Page 94 of Lorenzo

But I can’t let go. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what I said. He’s been ‘dealt with.’ Do not ask about this again. Now let’s speak of more pleasant things,” he says, taking my hand.

I let Lorenzo keep hold of my hand, but even as he does my thoughts continue to race. Even though Lorenzo says I’m not responsible, I am. Of course I am.

How careless of me to just tie Biscotti’s leash around the leg of my chair, while I turned my attention to my phone.

“Emily, did you hear me?” I hear Lorenzo saying. I had been too preoccupied with self-reprimands to hear.

“Sorry,” I say. “Can you repeat that?”

“What would you say about getting out of Manhattan for a few days?”

“Now? With Biscotti in such an unstable position?

“You heard the vet. He’ll be fine. It would be good for you to get away.”

“Well, if you’d like to, and since Biscotti will be okay. Yes. That could be nice. Where would we go?”

“The Berkshires. I know how much you miss Teddy and want to visit him. I’ve planned the trip so we can stop by the academy where Teddy goes to school. Then we’ll celebrate your 21st birthday in style in one of those historic castle-like hotels. “

Lorenzo pauses to check my reaction.

“Maybe we can even check out the Renaissance Faire this weekend at the old strawberry farm.”

My eyes widen. “First, how did you know it’s my birthday? And how did you know I wanted to visit Teddy⁠—?”

Lorenzo puts his fingers on my lower lip.

“No questions. Allow me to do this for you.”

I look at Lorenzo, amazed that he’s given so much thought to my birthday and desire to see Teddy.

“Well,” I say, running my little finger down the center of his palm. “Since you’re twisting my arm like that, I might say yes.”

He rises. “Good. It’s all set. All you have to do is be ready to leave at nine tomorrow morning. You think that’s possible?”

“I think so.”

CHAPTER 42

LORENZO

It feels good to get behind the wheel of a car again.

The blood-red Ferrari drives at the speed of light. With the top down, the warm, pine-scented air hits my face in the most pleasant way possible.

Emily sits beside me, her auburn hair pinned up under a scarf that snaps and ripples at its loose edges.

She turns to me every so often and smiles. She’s clearly enjoying all ‘the feels’ of driving fast down a deserted road in the sunshine.

“You drive like some Formula 1 rock god,” says Emily, raising her voice over the wind. A loose end of her scarf snaps against her cheek.

“And I fuck like one too,” I say, pressing on the gas.

Emily flushes and says nothing. Yet I know her well enough to guess she’s tingling all over with the need to release.

I ache to reach over and put my right hand right in her pussy.