"Fine." The word comes out rough.
I don't believe him. His hand is still wrapped around mine, his grip almost painful. There's a wildness in his eyes I've never seen before. Not when Nico pulled a gun on me. Not even when he had Francesco against the wall.
"What happens now?" I ask. "If Francesco goes public with the engagement?"
Lorenzo's gaze sharpens. "Then we play the part."
"Which means what exactly?"
"Public appearances. Family dinners. You'll move into my apartment." He lists each item like bullet points in a business presentation. "We'll need to be seen together. Often enough to be believable."
My heart does something stupid in my chest. "And that's all?"
"What else would there be?"
But even as he says it, his eyes drop to my lips. Just for a second. Maybe less. But I catch it, and heat floods through me like someone opened a furnace door.
"Lorenzo..."
His name comes out breathless. I hate how desperate I sound. How obvious. But I can't help it. Not when he's looking at me like that. Like he's starving and I'm the only thing that could satisfy him.
"This is an arrangement only." His voice is steel, but there's something underneath. Something that makes my pulse race. "Protection. Nothing more."
The words should hurt. They don't. Because he's still holding my hand, and his thumb is moving against my palm in tiny circles, and I don't think he even knows he's doing it.
"Then why are you still holding my hand?"
He looks down, and genuine surprise crosses his face. Like he forgot our fingers were still intertwined. Like his body made the choice without consulting his brain.
He releases me immediately, stepping back so fast he hits the door.
"We'll need to be convincing," he says, and now he won't look at me at all. "In public."
"And in private?"
The question hangs between us. I watch his hands flex at his sides, watch him fight not to reach for me again.
"In private, we maintain boundaries."
"What boundaries?"
He finally meets my eyes, and the heat there makes my knees weak.
"The ones that keep you innocent and me sane."
The tension between us stretches so tight I can barely breathe. But I recognize the wall going up behind his eyes, the way his shoulders set. If I push now, he'll only retreat further.
"Why did we come here?" I ask instead, letting my voice soften. "To the restaurant?"
He moves away from the door, putting distance between us that feels like miles.
"You've been at the compound long enough." He walks to his desk, straightening papers that don't need straightening. "Thought you might want a change of scenery."
My heart does a little flip. He thought about what I might want.
"You can have dinner here tonight," he continues, still not looking at me.
Hope blooms in my chest, warm and dangerous. "Will you join me?"
