p>
I nod again, and he shakes his head. “I need words, Victoria p>
“Please fuck me p>
He smirks at that, and it’s nearly my undoing.
He’s so damn handsome that I can barely take it.
I watch as he reaches into the pocket of his pants on the floor beside us and grabs a condom.
Lorenzo wastes no time slipping it on.
Then he’s back beside me, parting my legs, but instead of placing his cock there, he lines his face with my core.
His mouth moves to latch onto my clit.
I squirm beneath him, loving the sensation, but it’s so intense I can’t help but move.
“Shh,” he coos. “I got you. Let me take care of you p>
His tongue continues to devour me, as his finger slips inside me until he’s fucking me with his hand.
“I love how wet you are p>
I moan at his filthy words. Loving them. Needing them.
My head rolls back while Lorenzo strokes a spot inside me that drives me crazy. Before I know it, my vision is spotty, and it feels like a rubber band is pulled so tight it’s going to snap. “I want you to come on my dick p>
Before I can ask what he means, Lorenzo pulls his finger out and crawls on top of me. The tip of his cock is poised right outside my entrance.
“Are you sure you want this, Little Bird p>
I wiggle, lifting my hips so that the tip slips inside me.
“Someone is impatient p>
“Please,” I beg.
“Okay, but this is going to hurt,” he warns as he moves his hips. The tip of his cock slips farther inside me.
It feels so tight.
So snug.
It’s hard to breathe as he moves another inch. The feeling is weird but not unwelcome.
“I’m almost there,” he tells me, and I move my hips again. Another inch.
God, I feel so full.
“You ready p>
“Yes p>
Lorenzo pulls his hips back and then pushes forward. A snap of pain blurs my vision as he breaks through my resistance, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.
“Fuck,” Lorenzo grits through clenched teeth. “You feel so fucking good p>
For a moment, he doesn’t move his body, his lips finding mine and kissing me senseless.
I swirl my hips, testing the feeling of him inside me.
A groan escapes his mouth. “Patience p>
“I don’t want to be p>
“I don’t want to hurt you p>
“You won’t. I trust you p>
“As you wish.” He pulls his dick out, then pushes back in.
My eyes widen at the sensation, but I love it. I love every single second of it.
He pulls out again, then pushes forward.
“I’ve never felt anything this good.” He groans against my lips as his dick slips in and out of me. A moan escapes my mouth, which must signal to him that he can give me more because he starts to thrust faster and harder. “So good p>
“Are you going to come?” I ask, reaching around and pulling him closer to me.
“Not until you do.” I lift my brow in question when he reaches his hand between our bodies. His finger finds my clit again. “Be a good girl, Victoria, and come for me p>
I’m about to say I don’t know if I can, when his fingers begin to rub me again. This time, they match the pace of his hips.
“Oh god,” I moan.
He picks up his pace.
His thrusts come faster and harder.
“I’m coming,” I pant as my pussy tightens and begins to flutter around his dick.
Lorenzo pulls back, his gaze leaving mine and looking at where we’re joined.
I look down to follow his gaze and see what he’s looking at.
He’s watching himself fuck me. Watching as his dick pulls out, glistening before he thrusts back in.
It’s the most erotic thing I have ever seen and throws me over the edge.
Heart pounding.
Body trembling.
“That’s right. Come all over my cock.” And I do. Just like he tells me to.
Lorenzo fucks me harder through my orgasm, his cock jerking inside me as he comes too. We lie on the floor after, tangled together. My head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy, reverent patterns on my bare shoulder.
The silence between us is full…
Full of everything we haven’t said, yet everything we’re terrified to admit.
But I say one thing. The one thing I need to.
“I love you p>
He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding that breath since the day we met.
His hand slides into my hair, pulling me closer.
“I love you too p>
I lift my head. “What happens now p>
He looks up at the ceiling as if it might offer a map out of this place. “We figure it out,” he whispers. “I’ll wait for you. However long it takes p>
Tears prick my eyes, but I smile. Because for the first time in years, maybe ever, I believe something might actually be mine.