Page 38 of Lorenzo

“Good evening, Mr. Ricci,” the concierge says as I enter the airy lobby of The Circle Hotel.

I shoot him the friendly grin I reserve for favored staff, then keep moving.

It is odd to come home with the sun still out.

Yet given Manhattan Social’s breaking news about our marriage, I’m arriving home for dinner so that Emily and I can continue our ‘playing house’ charade.

Ciro’s in the kitchen when I enter, his back straight as usual as he slices vegetables. Biscotti, Gina’s French bulldog, lies at his heels.

Ah. Scene of domestic bliss.

“Good evening, sir. I’ve set a table on the terrace given the good weather,” he tells me.

“Fine,” I say as the aroma of whatever he’s prepared drifts over from the stove. “Where’s Mrs. Ricci?”

“In your library, sir.”

I stop. “My library? Why the hell did you allow her in there?”

“She didn’t ask, sir. I assumed you would not want me to stop your wife.”

Biscotti darts out from the kitchen, paws digging into the delicate silk of my trousers.

“Get away, mutt,” I mutter, even as I lift the Frenchie and give him a gruff hug.

I may talk tough when it comes to Biscotti, but he’s everything I wanted in a pup when I was a kid and wasn’t permitted to have.

Tucking him under my arm, I carry him down the hall.

The library door is closed.

My library door.

I stand there a moment with Biscotti squirming in my arms, taking in the thin line of light under the door.

Emily’s in there with someone. I can hear her talking.

What the hell?

Well, well.

The schoolmarm’s certainly made herself at home here.

And at this moment, she’s claimed the one room in this apartment that’s mine.

Daring.

Emily better be sitting on top of my desk with her legs spread to welcome me when I open that door.

Because that’s the only version of this I’m willing to forgive.

Just as I’m about to push the door open, her voice carries through the heavy wood, low and unhurried.

A second voice crackles through a speakerphone.

“To my point, on the surface Lorenzo looks and acts just like a Darcy,” I hear Emily saying.

What the fuck is a Darcy?