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Judging by the looks in the room, the other women felt the same.
A pang of jealousy shot through me, but I squashed it.
I wasn’t going to be possessive over Lorenzo. I’d chosen not to have contact with him. I would man up and fucking mean it.
Lorenzo started with his presentation. He explained what every wine was, and waiters moved through the crowds with silver trays, distributing whatever wine he discussed so we could sniff and swirl and taste along.
Listening to Lorenzo speak was mesmerizing. He knew what he was talking about. I’d thought I was a connoisseur when it came to wine, but he was on a whole new level.
Everyone in this room would buy at least one bottle of each, not because the wine was so good—which it was—but because Lorenzo had a way of making each bottle sound magical.
The magic would be gone when the customers drank the same wine at home, but the bottles would have been paid for and successful sales made.
I just had to be impressed.
When the presentation was over, and we were all a little tipsy and a little in love with Lorenzo, the background music started, and the guests mingled again. Anna ran around, making sure everything went according to plan. I stood to the side, looking at the people who were talking to each other. They had all had plastic surgery, so much so that I was sure none of them looked the way they used to, and everything was about flashing their money, showing off how much they had.
I was used to money, I’d grown up in a house where my title and my bank account preceded me, but I wasn’t in the habit of selling myself the way these people did.
It was a very different crowd.
Lorenzo came to me, walking through the crowd. The women he passed all stared at him, fawning at his feet, but his eyes were locked on mine. My stomach turned and butterflies erupted.
Stop it.
I wore my poker face. He wouldn’t know my reaction to him.
“Celine,” he said with a smile charming enough to make me melt into my perfect heels, “I didn’t know you were on the guest list.”
“I was a walk-in.”
Lorenzo laughed, and his smooth, velvety voice caressed my skin so that I shivered. He touched my elbow. The contact was small but electricity ran through my body.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“I didn’t know you could say so much about wine,” I said. “Very interesting.”
“I think so, too. Winemaking is an art, combining flavors into an elixir from the gods.”
I smiled. “You’re very passionate about wine. I remember you wanting to get away from it once.”
Lorenzo shrugged and pushed his hands into his pockets. It was supposed to be a casual gesture, but it pulled open his shirt a little, and the bronze skin made me want to lick it.
“Things change. We grow up.”
“We do,” I agreed. We were very different people from who we’d been in college.
“Let me take you out,” Lorenzo said.
The request was out of the blue, catching me off guard. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” My response was smooth as if I’d expected it.
“Why?”
“You know what happens when we’re together.”
“Is it a bad thing?”
“We’re not kids anymore, Lorenzo. I want different things now.”
