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I walk to the window and watch as the sky darkens, the lights of Vegas twinkle, and sin city comes alive. An adult’s paradise lays at the feet of anyone who wants to come and play. A place for romantics to run away and get married on a moment’s notice. The large Ferris wheel is lit up in the distance, going so slow that you can’t tell it’s even moving at all.
It reminds me of something I saw through the binoculars at the graveyard. A rodent that flew over the desert floor as the crowd was gathering at the cemetery.
A piece of symbolism that shouldn’t be forgotten. I add a few sentences to my article, pleased with the addition, and save it for Lorenzo. But I need a release for all these pent-up emotions. I pull up the personal version of the article saved to my journal app and meant for me alone, intending to add some anger-fueled words about mafia families in general.
I stare at the sign-on page in disbelief. The time stamp on the computer tells me everything I need to know. There’s no way possible that I could have been in the shower and accessing my fucking document at the very same time. Shame on me for leaving it open; shame on him for reading what was never intended for his eyes.
My mind swirls with every dirty word in the book that I can throw at him. The fact that he read something so emotionally charged not meant for his eyes infuriates me even further.
I find it difficult to believe that he thought my personal thoughts and feelings were his very own to read. I swallow down a tinge of fear, maybe of him but most definitely of the unknown, of how he’ll react to knowing exactly how I feel.
The sound of the door causes me to look in that direction and try to calm the beating of my heart.
Lorenzo stands in the frame, his six-foot stature taking up every bit of space between me and the hall. His dark eyes bore straight through my own but then rake over my body like hot coals, heating my skin with their intensity.
“Turn around, Bella,” he instructs in that dark husky voice that sends goosebumps trailing over my arms.
I suck in a breath and turn, inch by inch, letting him see the bare back, the short fall of the dress, and what he’ll no longer have after tonight.
“You are undoubtedly the most magnificent creature on earth,” the dark-eyed devil says, closing the door and the distance between us. His hand snakes around my nape and traces a finger down the length of my exposed back. “This little red dress should be a sin. It makes me want to ravage you against that wall instead of taking you to dinner.”
I smile up at him, at least I hope it’s a smile, because right now my heart is beating so hard that I can barely breathe. Fear of the unknown, of him, mingled with the deep-seated desire that I shouldn’t feel for the monster who stands in front of me.
At least going to dinner gives us a reason to leave, to be amongst other guests, and a chance to show him and everyone in that room that I know exactly who and what he is and for him and his family to see it splashed across every entertainment page around the globe.
“Dinner sounds lovely,” I tell him.
Game on…
“I just need to grab my purse,” I tell him.
He nods and answers a call while I make my way into the bedroom. I grab one of my larger bags. It’s too big to really look stylish with this dress, but the color matches and won’t be too obvious. I grab a pair of leggings, low profile tennies, and a long-sleeve shirt, rolling them as tight and as fast as I can, but the sound of his shoes on the tile floor makes me toss them to the other side of the bed and change my plans.
He walks in just as I feel the bottom of my smaller purse to double check everything is still where I left it. “Just want to grab a lipstick, and then I’ll be set to go,” I tell him, walking into the bathroom and grabbing the one I used while getting ready.
Lorenzo seems as deep in thought as I as he escorts me to the elevator and to one of the many restaurants in the resort and casino. “I thought we’d have traditional Italian tonight,” he says.
“Probably a good choice. I’m almost two glasses of red in, despite my intentions of waiting for sustenance,” I tell him as we walk over the fine tiles of the resort halls to the restaurant that plays soft Italian music as we enter.
The hostess greets us the minute she sees us. “Please come this way,” she says, guiding us to a table in the back of the restaurant with room enough for four.
“I’ll have someone bring you the usual to start,” she says to Lorenzo as he holds one of the old-world style wooden chairs for me to take a seat. He pours me a glass of water, and the server looks flustered as he arrives at the table. “Sir, I’m happy to pour for the both of you,” he says.
Lorenzo smiles at the older man. “I’ve got it well under control. How’s the family?” he asks, pouring a glass for himself as the gentleman opens a bottle of wine and pours a taste for Lorenzo. He swirls it and smells the bouquet and reaches across the table to place it under my nose. I inhale deeply, the fragrance soothing me already. “Very nice,” I tell him.
“Perfect selection,” he says to the man who then pours us each a glass of wine. I take a few sips, and soon a warm tomato basil soup is served. “It’s one of my favorites. The small chunks the chef leaves remind me of my aunt in her kitchen,” Lorenzo says as we eat our soup.
Neither wants to be the first to say anything, to burst what could have been, but there are things that need to be said. I wipe my mouth and dip into my purse to replace my lipstick, spinning it absently between my fingers while deciding exactly what to say that will get my point across without getting me killed.
Chapter21
Lorenzo
Isabella looksat me as though any minute I might whisper more truths than I’ve already told her about my family. Or that I don’t know the little lipstick she carries around takes pictures of me as we dine.
More for her already growing library of images and due to my complete lack of control where this woman is concerned, things that I have let her see and personally divulged. I swirl my glass, waiting for her to start the conversation, curious to see where she wants this to go.
Isabella looks at me with bright blue eyes over her glass. My chest tightens with just how beautiful she is and what I thought we could be. Why after all these years of seeing woman after woman try to use the Larussio men for what it would gain them I didn’t see it in her. Perhaps the signs were always there. She never hid her desire to expose all of our secrets for money. Maybe she is the honest one in this relationship. Maybe it was me who was trying to make her into something I wanted her to be.
