19. Diana

19

DIANA

L azaro finally brings dinner back to his room. He was gone longer than I expected and I'm relieved that he’s finally returned.

“I’m not a cook, so you’re stuck with peanut butter and jelly.” He sets the tray on the end of the bed.

“I like PB and J.” Holding the sheet over me, I move down the bed as Lazaro spreads pieces of bread with peanut butter.

“Sorry it took so long. I ran into Lana.”

I tense and look at him, wondering how that discussion went. He’s not pissed off so it couldn’t have been too bad.

“I think we’ve come to an understanding.” He puts a glob of jelly on the bread and assembles the sandwich.

“I’m glad.”

He hands me a napkin and the sandwich. “I told her I wanted you here so she shouldn’t bother you anymore.”

Has he met Lana? I can’t imagine she won’t let her thoughts about me be known, at least to me. But I nod, hoping he’s right.

He makes his sandwich and sits next to me. “Bon Appetit.”

I smile. “Bon Appetit.” I take a bite, and a glob of jelly drops from my sandwich onto the swell of my breast. “Oh.” I start to clean it up, but Lazaro stops me.

“Let me.” He leans forward, lapping up the jelly with his tongue. He tilts his head, looking up at me. “Yum.” He reaches for the jelly jar, dunking his finger in it and drawing it over my nipple. The cool, gooey fruit sends a thrill straight to my pussy.

“Hold on.” Lazaro jumps up, moving the tray off the bed to set it on a table. He brings the jelly back to bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I want Diana and jelly.”

I take a bite of my sandwich, because I am hungry, but then I wrap it in my napkin and let Lazaro put it aside on the bedside table next to the jelly.

He pushes me back, and he looks down on me like a predator ready to feast on his prey. It makes my body light from the inside out. It doesn’t matter that I’d been pleasured not that long ago. I’m ready again.

He drags more jelly over my breasts and then licks and sucks until I’m writing, need rising to nearly unbearable proportions.

“Delicious,” he murmurs.

“I want a turn.” I push him back and reach for the jar on the bedside table. I dip my finger in to scoop up some jelly. I consider running my finger down his chest, but let’s face it, what I really want is his dick. I plop the jelly on his hard tip.

He sucks in a breath as the cool jelly covers the head of his dick. I lean over, licking, lapping, and finally sucking him into my mouth.

“Fuck yeah.” His fingers thread through my hair.

I suck him until I can’t wait any longer. I move up his body and position him at my pussy, sinking down. I let out a long sigh as his length and girth fill me.

He levers up, reaching over for the jelly. He smears more over my breasts and licks and sucks as I slowly rock over him.

“Oh!” I gasp as the pleasure ratchets up.

He holds my breast, sucking the nipple deep into his mouth as his other arm bands around me, holding me to him. My pussy is on fire with need. My movements become more frantic.

He groans. “Fuck… so good.” His hands grip my hips, and he moves me over him, urging me to go faster. I hold his shoulders as I let go, riding him with free rein. “Yes… fuck, Diana… I’m coming.”

So am I. I cry out as my orgasm rockets through me. My pussy is still spasming when he flips me over and drives in, hard, fast, letting his own orgasm overtake him.

Lazaro collapses on top of me, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “You’re too delicious for your own good.”

I smile. I love the way Lazaro talks to me, like I’m giving him something he’s never had before. But I temper the hope that it means anything more than simply two people enjoying each other's company.

He rolls, pulling me with him. I snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe and protected. I give in to it, falling asleep in his arms.

I wake early, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. I glance at Lazaro's sleeping form beside me. His face, usually so guarded and intense, looks peaceful in slumber. The hard lines of his jaw and the scar on his temple seem softer somehow.

As I lie there, drinking in the moment, my stomach growls quietly. Last night's activities certainly worked up an appetite. I blush, remembering how Lazaro turned our dinner into an erotic game.

But now in the morning light, it’s time for reality. One that means I need to get up and head to work. I’m nervous. Will Lana really be okay with my working here and spending time with Lazaro? Will Anna and the staff be awkward around me? Whatever the answer, I have to make do as best I can.

Carefully, I slide out from under Lazaro's arm. He stirs slightly but doesn't wake. Once I'm free, I tiptoe across the room, grabbing clean clothes from my backpack, and head to the bathroom. My breasts are sticky from the jelly and Lazaro’s mouth. I smile as I shower and remember the night before.

Once clean, I dress quickly and quietly. When I exit the bathroom, I check on Lazaro, still sleeping in the warm looking bed. Part of me wants to crawl back into bed with him, but I want to get to the kitchen early and resettle myself, have a moment to mentally prepare.

I slip out of the room and make my way downstairs. The house is quiet at this early hour, and I relish the solitude as I head for the kitchen. My sanctuary. A place where I can think clearly and prepare myself for whatever the day might bring.

I push the door open and freeze at the sight of Lana. She's sitting alone at the table, her fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. Her eyes are distant, lost in thought, and I pray she hasn't noticed me yet.

Slowly, I try to back out of the kitchen. As I take a step backward, the floorboard creaks beneath my foot.

Lana's head snaps up, her piercing gaze locking onto mine. I feel like a deer caught in headlights, unable to move or speak.

"Diana," she says, her voice neutral. "Come in."

My stomach churns with anxiety, but I force myself to enter the kitchen. There's no running away now. I approach the table cautiously, reminding myself that right now, I’m staff, so I stand at the ready for whatever she might order me to do.

She studies me, and it’s all I can do not to squirm under her scrutiny.

“I'm going to be blunt. I don't trust you, and I'm keeping a very close eye on you."

I swallow hard, my hands threading together in front of me in a bundle of nerves. I remind myself that she’s protective of Lazaro. "I understand.”

“If you really understood, you wouldn’t have returned. But Lazaro seems to feel some sort of connection to you. And for reasons I can't fathom, he insists on letting you stay."

I nod, not daring to interrupt.

"So, for now, I'm going to let this go," Lana says, leaning back in her chair. "But make no mistake, Diana. One wrong move, one hint that you're taking advantage of my brother's vulnerability, and you'll be out of here faster than you can blink."

I meet her gaze, trying to convey my sincerity. "I understand, Ms. D'Amato. I promise, I have no ill intentions toward Lazaro or your family."

Lana's expression remains skeptical, but she gives a curt nod. “I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you. Lazaro's affections can be rather… fleeting."

My stomach drops at her words, but I try to keep my expression neutral.

"You see, my brother has quite the history with women. He's always been a charmer, a real Casanova type. The girls just fall at his feet."

She pauses, taking a sip of her coffee before continuing. "Before his accident, Lazaro would go through women like tissues. He'd sweep them off their feet, shower them with attention, and then move on to the next pretty face that caught his eye."

She trails off, leaving the implication hanging in the air between us. I feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me— hurt, anger, confusion. But most of all, I feel a deep sense of uncertainty. Could Lana be right? Am I just another conquest for Lazaro?

These thoughts highlight how terrible I’ve been at trying to keep my emotions out of the situation. I have no reason to believe I mean more to Lazaro than any of his previous women. Perhaps there’s a little something extra about me that helps him feel calm in the storm his life has become, but that doesn’t mean he feels more for me than he has for other women.

“Matteo said when they went to the club, the ladies were all over him. He’s fucked them all, you know. Sometimes, several at one time.” Lana shakes her head and a smile comes to her face. “When Dad arranged an engagement between Elio and Ava Rinella, me and Lazaro were about sixteen, and he was adamant that he wouldn’t allow Dad to do that to him. ‘Why would I want to limit myself to one woman?’ he said.”

I understand she’s trying to make me second-guess my decision to be with Lazaro, but I have no reason to doubt what she’s saying, either. I can see Lazaro as a womanizer. But that’s the old Lazaro. He’s different now. I want to tell her that, but there’s no point. Plus, there’s no reason to think he’ll remain different. Back with his family, doing all the things he used to do, the chance of his reverting to his old ways is high. Especially if his memory comes back.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself against Lana's words. "Ms. D'Amato, I’m well aware of my situation. Right now, all I want is for Lazaro to find peace with himself. If being with me helps in any way, I’m happy to be with him.”

Lana's eyebrow arches skeptically. “At some point, he won’t want you. You do understand that, don’t you?”

I pause, meeting Lana's gaze directly. "When Lazaro decides he doesn't want me in his life anymore, I will respect that decision. I'm not here to force myself into his world or your family. I care about him enough to let him go if that's what he truly wants."

My words hang in the air between us. Despite my heartfelt words, skepticism lingers in Lana's eyes. Her gaze remains sharp, calculating, and a knot forms in my stomach.

Lana rises from her seat with a commanding air that makes me instinctively straighten my posture.

"As long as you understand.”

I nod.

“Since you're here, I'd like eggs Benedict for breakfast. And make sure the hollandaise is perfect."

"Of course, Ms. D'Amato. I'll get right on it."

She gives me one last appraising look before turning on her heel and striding out of the kitchen.

I let out a shaky breath, my hands gripping the edge of a chair. The weight of everything—my feelings for Lazaro, the precarious nature of my position here, the D'Amato family dynamics—suddenly feels overwhelming.

I pull the ingredients for eggs Benedict from the refrigerator. I see on the posted menu that Anna has planned French toast. But I can't defy Lana. Right now, at this moment, I’m not Lazaro’s… what am I? A plaything? A dalliance? A distraction? Doesn’t matter. Right now, I work for the family and I’ve been instructed to make eggs Benedict.

I pull out the egg poacher, filling the pan with water to heat as I wipe out the individual poaching trays. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind whirls with worry. Have I just entered a truce with Lana? Or will there be more of her harsh words until I can’t take it anymore? Will Lazaro tire of me? When will that be?

As I put the pan on the heat and start preparing the hollandaise sauce, I try to shake the feeling that I’m walking on a tightrope. One wrong step could send me tumbling either into heartache or death.