Page 40 of Lorenzo

“Chivalrous,” she notes, peeking up at me under her long lashes I somehow hadn’t noticed before.

“Not by nature,” I say with a grin.

Though gossip rags like Manhattan Social often refer to me as ‘Lorenzo the charmer’ or more frequently, ‘Lorenzo the Lady Killer.’ I’ve never been one to treat women with kid gloves.

Most of the women I date are temporary.

They serve one purpose.

And one purpose only.

Ciro appears with two martinis.

“I don’t drink,” Emily says when he puts it in front of her.

“You will tonight, schoolmarm.”

“I’m not a teacher. Why did you call me that?”

“It fits you.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she says. “But why do I need to drink this martini?”

“The way I figure it, there are only two ways to loosen you up. One’s a martini.”

“And the other?”

Fuck. She asks this in total seriousness.

Just then Ciro walks in with our dinner.

He sets the silver-domed trays gently onto the table, a waiter’s grace in every movement. Then he disappears back inside, Biscotti trailing him at soldierly attention.

I try to make charming conversation, but it’s a struggle. I hardly know this woman.

When the meal finally ends, I look at my watch.

“This was pleasant. And now,” I say, standing. “I’m going to the club.”

“Excellent. I’d love to go with you. I read so much about it in Manhattan Social.”

The schoolmarm knows Manhattan Social?

“This is work. Not pleasure,” I say, more gruffly than I meant.

As I head out the door, I realize dinner was a mistake.

Ignoring that stupid Manhattan Social leak would have been the way to go.

Pretending we’re really married to conform to expectations was wrong.

The sooner Emily realizes it’s just business between us, the better. Just then, my phone rings.

“It’s Max,” he says. “Trouble at the club.”

CHAPTER 18

EMILY