Chapter 18

MIA

I t was early evening when I shoved my bags and myself into my apartment.

I walked into dead silence.

No one was home.

The late afternoon sunshine cast golden rays through the windows, illuminating the dust that had gathered on every surface. I sighed, dropping my luggage and slumping against the door.

This place was a far cry from Lorenzo's luxurious mansion, but it was my refuge, my solace from the chaos and heartache that had been churning in me since I left him.

I shuffled to the kitchen, flipping on the lights and scanning the bare counters to find something to eat. My stomach growled in protest, reminding me I hadn't eaten in hours.

Rummaging through the cabinets, I unearthed an ancient box of mac and cheese and a can of tuna.

I sighed, a whisper of disappointment escaping me. It wasn't the gourmet meal I'd have prepared in his modern kitchen, but it would have to do.

While the water boiled, I rummaged for a glass of wine to give my meagre fare some oomph and ease the tight tension within me.

With a sigh, I found only empty bottles in the trash.

‘Dammit!' I mumbled to no one in particular.

I considered ordering in, then, thinking about the bar at the corner, where I'd find a fair meal, small-format wines, and warm bodies for distant company.

Turning off the boiling kettle, I dragged back on my shoes, nabbed my tote bag and lit out.

Outside, the streets were still busy with people going home from work, the sun setting in a golden haze. I pulled up the hood of my thin crop sweatshirt, wishing I had something warmer to wear, and set off towards the pub.

The air was crisp, and I breathed in, trying to clear my mind of the argument and the sorrow still swirling in me.

The place was a refuge where I might disappear into the crowd for a little while—at least, that's what I hoped.

I cracked open the door and stepped inside. The warmth and scents of hoppy beer, whisky, and fried food enveloped me.

The place was dark-lit yet bustling with patrons, chatting and drinking, oblivious to my turmoil.

I squeezed through the throng to the wooden bar scarred by age, thousands of bottle scourges and soaked with years of spirits.

Working around a group of giggling girls, I leaned onto the counter and spotted a familiar face behind it.

Spencer, the barman and owner that Linda had introduced me to once, was a friendly sandy-haired man with a quick wit and a perpetual twinkle in his eye.

‘Hey, Mia,' he greeted, peppy and happy as always. ‘What'll it be?'

‘Just a glass of wine, please,' I replied, leaning on the counter. ‘Your pick.'

He was a connoisseur; his pours had been ‘chef's kiss' so far.

He opened a new bottle with a flourish and presented me with a moody, ruby-red Cabernet Merlot, which matched my mood.

‘Thank you,' I said, indulging in a grateful sip. The warmth of the alcohol spread through me, taking the edge off my nerves.

‘Spence, I'll also have your Mighty Hot Burger Special.'

‘Spicy patty, loaded fries, side of salad, got it,' he grinned.

With a nod, I found a corner booth and sat down, nursing my drink and trying to make sense of the past few hours.

I took a few big swallows of my wine to drown my sorrows, but not even its buzz lifted my spirits.

My food arrived, and I chewed on a fry absentmindedly, mulling over Lorenzo.

All my mind replayed was our heated lovers' quarrel and how much it hurt.

‘Hell,' I cursed, irritated that I was pining for the man whose possessiveness set my teeth on edge.

A voice broke through my reverie. ‘What's a gorgeous girl like you cursing alone in a bar like this?'

I glanced up to tag a sketchy, surfer-type himbo grinning at me.

He had a friend with him who was also cut out of a similar mould - sun-kissed, with a bronzed complexion and salt-white greasy locks, with a sleazy grin that made my skin crawl.

They exuded the charm of washed-up beach boys with bleached mullets, eshay moustaches and perpetual smirks. I bet they favoured gaudy sports brands and electronic dance music, not that there was anything wrong with the subculture.

It just wasn't my jam.

In return, I bestowed them an uneasy smile, trying on a cloak of disinterest.

‘I'm enjoying a solo night, guys,' I replied, eager to dissuade them.

They both laughed, disregarding my pointed dismissal.

The first surfer guy leaned in closer. ‘You seem a tad down on your feelings, beautiful. We're the best remedy for it.'

He eyed me, waggling his brows. ‘How about joining us for a few drinks?'

I lifted my hand with a slight wave. ‘No, I'm good. I want a quiet one tonight,' I said, hoping to deter them and that they'd receive the message and leave me alone.

But they didn't appear to take the hint.

‘You seem to need a friend,' the sketchy one continued, sliding onto the bench beside me. ‘My bud and me, we're the best listeners. We'll keep your secrets.'

I eyed them with a wary side-eye, sensing their ulterior motives. They were after more than just a conversation, and I wasn't interested.

‘I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll pass,' I murmured.

When he slid a hand behind my head along the banquette, I froze away from him.

‘Hey,' he protested.

That's when his mate, standing across from me, locked limbs.

His eyes were trained somewhere to the rear of us.

I smelt the smoky essence first and was inundated with dread, tensing for what was about to come.

Seconds later, a deep, rumbled voice confirmed what I'd feared.

‘Clown 1 and 2, get the fuck out of here.'

The growl brooked no argument.

I twisted around with a huff to see Lorenzo looming over my table, eyes flashing, hands crossed, unyielding, glowering and like hell frozen over.

The two surfers stared at him for a moment, their smiles faltering.

‘You know him?' the himbo muttered to me.

‘She's my wife,' Lorenzo snarled.

I let out a slow, irritated breath. ‘Hell.'

‘One more glance in her direction and e sei morto,' Lorenzo added with amped ill-omen.

By now, Mauri and his brooding menace had joined the party, and together, they scowled over us like a pair of Italian gods of retribution.

Lorenzo's meaning was clear, and the message was received with ire.

The surfer bros got up and slunk out, shooting daggers at him as they went.

Lorenzo turned his head to me, his icy glare locked on me. His arms crossed, a storm of emotions churned in his eyes.

I decided to ignore him, stratospherically pissed off.

Still, his hot stare stayed on me. I sensed him move, sliding his beautiful frame into the booth across from me.

He whispered to Mauri, who stalked to the bar.

Minutes later, his consigliere placed a second top-up of the wine I'd been drinking on the table and furnished Lorenzo with the same before stepping back into the shadows, eyes on us both.

I huffed, sucked my teeth and bristled.

With an inhale, I pulled a book out of my tote, a romance suspense series whose author I was a major fan of and pretended to read.

The silence between us was heavy and charged, every moment torturous, yet Lorenzo persisted with his silent warfare.

He dominated the space across from me, head back, arms spreadeagled, one thick thigh crossed over his knee, sipping his wine. His eyes only left me to death stare at anyone passing by who dared glance my way.

His insistent presence was suffocating, but I refused to acknowledge it.

For a while, we sat in our self-imposed impasse in a battle of wills, serenaded by the occasional clink of glasses and the murmur of the crowd around us.

The strain across the table ratcheted as my mind seethed with dark thoughts. I couldn't forgive him for accusing me of betrayal, but I didn't want to keep fighting.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, taking an exasperated and nailing his smoulder with a stern glance.

‘Your wife?' I threw at him. ‘I'm not your freakin' wife. Why would you say I am your wife?'

His lips curled. ‘You're the one who keeps repeating it, and I've learnt never to interrupt my woman when she's voicing what she wants.'

‘Of all the arrogant, self-indulgent, full of shit statements you've ever made -.' I spluttered, unable to say more.

He arched a brow and smirked. ‘There's truth to it, no, bella?'

I flushed under my skin, hating how the word warmed me. Still, I refused to give him any satisfaction and scowled. There was also no reasoning with him on this topic, so I changed tack.

‘What the hell do you want, Lorenzo?' I spat, slamming my book shut with a force that shuddered the table.

He let out a gruff and resonant laugh, gazing at me with a smugness that had my blood boiling.

‘I want you where I can see you, Mia bella,' he rasped.

‘You want me to obey without question,' I threw back. ‘I can't stand your bullheaded assumptions and distrust; it's unacceptable,' I retorted, shaking with anger. ‘It's not what I signed up for. You accused me of cheating, so why show up here like this? What are you even doing, sitting here?'

He leaned in closer, his eyes flashing with fury and passion. ‘I won't let any more assholes anywhere near you,' he growled, a possessive edge to his rumble. ‘And I'm not moving until we resolve this.'

Fuck, he was pushy.

‘You don't decide who I spend time with, Lorenzo,' I shot back, my voice edged with annoyance. ‘You also can't stalk me whenever you please or save me like some knight in shining armour. I'm no damsel in distress.'

He shook his head, a hint of frustration crossing his face. ‘Non mi rompere le scatole.'

‘What does that even fucking mean?'

‘Don't break my boxes, bella. It means you're getting on my nerves, and you need to stop annoying me with your stubbornness. I'm not trying to be a hero, Mia, but you're better off keeping to my wishes.'

I snorted, disbelief etched on my face. ‘Oh, right, because you've been such a paragon of trust and stability so far?'

His eyes flashed, a storm of emotions churning. ‘Mia, I am a possessive man, and I don't like you bringing strange men into my house, regardless of whether they're friends.'

‘And I don't like your alpha, controlling ass. Feel free to feed your ego on your own time because if that's your preferred stance with me, I'm busy. Where does that leave us?'

He sliced his eyes away for a moment, a furrow creasing his brow.

His eyes were filled with exasperation when he turned back at me. ‘So, I lost my temper, and I got jealous. That's because you are mine, and I won't let you go or let anyone else have you.'

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves.

While Lorenzo's claim was sweet and mind-blowing in how much it touched me, it was still control wrapped up in charm.

‘You can't just show up here and try to push me around like you own me, Lorenzo,' I argued, my voice rising. ‘I'm my own woman. You don't have the right to tell me who I can or cannot be with.'

He huffed a dark rumble that sent shivers down my spine. ‘It's not about control, Mia. It's about keeping you safe. You've no idea what the men after me are capable of, and I won't let them hurt you.'

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. ‘I've been living on my own for years, Lorenzo. I can take care of myself.'

He leaned back in his seat, staring at me with an intensity that made my heart pound. ‘You're right. You have been on your own for years. But you've never had a man love on you, watch out for you, someone who had your back, who would do anything to protect you. And now you do. I'm that man, Mia. Whether you like it or not, I'm here to stay.'

He was still jacked up with tension, from his heaving chest to his clenched fists, but his eyes softened when he raked his eyes over me again. ‘I know this is hard for you, but given the threat from credible sources, you need to be where I can have a close eye until I have a protection unit I can keep on you, bella,' he said in a softer rasp. ‘Am I clear?'

Our eyes locked, and we waged a wild war for a few moments before I dragged my gaze from him, trying to find sense. I found it soon enough.

He cared about me, plain and simple. While pushy and savage in his desire to protect me, it touched me.

I still refused to forgive him for his boorish, Neanderthal behaviour.

I whipped my head to face him once again. ‘It'll be clearer if you apologise.'

‘I won't,' he grated. ‘If I say sorry, I'll be admitting I was wrong to watch out for you. I fucking won't concede how much I adore you, and I must shield you.'

‘No, Lorenzo,' I shot back. ‘Apologising is not about me discarding your logic about keeping me safe. It's about acknowledging and responding to my pain when you made your heat-of-the-moment accusation, regardless of how guilty or innocent you feel in this mess. Stop justifying the situation, making excuses or granting yourself a ‘get out of jail free' card.'

He sucked his teeth, eyes flashing at the schooling and reaming I was giving him.

I tagged the battle of wills raging in him until he sighed, eyes gentling. ‘I'm sorry, bella, for hurting you.'

I inhaled and sliced my eyes from him briefly before returning them. ‘You're not forgiven yet. But, I'll come with you.'

‘Grazie a Dio,' he growled, relief on his face.

After a beat, he went on. ‘Mia, my world is dangerous, and I can't take any chances. I need to know who's in your life and why. I can't protect you if I don't know what's happening.'

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. ‘I get it. But Tony is just a friend. Nothing more.'

Lorenzo gave a slow nod, still gazing at me with keen intention. ‘Si, but you have to promise you'll be honest. You cannot have anyone else walk into this house without my permission. What if he'd been under duress from our enemies? Or worse still if they'd have muscled in after him to get to you? The people after me are ruthless, and I can't have you underplaying that fact and putting us all in danger.'

‘I didn't ask for this,' I whispered.

‘Neither did I,' Lorenzo shot back.

Silence fell into a shattered cavern of trust that had eroded before us.

How had we gone from making incandescent love all night to this tense, ugly standoff? It was like we'd been flung into a different reality, where faith was an illusion and every interaction was a battle. But there was no denying the truth of our situation. I was no one's fool and understood why he was so protective.

I took a deep breath and glanced at Lorenzo, trying to find some semblance of the man I had lost myself in ecstasy to.

He sliced his eyes from me and nodded to Mauri, who swivelled and walked out of the bar, presumably to fetch the car.

‘Let's go, Mia.'

I gave Lorenzo a long glare, drained the last of my wine and rose, nabbing my bag.

While I did, he prowled to the bar and paid my tab.

I tagged his generous green note tip to Spencer before he tracked back to me, gesturing the way out. ‘After you.'

The heat of his freakin' sexy body radiated through me as we wound our way out of the bar.

He pushed the swing door open, leading me with a gentle touch of my arm towards a sleek black car idling at the curb.

I got in with a sigh and was immediately enveloped in leather, cologne, and the essence of the cheroot he smoked.

Damn, but it smelt like coming home.

He slid beside me, nodded to Mauri, and we pulled away.

We made a quick stop at my apartment to pick up my discarded bags.

Lorenzo accompanied me inside, and like earlier, the place was deserted, with no sign of Linda.

I grabbed my things and locked up again, easing back into the waiting limousine sedan.

Mauri drove off, and we went back to Lorenzo's house in silence.

I sloped my head on the seat rest, succumbing to the pull of sleep after a long day of strain and angst.

Before I fell into blissful slumber, I grudgingly admitted to myself that the only rationale I had for being so relaxed now was the man beside me, who'd fast become my reason for breathing.

LORENZO

I messed up. I blew it.

I deserved every glare and scowl Mia had sent me this evening, her eyes seething with disappointment and hurt.

As I carried her sleeping form from my car to my room, guilt washed over me.

To win her trust back, I had to endure the discomfort that would undoubtedly linger as she worked through her anger at me.

Laying her on the bed, I huffed, heart melting as she snuggled into the pillows.

I crouched, staring at her, yearning for her yet aware she'd flung a barrier between us.

Cazzo, I had caused this divide.

The vulnerability in her now peaceful expression tugged at my heart, making me ache to make things right. I reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, the softness of her skin stirring longing and regret under my touch.

Lost in the room's silence, I conceded that an apology alone would not be enough to mend what had been broken.

Words had failed before, leading us to this turbulent dance of push and pull. If I wanted to show Mia what she meant to me and how much I cared, I needed to prove it through actions, unwavering support and understanding.

‘I'm sorry, bella,' I whispered. ‘I'll make it right, I promise.'

With a heavy sigh, I stood up and tracked to my bathroom, needing some distance to clear my mind and work out how to bridge the gap between us.

I took a long, hot shower, letting the heated water beat me down and wash away my regret, hit with hurt for what I had done to Mia and an urgency to mend the twisted and torn bridge between us if I wanted to move forward.

I couldn't just sweep our argument under the rug. I had to communicate with her. To show her I was committed to being the man she needed me to be.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and returned to the bedroom.

I found Mia still fast asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed. I stared at her for a moment, taking in her serene expression.

With tender care, I dropped my towel and eased in beside her.

In an instant, she slid to me, seeking my touch even in sleep.

I wrapped my arms around her as she whispered under her breath. ‘Lorenzo.'

Fuck, her name on my lips made me ache.

A touch of jubilance lifted my haunting despair because even though she'd put me in my place, I was in the embrace of my queen, and she was in mine.

I closed my eyes and drifted off, vowing to wake a better man, corrected by love.