Page 44 of Lorenzo

“It’s the ‘inferno’ part of our club. VIP access only. Specialized activities, too.”

When I dart away, he snatches me back.

“You arrived uninvited to my lunch club. And now you barge into my place of business. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. But now I’m going to have one of my men take you home. You are never to surprise me again, do you understand?”

Lorenzo half drags me outside the club. Then practically shoves me into the limousine.

The driver is Ernesto, of course.

He sets off into traffic without speaking a word.

Never was much of a talker.

When we reach The Circle Hotel, Ernesto opens the door for me and gruffly bids me a good night.

As I make my way to the apartment, I can’t decide if I made the right move tonight or not.

CHAPTER 19

EMILY

Iwake to the aroma of brewing coffee and the sound of absolute silence.

Even before I tear off my eye mask, I sense Lorenzo isn’t in the bedroom.

Maybe he never came home.

Then I prop myself up and look at his spot across from the perfectly intact pillow wall.

His sheets are thrown back, like he had to be somewhere in a hurry.

Or wanted to minimize any time he “had” to spend with me.

I press my hand flat against his side of the mattress.

It’s cold.

Yet the movement releases the faint cedar of his aftershave still hanging in the air above his pillow.

As I make the bed, I notice a Dante’s Inferno cocktail napkin on his nightstand.

Written on it is a woman’s name, written in a flowing purple script. The “i” in her first name dotted with a tiny heart.

I feel a jolt of jealousy.

Something in me tightens.

How ridiculous to feel this emotion.

I barely know Lorenzo.

I calm myself by asking why I should care if my fake, temporary husband’s seeing someone on the side?

It takes the pressure off me.

If Lorenzo has some girl at the ready whenever desire strikes, maybe I won’t have to erect the pillow wall any longer.

That way, I can finally throw my collection of “granny pants” in the trash where they belong.