Chapter 6

LORENZO

M orning broke with a harsh light that sliced through the curtains, casting stark shadows across my hotel room.

As I steeled myself for yet another day of consultations and mindless obligations, my mind drifted back to Mia and the necklace I had entrusted to Mauri.

I hadn't seen him last night at dinner. I wondered if he'd tracked her down, even as meetings passed in a blur of faces and voices, each interaction ringing hollow in my ears.

Many of my catch-ups were with lawyers and financial advisers who were exploring a restructuring of the Calibrese family business.

Hours were spent in stuffy conference rooms filled with stern-faced men in tailored suits flipping through chunky piles of legal documents. The monetary experts sat beside them, their brows furrowed as they scrutinised charts and graphs.

The air was thick with the scent of fresh coffee, surrounded by the buzzing energy of intellect, mapping out the future of our future.

I dialled in my brothers over video calls. Our meetings became a clash of sharp wit, calculated planning, and brainstormed strategies to help us make a clean break from all our previous illicit business.

My brothers, my team, and I were crafting a plan to shape our futures for our families, perhaps even our wives and children.

It was the ultimate act of faith, believing in what was yet to come to ensure the security and safety of those we would one day love and cherish.

However, after each day, the high of gruelling negotiations and deals fell away. Replaced by a deep-seated loneliness as darkness knocked at the door of my soul.

I spent my evenings on the expansive balcony of my hotel room, lost in thought.

I avoided meals in the hotel bar and restaurants, forlorn in these crowded spaces.

Each night was a repeat of the same and on the last evening of my Sydney stay, after our consults were wrapped up, I paced alone in my room.

The city's bright lights and passing traffic painted patterns on the walls as I poured a whisky and sank into an armchair.

All that played in my head was the future I desired.

The more I thought of it, the more Mia's stunning almond-shaped and violet eyes came to mind.

I ran a hand over my lips, thinking of the soft curve of her mouth—the way it lifted into a beguiling smile that melted away any worry.

I recalled the smattering of freckles across her cheeks, aching to bend and kiss each enchanting and irresistible one.

She was consuming my every thought, and I cursed, hating how I was pining away like a teenage boy.

The internal battle raged on, a storm of churning emotion taking over me. I despised myself for succumbing to vulnerable longing, aching for something beyond my control, feeling for her, a woman I'd only met for barely half an hour.

Mauri had promised to track her down and deliver the necklace, but a nagging doubt gnawed at me. What if he hadn't found her?

Just then, a soft chime announced someone at my hotel door.

I strode to the door and checked the security display.

Mauri .

He turned when I yanked the door open, his impassive face neutral as always as he lifted a chin. ‘Boss,' he greeted me.

I wasted no time on pleasantries. ‘Any luck?' I grunted.

Mauri's brow quirked. ‘You realise I always get the job done? I did as asked and got the clasp repaired. I found a box for it at the jeweller's and tracked her down at her mountain cottage. I also delivered the gift hamper.'

‘What did she say?'

He gave me an enigmatic glance and pulled an item from his jacket. ‘She told me to give you this.'

An envelope in rose gold.

I took it, frowning and ran a finger under the lip to slit it open.

The feminine and floral scent of musk and white amber flooded my nostrils.

The same she'd worn on her skin when I'd last seen her.

Blood rushed to my pelvis, my body thrumming.

Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper, folded in half. I unfolded it with care, eyes scanning the elegant handwriting gracing the page. It read:

‘Thank you for returning what I thought was lost forever. I appreciate your gesture and the effort you put into finding me. You went above and beyond, and I am touched and grateful. Please know that I will treasure the necklace even more now, imbued with the memory of our fleeting meeting. Perhaps our paths will cross again someday, under different circumstances. Until then - Mia.'

My heart clenched, and my lips tightened at the brief yet profound and heartfelt message.

Mauri witnessed my reaction with his usual stoicism, waiting for further instructions.

‘Grazie,' I rasped, unwilling to say more.

He reminded me, ‘Six a.m. tomorrow for our flight back to Italy at 9 a.m.'

‘Si,' I gave him an absent-minded nod. ‘I'll be ready.'

He nodded and tracked away, and I was left alone.

Moving back into the room, I stroked my hand over the thick stock of the letter and drew in the soaked-in scent again, inundated with a reluctance to leave.

Longing hit hard, and I was flooded with such untamed desire that I growled, realising how much Mia's note stirred something profound within me.

I felt a yearning, need, and savage hope that I couldn't quite articulate. It tugged at something inside me that I hadn't set free in years.

I went to sleep with the envelope on the pillow beside me, her perfume soothing me to sleep.

Still, the night passed with fragmented dreams and restless thoughts.

When morning came, I woke groggy and heart aching.

Still, as I dragged myself into the shower, readied to leave and packed my bags, Mia's presence lingered in the corners of my mind, refusing to let go.

The plane took off, carrying Mauri and me away from Sydney and towards Naples.

Outside the private plane's windows, the world blurred beneath me.

I saw none of it. Lost in introspection, I reached for her letter from my jacket and reread it, bringing it to my nose to breathe her essence.

The scent of musk and white amber still clung to the thick parchment, transporting me into a cocoon of a single memory: seated with Mia on the terrace, her essence haunting me long from so many millions of miles away.

I replayed each moment; Mia's eyes filled with sadness yet also with their intensity burning into my spirit.

I tucked the paper, envelope and all into my left suit pocket, next to my cheroot case.

The hours slipped away as our flight swung over Turkey and into European skies unnoticed.

Hours passed in a haze, mirroring the growing ache inside me.

By the time we landed in Naples, I was certain of one thing: I wanted Mia.

I'd dated and bedded beauty.

But fuck, I'd never experienced such a pull to one woman.

I needed all of her: body, mind, soul, spirit. Every part of her.

As our car rumbled towards my villa, I pledged an oath to myself.

She was going to be mine.

I was a man of oaths, and hell, this was the most important I'd made so far.

Lips twisting as I committed to my pledge, I leaned and tapped on Mauri's shoulder who was riding shotgun alongside one of our Neapolitan capos, Enzo.

‘Can you please contact Bianca's lawyer in Sydney? Ask him to start shopping around for a house that meets our standards. I might need it in the next few months.'

His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, glinting with a reaction I couldn't place. Then he jerked his chin at me. ‘Consider it done, padrone.'

MIA

Over the next few weeks, memories of Lorenzo possessed me.

He preoccupied my waking hours.

I kept replaying his sensual body, his lips, his hands, those freaking bedroom eyes.

Oh, his touch.

The way his fingers had traced the curve of my neck and his lips grazed my cheek, leaving a trail of fire that had seared me to the core.

Other times, I remembered the tenderness of his smile on his sensual mouth from our time on Bianca's terrace.

At times, the echoes of his voice, a seductive rumble, would send shivers down my spine as if he were with me, whispering in my ear.

While haunting my daydreams, he was also ghosting into my night reveries.

He had become my incubus, the silhouette that flitted into my dreams unbidden.

Inciting, fuck , igniting my sheet-clutching and writhing erotic fantasies.

Of him holding me down, kissing me, stroking my heated skin, nipping my neck, lashing my nipples and tonguing my clit.

They were incandescent dreams that lit up my nights like a thousand stars. They left me panting and yearning for something that might never be.

Whichever form he took, Lorenzo was an omnipresent figure in my thoughts, a seduction, a temptation that I couldn't resist, no matter how hard I tried.

One night, in my tiny cottage, overcome with curiosity, I stalked him online with a Google search.

Little was written about him apart from an obscure Italian newspaper mentioning his influence over several business dealings in Naples.

I found links to a one-page company website, which I perused, but it was sketchy in detail.

Yet, from the little I'd gleaned from Bianca, he and his family were influential beyond measure.

She'd been their linchpin in Australia while he led their European operations. From the glint in her eye and the hints she'd dropped over the years, not all of it had been legal or above board.

It hadn't fazed me much; heck, I'd be born into a vicious biker clan.

I'd seen vice in all its forms and phases by age ten.

But my mother and I had run from that life and abandoned that world, keeping our lives a secret and away from the monsters.

Likewise, I sensed Lorenzo was a man of secrets, a man of power, and a man who was, in all likelihood, not to be trusted. Yet still, he haunted my every dream, his image burned into my mind like an indelible brand.

I shuddered, remembering our brief encounter, which infused me with need, then laughed out loud, recalling his morbid humour.

However, I was also aware that while he may have provided a comforting and passionate escape from a fleeting moment, he was not the kind of man offering any foundation for a future.

There be dragons here, I thought, for only heartache and devastation would come with loving such a man.

After all, I had life experience with being devoted to a charismatic man who had the gravitas to lead hundreds, if not thousands, to enact their will.

Besides, Lorenzo was outside my scope and purview.

He was a sophisticated operator who lived halfway around the world.

That was my heart song as I tried to convince myself that this was just a fleeting fancy, a product of my heightened emotions.

But trying as hard as I did, I couldn't erase the gleam in his eye. Nor the curl of his sensual lips, the rumble of his gravelled utterance, the way he'd spoken to me, the way he'd raked his eyes over me.

The heart wants what it wants, I thought.

While it was madness, deep down, I yearned to hear his rumbled bass in my ear.

To feel his sinewed hands on my skin and the scorching heat of his passion and intensity every day for the rest of my life.