Chapter 27
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ZENA (28YRS)
I had no idea what I intended doing right up until I climbed out the cab and stared at the exterior to The Serpente. Apart from some minor changes to the signage, the building still looked the same. I hesitated for just a moment before the sudden churn in my stomach reminded me why I was there. My steps slow, I climbed the steps that led up to the glass doors and pushed them open. Inside, I blinked against the dimness and approached a receptionist seated behind the black counter. She was new. Obviously. It was years since I left.
“Hi. Can I help you?” she greeted with a pleasant smile.
“Yes. I’m here to see Lorenzo, please.”
She frowned. “Do you have an appointment?”
I shook my head. “I know hi—”
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”
I looked up as Remo Rossi strolled toward me, his smile a toss-up between cynical and surprise. “Hello, Zena. Never thought I’d lay eyes on you again.” His blue eyes sparkled with devious intent as it roved over my red mid-thigh flared skirt and long-sleeved while blouse. “Fuck, kitten. If I only knew you’d fill out this way, I would’ve kept you against my brother’s wishes.” He licked his lips.
“Hi, Remo.” Immediately, my brain backtracked to our last moment together. When he’d threatened me that night I lied to Lorenzo about him raping me. I never saw Remo since, even right until that moment we escaped. While I wouldn’t say it out loud, time had been good to him. If I thought he was attractive then, nothing could’ve prepared me for the six-foot something of pussy-enticing pheromones standing in front of me. The Rossi brothers could easily be described as both literally and physically dangerous to a woman’s heart.
“What brings you here, Zena?”
“I need to see Lorenzo.”
His laugh was low. “What makes you think he’ll want to see you?”
Suddenly hesitant, I glanced away to find the receptionist’s attention on us. I leaned in close to Remo. “I’m pregnant,” I whispered.
His brows slanted inward, the smirk replaced by an instant scowl as he grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hallway behind the reception. “I might not be familiar with the whole pregnancy shit, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t take six years after you fuck a man to fall pregnant,” he growled, guiding me toward the elevator. “What shit do you have up your sleeve, kitten.” His expression clearly warned not to mess with him.
“Lorenzo and I had sex a couple of weeks ago—”
“How? Where?” He frowned.
“I was staying at a friend’s place—”
“Which friend?” he snapped as the doors opened and he yanked me out of the elevator. Dread steamrolled my bravery. I wasn’t sure what he knew of that night. “Which friend, Zena?” he repeated, impatience bouncing of his tense shoulders.
“Bianca Valentine,” I mumbled.
He stopped walking and stared at me for a long moment. “Lorenzo screwed you instead of her?” His chuckle was caustic, making the hairs at my nape stand on end. “How the fuck did that happen?”
“I stayed over the night he visited her and he thought I was Bianca because the lights were off.” I found it strange Lorenzo hadn’t mentioned me to Remo. During my kidnapping I got the feeling they shared everything. Unless Remo was playing me to get the truth out.
“Well, I’ll be damned. So, you’re pregnant and what? You want my brother to marry you and play house?”
I flinched at the coldness in his tone. “No. I just thought he should know.”
“You’re fifteen minutes too late, kitten,” he muttered further confusing me, but I refrained from asking.
He opened a door at the end of the hallway and gestured for me to enter. Inside, I paused, taking in the two occupants in the room. The way he stood, told me the large man was a bodyguard. My gaze flicked to the other person. A woman who appeared to be on the phone. She had her back to us and I watched as Remo approached her. A cream suit, cut to perfection, indicated she was a woman of classy tastes. Her dark hair was swept up in a tight bun, showing off a long, graceful neck. Even from behind, her presence was commanding. I wondered who she was. Remo leaned in to speak to her and she peered at me over her shoulder.
The second those eyes met mine, I froze. There was no mistaking her identity. Lorenzo’s mother. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. She sported the same blue eyes and cold expression as her sons. Why did Remo bring me to her instead of Lorenzo? She turned now, her gaze on me as she finished her call. I had the sudden urge to get the hell out of there. It was too late. With steps filled with unerring confidence, she crossed the room. Remo followed but hung back when she stopped in front of me.
She was a beautiful woman. Her body lean and trim, her make-up perfect. It was easy to see she’d been under the Botox needle a few times. Her forehead was smooth and unexpressive. Then again, given the cold indifference radiating from her, she probably wasn’t a woman who displayed any sort of emotion. Even if she did, I was inclined to think it accompanied the barrel of a gun.
