Chapter 48
48
Victoria
I sit at the long table with my arms crossed. I’m still wearing yesterday’s sweater, and if I’m being honest, I’m also still in a bad mood.
My foot bounces under the table.
I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. There’s no reason for me to be worked up, but I am.
Across from me, Lorenzo reads something on his phone. It’s infuriating how calm he is. He’s got his damn elbow on the table, and untouched coffee in front of him, and hair still damp from a recent shower.
The kicker…
He hasn’t looked at me once.
Not once.
Which somehow makes everything worse.
I clear my throat loudly.
Nothing.
I shove my plate away; the porcelain scraping against the wood. The jarring sound gets his attention.
Despite everything, he takes his time acknowledging my existence. His gaze lifts so damn slow, I want to punch him. He’s trying to piss me off. I know he is. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Lorenzo is baiting me for a fight.
Insufferable asshole.
“Something wrong with your eggs?” His smooth voice is conversational, as though he didn’t almost kiss me last night while simultaneously egging me on for a battle.
Did I mention I hate him?
I lean forward, palms flat on the table. “I need to leave p>
One brow lifts. “You just got here. You’ve barely touched your breakfast.” He gestures toward my plate.
I bite the inside of my cheeks while counting to five slowly in my head so I don’t throw something at him, most likely my plate.
“My parents’ house,” I clarify, each word clipped. “I need to go to my parents’ house p>
Silence stretches. Long and tedious.
Lorenzo sets his phone down. “No p>
My jaw tightens. “I wasn’t asking p>
“You don’t get to not ask.” He folds his hands. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to do anything, Little Bird p>
“That’s how you think this works?” I push back from the table and stand. “I’ve been trapped in this house with guards who won’t speak to me, cameras in every corner, and a husband who, quite frankly, sucks. I need to see someone, even if that someone is my mother p>
His eyes sharpen. “There’s staff p>
“I can’t talk to them,” I fire back. “They report to you p>
“Well, technically, they report to the house manager,” he corrects coolly. “There’s a difference p>
“Not to someone who’s locked in,” I shoot back.
He rises slowly, the chair barely making a sound as he stands. The movement draws my attention in a way I hate. Damn him and his broad shoulders.
“You’re not locked in,” he responds. “You’re protected p>
I laugh, but the sound holds no humor. “That’s a cute lie. Did you practice it in the mirror p>
He steps closer to the table. “Don’t forget, the roads are closed p>
“Then fly me out,” I snap. “I’m sure you can steal a helicopter. Maybe a plane. You’re a criminal after all p>
His mouth curves. “Absolutely not. Can’t risk it p>
My chest tightens. “Yes, you can. I want my mother. I want my father. I want someone who’s not you p>
His jaw flexes.
Good. That hit a nerve.
If he’s mad at me, there is less chance he will associate with me, and then I won’t do something stupid like kiss his smug face.
“I’m a hostage,” I say, voice shaking despite my best efforts.
The word hangs there, ugly and honest, and he moves faster than I expect. In two strides, he’s around the table, closing the distance until I have to tilt my head back to look at him. Heat radiates off his body.
“Watch your mouth,” he commands.
I swallow, then lift my chin. “Make me p>
The air between us snaps tight. I know I should stop taunting him, but I can’t bring myself to quit. Instead, for a second, I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like if he took away my choice and just kissed me.
A soft sigh falls from my lips. Against my lips, I can almost feel the ghost of something touching my skin.
My lids flutter open, and my gaze collides with Lorenzo’s. His pupils are huge and dark. The depth and longing appear endless. He looks like he might devour me.
I step back, heart racing.
Get yourself together.
I take a deep breath and rein in my emotions. Remembering what I was trying to say before I got sidetracked by need and want.
“I never did anything to you.” The words spill out of my mouth with a raw intensity I don’t normally show. “I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve to have my life ripped apart because you decided to punish me p>
His eyes darken. “You left p>
“I was a kid. I did what I was told. I didn’t know p>
“Enough.” He cuts in, voice sharp now. “This is how things have to be p>
“Why?” I demand. “Because it’s easier for you? Because you don’t know how to let go of a grudge without turning it into a war p>
His hand curls at his side. “Because letting you walk back into your old life as if nothing happened isn’t an option p>
I step into his space, fury buzzing under my skin. “You don’t get to decide that p>
“I already did p>
The slap happens before my brain catches up to what I’m doing. My hand reaches up and connects with his cheek, the sound loud in the quiet room. A sharp crack that echoes all around us.
My breath catches as his head turns slightly with the impact.
For one terrifying second, the room goes utterly still.
Then his hand closes around my wrist. His touch is not crushing, but it’s not gentle either.
He steps in, forcing me back until my spine hits the wall beside the window. One arm cages me in, palm braced against the wall just inches from my head.
His voice drops, low and lethal. “Don’t p>
My pulse screams to run, but I don’t. “Let go of me p>
“Don’t hit me.” His eyes lock on mine. “Ever p>
“You don’t get to do this to me,” I counter, chest heaving. “You don’t get to isolate me p>
His grip tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but I know he’s there.
“I never did anything to you,” I repeat. “I didn’t betray you. I didn’t ruin you. I don’t deserve to be locked away from my family p>
For a moment, something flickers across his face.
I can’t place it, but it doesn’t feel like anger. It looks like pain, but that doesn’t make sense.
Before I can overanalyze it, the look slips from his face.
“This is the way things have to be.” His voice is quieter now. “You’re safer here p>
“From what p>
His gaze searches my face, jaw clenched. “From everything that would lead you to hurt me p>
The words land heavy.
“But the thing is, you don’t get to make that choice for me p>
His gaze doesn’t waver as he stares at me.
The room feels too small.
I can feel his breath on my skin, feel the tension coiling tighter with every second he doesn’t move away. My wrist is still trapped in his hand, my body pressed against his, and of course my heart beats faster. My damn treacherous heart…
This is the danger.
Not the guards.
Not the snow.
This.
I swallow, needing to pull myself together. “Let go p>
His jaw flexes, and for a heartbeat, I don’t think he will, but then his hand releases my wrist. He steps back abruptly, making his arm drop from the wall.
I watch him as he drags his hand through his hair. It almost looks like he wants to say something but is refraining.
“You want to go to your parents’ house?” he says, voice rough. “We’ll discuss it when the roads open p>
“That’s not an answer p>
“It’s the only one you’re getting.” He grabs his jacket from the chair and turns to walk away. “I’m done with this conversation p>
“You’re running,” I accuse.
He pauses at the doorway, shoulders tense. “I’m exercising restraint p>
He doesn’t look back.
The door shuts behind him with a solid finality that echoes through the room.
I slide down the wall slowly, legs giving out as adrenaline drains from my system. My hand trembles where he held it. My cheek burns with the ghost of his presence.
I press my forehead to my knees, breathing hard. Shaken. That’s what I am. By him. By myself.
By the way my body reacted when he crowded me.
I hate him, hate this.
And most of all, I hate that I leaned in instead of pulling away.