If anything, Lorenzo is the only man I’m bitterly sweet to. Everyone feels the wrath of a disowned Abbiati. I haven’t had contact with my family back in Manhattan for the entire duration of my stay here, and I don’t see that changing. The next time that I see them will be the first time I hear them, too. I won’t lie, I was forced to leave so quickly in the middle of the night that I never saw their reactions nor did they have the opportunity to fight for me. I dread to think about what their reaction will be when I eventually make it home. A part of me fears they’ll hate me and disown me. The rest of me just wants to run into Enzo’s embrace and allow him to fix everything and make me disappear with the help of Carlo. But I worry I will never see such an outcome. Their lack of contact stole my hope and that last night in Manhattan destroyed everything I had spent so long desperately clinging onto, and for what? Absolutely fucking nothing.
I lost everything in that one night – love, family, and my mind. Since then, I’ve lost more of myself, and it’s a downward spiral leading straight to rock bottom.
“Ciao, Bella!” he cries out his welcome, the Italian sounds phenomenal on his tongue.
I unravel from my inner desolation and look at Lorenzo.
“Buongiorno,” I say, not with as much excitement, but I see it no lessens the smile on his face.
“Bella, you’ve been in the pool too long,” he remarks as he throws a towel down onto one of the loungers. “I’ve asked for lunch to be made ready.”
I give a pitiful pout as I listen to him speak. He tries so hard, but his English remains broken and his translations aren’t on point, but for me, he speaks English all the time – much to my uncle’s dismay. He does it so I feel a little closer to home – and it works.
“Come to me,” he commands softly, sitting down onto the sun lounger.
I listen and push forward in the water, using my feet to propel me through the cool pool water toward the stairs. I keep my head above the water so as not to wet my hair and try to quickly make my way to him. If I’m leaving, I need to relish in what little he makes me feel. I leave the water to be lavished by the fierce heat from the summer sun and grab my towel before continuing toward him.
I catch him watching me as I dab the cotton towel over my scantily clad body and I smile timidly. I have tried my hardest to push Zane to the back of my mind – hell, even out of my mind – but he was the only man who ever truly looked at me with such predator instincts. Lorenzo brings about all these natural feelings, but when I allow myself to swim in them, I don’t think of Lorenzo. It’s always Zane I imagine touching me, kissing me, and fucking me.
He did a number over on me that I can’t come back from. He destroyed me in ways he’ll never know, which is why I keep Lorenzo around. He’s my guilty pleasure, my fuck buddy, even though I know it’s more to Lorenzo. He’s investing emotions in me when I refuse to.
He stands, approaching me with such a look of lust that my stomach flips and releases the butterflies. In doing so, I clamp the towel closer to my body, which only seems to elicit a smirk on Lorenzo’s handsome face.
“You won’t need this,” he comments, tearing the towel from my hands.
Slowly, Lorenzo forces me backwards, his hands caressing my hips as he guides me to a sun lounger and leans in. Inch by inch, I lower onto the bed as he continues to force me back. This time as his hands run up my body and as my back hits the padded pillow of the lounger, he’s towering over me like a stern, Italian god shrouded with bright sunlight.
My lips part, my breath becomes bated, and he lowers his lips to mine.
“Amelia!”
I cringe at the piercing sound of my name, breaking the moment down to nothing but awkward. I press my hand to his chest more and allow my head to lull to the side. Taking a steadying breath, I pull away, placate a smile on my face, and look at Lorenzo.
“I’ll be back,” I tell him, my tone light and airy. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Oh, I won’t, Bella,” he replies and finally moves from covering me with his body. He helps me stand, and I feel him sit down on the bed, lounging out as he does so.
I slip my black sandals on, grab my yellow sundress, and make the short walk. I reluctantly put the dress on and start to make my way up to the house. I wonder what in the hell my uncle could need with me between our conversation no more than ten minutes ago and now. I swear, the Abbiatis do not understand the term ‘day off.’
I make sure that I stomp my feet up the stone steps, showing my annoyance, but apparently it’s nothing to rival Alberto’s.
“Will you please stop treating my staff like sex pawns,” Alberto chides the moment I walk onto the veranda. He stands with his hands placed on the balcony railing, his body stiff as he looks out across the land and out to sea. “You’ve done nothing but distract Lorenzo the entire duration of your stay.”
“Can’t blame a girl from wanting a little fun,” I reply, tossing him a sickly sweet smile. “All work and no play is so deathly boring, Uncle! Lighten up a little.”
“No, it’s time for you to go and pack,” he comments, no other response.
“And what if I say no?” I ask him, crossing my arms over my chest.