Page 24 of Lorenzo

“Dante’s and Lorenzo’s cousin. You met her at the wedding. Wild black hair. Red lipstick. I asked her to come today and take you to the Equinox Fitness Center downstairs.”

“Oh, yes. Now I remember.”

“I would take you myself, but I’m supposed to take it easy until this little guy’s born.”

A moment later, the front door opens automatically. Angie struts her way toward us, wearing cherry-red exercise leggings and a cleavage-popping matching top.

“Hiya, Emily,” says Angie, walking toward me, giving me one of those double kisses this Italian family is so fond of.

Her long dangling gold earring nearly hits me in the face. “Recovered from your wedding night?” She asks with a wink.

I force a smile.

“Gina says you’re taking me to work out in the fitness club below. I’ve never taken a class in my life. And I don’t have exercise clothes.”

“Figured as much,” she says, reaching into her bag. “That’s why I brought you this.”

She hands me something hot pink wrapped in cellophane.

“What is this?”

“Your workout outfit. I bought it at the same time as I bought the one I’m wearing and haven’t worn it yet. We’re about the same size, though my boobs are bigger. Put it on.”

I look to Gina. She nods encouragingly.

“I can’t wear this in the elevator,” I say, looking at the handful of pink spandex. “Or the lobby. Everyone will stare.”

“Then change in the locker room. C’mon. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 10

LORENZO

“Hey man,” Max says, nodding as I push through the glass doors of the cycling studio.

It’s early Saturday morning, but the sleek Equinox sports club is already packed.

The bass hits me before anything else. Some kind of hard rock remix pumping through the speakers so loud I can feel it in my chest.

Looking around, I see the usual members in expensive gear waiting for class to begin. They adjust their handlebars while checking themselves out in the mirrored walls.

I high five Max before hopping onto my own bike. At the front of the class, our favorite instructor chats with a few guys minutes before class.

“Looks like those jokers think they have a shot with Molly,” Max huffs as he glares at the men surrounding her.

I see one of them has a hand braced on the handlebar of Molly’s bike, leaning in like he owns the place.

They’re all grinning at whatever she just said, but their eyes are firmly glued on her A+ ass.

“If you don’t get the nerve to ask her out, maybe they will,” I say to Max.

“Fuck you, Renzo,” he shoots back.

Max is one of two people who are allowed to use my nickname.

“There’s not a man in this club who has precedence over me.”

“Except me,” I laugh.