I take a step forward. Then another.
Lorenzo doesn't move, but I catch the slight tension in his shoulders. The way his hands flex at his sides.
"Thank you," I whisper. "For agreeing to this."
Before I can think better of it, before my brain can scream at me to stop, I close the distance between us.
My arms go around his waist.
Lorenzo turns to stone.
Every muscle in his body locks up. He doesn't push me away, but he doesn't return the embrace either. Just stands there, rigid as marble, while I press my cheek against his chest.
He smells so good.
SO. GOOD.
His heart beats steady under my ear. Controlled. Nothing like mine.
God, what am I doing?
Heat floods my face. This was stupid. So stupid.
But I can't seem to let go.
His chest rises with a sharp inhale. "Sophia."
Just my name. Nothing else. But the way he says it—like it costs him something—makes my skin prickle.
I force myself to step back, dropping my arms. Can't meet his eyes. Can't bear to see the pity or disgust or whatever emotion is there.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to—" The words stick in my throat.
"Don't apologize." His voice sounds strange. Strained.
I risk a glance up. His face gives nothing away. Never.
"I'll call Francesco in two hours," he says, already moving toward the door. "You can listen in."
"Okay." I wrap my arms around myself again, suddenly cold despite the sweater.
He leaves without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.
I sink onto the bed, pressing my palms against my burning cheeks. That hug was a mistake. Now he probably thinks I'm some desperate girl with a crush.
Which I am.
But he doesn't need to know that.
A soft knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts.
"Miss Sophia?" Giulia's voice filters through the door. "They're waiting for you in the living room."
My stomach tightens. The call to Francesco.
"Thank you. I'll be right down."
The walk downstairs feels endless.
