Chapter 37
37
Victoria
Dinner feels like a hostage negotiation.
I’m currently sitting across from him, which isn’t saying much, because this room certainly isn’t intimate.
It’s huge.
This place doesn’t fit the man I know… knew.
I don’t know him now.
The table is long enough to seat a small nation, and Lorenzo, like the asshole he is, sits at the head like he was born into royalty.
And now that I know that his uncle runs the Amante crime family… I guess he is.
Despite everything, the man is gorgeous. He looks like he’s carved from stone. With broad shoulders and a squared jaw, it’s unfair he’s this handsome. Don’t even get me started on his deep brown eyes.
It should be criminal how much, even after all these years, I’m still attracted to him. And of course, I’m stuck sitting across from him.
Front row to my own personal nightmare.
There’s no one else here but us. It’s odd. Why does he pick to eat here if the rest of the spots are empty?
As if he can hear my inner thoughts, Rafe steps into the room.
Good. At least with him here, I won’t have to make small talk with Lorenzo.
He leans against the doorway, deciding whether he’s going to come sit or just stare. His gaze flicks over me.
Come on… join us.
Please.
“What are you waiting for? Sit or leave,” Lorenzo barks out, and if I could, I’d throw my fork and stab him with it.
Rafe, on the other hand, doesn’t seem put off by Lorenzo’s attitude and chuckles.
“Wasn’t sure if you lovebirds wanted company p>
“We do.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and Rafe can’t help but smirk.
“That’s what I thought,” he adds, before strolling toward the spot next to Lorenzo and then plopping down into the chair.
A member of the staff glides in, eyes down, hands steady, and sets a plate in front of me. I want to tell the young woman, I’m not like Lorenzo. She can make eye contact, and I won’t bite, but she’s already turned her back to me.
I can’t even identify what’s being served, but man, it smells good. My stomach growls. My lack of food today is now showing its face. In my defense, I couldn’t eat.
One: I didn’t want to bump into Lorenzo.
Two: Actually, it was just number one. I didn’t want to see him. Even now, I don’t want. But I wasn’t given a choice.
The air in this room feels heavy, and an awkward silence fills the space.
Lorenzo lifts his glass first. “To new beginnings.” He swirls the wine.
Rafe clears his throat and raises his own glass. “To… health p>
Why didn’t he mention me? Or our marriage? And then I remember what he said at my parents’ house…
The marriage is a secret.
Maybe it has to do with Lorenzo’s uncle, the man who sits on the family throne… Maybe if he found out, he would kill me? Shit. Is that it?
Maybe he sees marriage to me as a liability, a weakness.
Which means for the time being, or maybe forever, I’ll be the sin Lorenzo committed in secret.
I don’t toast back. I stare at my plate and then stab a piece of lettuce.
Lorenzo watches me, like he always does.
The silence stretches for so long that it starts to feel intentional.
The bastard is waiting for me to break first.
I try to refuse on principle, but eventually I crack.
“Is dinner always like this?” I scrap the edge of my plate with my fork.
“Like what?” Rafe leans forward, clearly excited for whatever answer I’m about to give.
“A riveting bundle of joy p>
Lorenzo tilts his head. “Careful, Little Bird.” His voice is as smooth as silk. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll start thinking you missed me p>
“Yeah. No. Can’t say that I’d ever miss this version of you… You know the version who probably carves people up in his spare time p>
His mouth curves, and while he might look handsome, the smile is also lethal. “You always had a talent for melodrama p>
I lean forward just slightly because if I sit back, I’ll look smaller, and I refuse to be small in front of him. “And you always had a talent for pretending you aren’t the problem p>
Rafe shifts, flicking his gaze between us like he’s watching a tennis match.
Lorenzo sets his glass down with a soft clink. The sound is delicate, the threat beneath it is not.
“Look at you”—he folds his hands like a man about to sign paperwork—“trying so hard to pretend you’re not terrified p>
“I’m not terrified p>
Lie.
Huge lie.
Enormous lie.
He nods toward my hands without moving anything but his eyes. “Then why are you gripping your fork like you plan to stab me with it p>
“Cause I do p>
Rafe actually snorts.
Lorenzo’s brow lifts, amused. “Don’t stop on my behalf p>
“Please stab him,” Rafe adds.
“Ugh. You’re so annoying.” I glare across the table, then look at Rafe next. “You too p>
“What did I do?” Rafe asks, shaking his head. “I think I miss when you were single,” Rafe says to Lorenzo.
Lorenzo doesn’t even look at him.
I push food around my plate, refusing to give him the satisfaction of me eating. After a second, I realize that’s exactly what he wants, and that doesn’t sit well with me. There’s no way that he deserves the satisfaction of my not eating. Eventually, I compromise by taking one bite.
Lorenzo eats with a maddening calmness. Every movement is controlled. He looks like he’s about to perform surgery. If he’s going to be so miserable in my company, why doesn’t he invite someone more entertaining over?
Halfway through the meal, the truth lands in me.
He can’t.
This dinner isn’t small because he wants romance. He kept it small because secrecy is survival.
The whole secret marriage thing.
I’m going to need to figure out why. Maybe I can use it to my advantage. Knowledge is power, after all.
After a few more minutes, Lorenzo finally stands.
My spine goes stiff when he moves closer to me, and I’m practically shaking when he steps behind my chair.
Lorenzo lowers his mouth to my ear. “I like the act. But both of us know none of it’s true p>
I have no idea what he’s talking about, and I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off before I can.
“Meet me in ten minutes in my study,” he says to Rafe, who nods, and then Rafe stands up from his chair and heads out of the room.
The door closes behind him, leaving Lorenzo and me alone.
“Come on. Let’s go p>
He leads me to his study, which is dimly lit but warm. It has mahogany shelves and leather chairs that look comfy. It smells like whiskey and Lorenzo.
I hate that I like the smell.
He shuts the doors with a soft click, and the sound seals me inside with him.
“That went well,” he drawls, drifting toward his desk all while my hands shake.
“Define well.” I cross my arms so he can’t see my pulse jumping in my throat.
He glances at me over his shoulder, a lazy smile on his face. “You didn’t try to run. I consider that growth p>
“I’m not running,” I grind out. “I’m enduring p>
His laugh is dark, low, delighted. “You always were stubborn p>
“You always were unbearable p>
“How sweet,” he coos, turning fully now. “You’re being nostalgic p>
I clench my fists. “What do you want p>
He picks up a velvet box from his desk and approaches slowly. “A gift p>
“I don’t want anything from you p>
“You’re getting it anyway.” He flips open the lid. A necklace sits nestled in black velvet. Diamonds.
Intricate and dazzling.
But I know what this is… while it might look like jewelry, it’s nothing more than a shackle.
“A wedding gift.” He lifts it delicately between his fingers.
“A nice gift would be an annulment,” I fire back.
“That would be a gift for you,” he counters. “This is for me p>
I take a step back. “I said no p>
He takes a step forward. “I didn’t ask p>
His hand goes to the back of my neck, and he draws me close, the clasp clicking into place like a lock.
The metal is cold against my skin, and a shiver runs down my back.
It’s from the necklace…
Oh, who am I kidding? It’s from him.
His breath drags along my shoulder blade as he leans in. “Now,” he whispers, thumb brushing the frantic beat in my throat, “you’ll remember what you are. Mine p>
My whole body goes rigid.
I shove his hand away and lift my chin in defiance. “You don’t own me p>
His smile sharpens. “I bought your silence. Your family’s stability. Your future.” He tilts his head, eyes cutting. “Call it whatever you must p>
“You’re disgusting p>
“And you’re glowing in diamonds. My diamonds.” His low timbre makes my knees wobble. “I’d say the arrangement is working p>
“I hate you p>
He shrugs, the movement casual, almost bored. “Hatred looks good on you p>
I want to rip the necklace off and throw it in his face.
Instead, I walk out without another word, because if I open my mouth again, I’ll either scream or cry, and I refuse to give him either as a gift.
I can feel his gaze between my shoulder blades as I go, like a blade sliding down my spine.
The necklace digs into my skin like a chain.
Once I’m back in the hallway, I yank it off with both hands, the clasp snapping open with a tiny, violent pop.
I stare at the diamonds in my palm.
I should smash it.
Throw it out the window.
Drop it down a drain.
Instead…
I head to my room, and when inside, I open the nightstand drawer, dropping it inside. Then slam the drawer shut so hard the wood rattles.
What the hell am I going to do?
I sit on the edge of the bed, shaking, angry, and most of all, humiliated. I’m sick of the fact that my heart is doing something it has no right to do.
He married me to ruin me.
And somewhere deep inside my ribs… in the place I swore was dead… my heart aches in a way I hate.
Not because I miss him.
Because I miss the version of him I loved so much, it almost killed me.
I bury my face in my hands, breath cracking against my palms.
The marriage may be a cage.
But the worst part?
Some broken part of me still remembers how it felt to love him.
And that part hurts most of all.