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“May I be excused?”
“Liz, I’m sorry.” My brother apologized. “I—”
“Luc, it’s not you, I swear. Oh G—mmIiii have to be excused.”
Vincenzo lifted his hand, pulling my chair back as I hurried out of the room, down the back hall, ducking into the bathroom, and shutting the door. I heard my parents both scolding my brother as I left and felt terrible, but I was seconds from cumming while still hurt about what had happened. Back against the door, I slinked down to the floor.
A soft tapping on the other side came moments later. “Lizzie, it’s me.” Vincenzo’s muffled voice announced his menacing presence. “Can I come in?”
“Uh.” I stood, turning the doorknob.
He cracked it open. “We need to talk.”
“What about them?” I hissed, craning my neck toward my family.
“I told them we’d bonded since you had been working for me and I might be able to help with whatever they think you’re upset about.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist. “Go change clothes.”
“Why?” I leaned the side of my head on the wall.
“I told them I’m taking you out for coffee.”
Swallowing my pride, I arched a brow, marching to my room as if nothing had happened. I stood in the middle of my enormous closet, a little too long, wondering what I should wear. Even with the amount of clothes I had, nothing seemed good enough. Though I wasn’t sure why it mattered. He made it clear he wasn’t interested. Finally, I settled on a fitted champagne tank top and a black miniskirt. I slipped it over my dry bikini and scooted on a pair of designer sandals. My hair was a complete mess. Flipping my head over, I gathered it, tying it into a messy bun.
“That’ll have to do.” I huffed at my reflection before snatching up my favorite Louis Vuitton handbag off the chair and skipping back downstairs, keeping the unbothered façade.
Vincenzo was leaning on the wall next to the door, stroking his chin as he peered up at me.
“Where are my parents?”
He lifted his chin toward another room. “Lecturing Lucas about his outburst.”
I snickered. “Poor Luc.”
Vincenzo opened the door, extending his hand. I stepped in front of him, striding straight to his car, reminding myself why I was upset. He placed his hand on my lower back as he remote-started it and opened the passenger door. I slid in, then buckled my seatbelt, darting my eyes around his car in disgust.I wonder if that woman’s been in here.
The driver’s door opened moments later, and he got in, pulling his own seatbelt across his chest. He drove in silence until we were on the main road. I watched out the window, trying my best not to inhale his cologne. Once again, I was failing.
He laid his palm on my upper leg, startling me. “I know what it looked like.”
“What are you talking about?” I refused to look at him or acknowledge this afternoon.
“Lizzie.” Clenching his teeth, his grip tightened on my thigh. “I fucking hate games.”
It was then I realized we would not be getting coffee. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere we won’t get caught. I don’t want to risk taking you back to my house right now. Sit back and relax.”
“Lizzie.”
“What?!” My eyes shot open, and I sat up straight.
“I see some things never change,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What are you talking about?” Wide eyed, I stared out the window. On one side, the ocean. On the other, the brightly lit buildings of Atlantic City.
“You’ve always fallen asleep on road trips.”
“What are we doing in AC?”
