Hmmm, where’s his Italian accent?Maybe he was surprised too? “Hey …” I grinned, my breasts sticking out more than usual with my body plastered against the door. The knob gave no slack.Ugh. I started an idiot wave when Lorenzo pulled me into a hug.
“Hey, buddy …” I said again, patting his back.
“Don’t make this awkward,” he replied, all smooth and Italian.
Okay, it was there. And beautiful. He thumbed a lock of my hair in his hand, and that boldness that made me chomp my teeth at him in the elevator never came. I inhaled his intoxicating cologne. A blink transported me to Rome. Lemon notes infused with verbena.
“Don’tflirt.” I flitted a hand, stopping him from playing with my hair.
“I’m hungry. You hungry?”
“No.” Well … It was lunchtime … I’d never missed a meal, except for fasts.
“C’mon, Natasha. I respect you.You’remonogamous.”
The emphasis onyou’reseemed to question Lachlan. “Sure am. A one-guy type of girl.” Smile plastic, I meandered toward the elevator.
“Okay, lunch in the hospital cafeteria. My cousin got used to it. So I did too. Besides, nothing scandalous happens in a hospital cafeteria.” His voice teased, but tension rested at his mouth, his muscled shoulders, as he waited for my response. That whole attempt to seem relaxed made me wonder if thoughts distracted him. And his intense stare added to the unease building in my chest.
“Which room is Rain in?” I tilted my head. “Grab yourself and her something, I’ll meet you there, see if your cousin’s up for a hello.”
“Not possible.”
M’kay?
A palpable sadness washed over his face. “She’s dead.”
9
LORENZO
“She’s dead.”The vein in my throat pulsed. A usual occurrence when I sighted a tango in the scope of my rifle.
Natasha Resnova was practically a nun. Not making this easy onusin the slightest. She wanted me. This.
“Rain … died?” she stuttered. Shock rippled through her as we stopped near the elevator. My chest tightened. That same shock rushed through me. My brain worked in mysterious ways, came up with crap. And I rolled with it. I had worried she’d ask the hospital staff about Rain. Obviously, she hadn’t.Good.She trusts me.
As I nodded, her shock faded, and sadness followed, as if she mourned any person—friend or stranger—who didn’t stick it to cancer.
Too trusting. Exactly what I needed.
I stepped closer, maintaining a vigil on every angle. Where was that bodyguard with the super white-blond hair and rectangular face? “Yes.” My voice lowered, deep, gruff, the pain of losing my mama—the only hurt I ever knew—gave the moment a genuine touch. “Three years ago. In between missions, I-I’d come to the hospital.”
“But with a unicorn?”
“Yep. Still drag that stupid unicorn here. Same one I should’ve given her long ago.” I fisted my hands into my eyes and let out an explosive breath.C’mon, stupid tears!Nope. Didn’t work. “Sounds like I’m crazy?”
“No.”
“So, me and Unicorn, we sit in the lobby as if we’re waiting for her to exit chemo.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Nah. I’m sorrier. A liar. I lied to you the other day.” I cleared my throat and stared her deep in the eye. Owning the crap I offered. “Didn’t want to sound silly.Tre anni …” I replied three years again in Italian, with a humorless bark of a laugh.
“I’m so sorry, Enzo.”
“Rain had a favorite cafeteria meal.”Now come eat with me. It’s how Italians open up, from what I’ve learned. And I wanted to openherup. In more ways than one.
