He asks it so casually, like he's inquiring about the weather. Like the answer doesn't matter at all.
My temper flares. This is the man who just kissed me, who holds me like I'm precious, and he's asking about past boyfriends like he couldn't care less about the answer?
I step out of his embrace. "Why do you ask?"
He shrugs, turning away to straighten papers on his desk that don't need straightening. "Just curious. Making conversation."
Making conversation.Right. Because that's what you do after kissing someone until your knees go weak—make small talk about their dating history.
"No," I say flatly. "I didn’t have a boyfriend at the moment I left."
"But you've had..." He waves his hand vaguely, still not looking at me.
The dismissive gesture makes my blood boil. He wants to know but won't even ask properly, won't show he cares about the answer. A man who wants a woman would care. A man who's interested would need to know.
"Had what, Lorenzo?" My voice sharpens. "Sex? Is that what you're dancing around?"
He finally looks at me, his expression carefully neutral. "I'm just trying to understand?—"
"If you're asking whether your new wife is a virgin or not," I interrupt, my chin lifting with a defiance I don't entirely feel, "then yes. I am."
The words hang between us like a challenge. His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. His hands curl into fists at his sides.
"Sophia—"
"What? Is that a problem? Does it change our arrangement?" I keep my voice steady even though my heart pounds. "Or were you hoping for someone more experienced to play your fake fiancée?"
He moves then, closing the distance between us. His hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicts the fire in his eyes.
"Nothing about you is a problem," he says, voice low and dangerous. "Nothing."
"Then why did you ask?" The words come out sharper than intended, but I don't care. I'm tired of this dance we're doing.
Lorenzo's hand drops from my face. He takes a step back, that careful mask sliding back into place. "I told you. I was curious. And I needed to know if some boyfriend was going to come looking for you. Create complications."
My hands shake with the effort not to slap him.
"That's bullshit."
His eyebrow arches. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." I clutch the phone he gave me, needing something solid to hold onto. "That's complete bullshit and you know it."
"Sophia—"
"No." I cut him off, my voice rising. "You want to know why it's bullshit? Because if you were worried about some boyfriend causing problems, you would have asked that question days ago. When I first showed up. When you were doing your background checks. Not now."
Lorenzo's jaw works, but he says nothing. Just stands there, looking at me with eyes that give away nothing and everything at once.
"You know what? Forget it." I turn toward the door. "Thanks for the phone."
I walk out, closing the door with softly when what I really want is to slam it hard enough to shake the walls. My hands tremble as I clutch the phone to my chest, heading for my room.
Behind me, I hear something crash in his office. Glass breaking.
Good. Let him rage. Let him feel something.
Even if he won't admit it.
