I look at him skeptically.
He laughs softly. “All right. Some rush. But not enough to skip lunch.”
“You have all become very invested in whether I eat.”
“We are Italian,” he says simply. “Our blood runs red with sauce.”
I smile despite myself. “So I’ve noticed.”
He gestures down the corridor, falling into step beside me as I head toward my temporary office. “Did you get any clarification from payroll?”
“Not yet. Ainsley messaged me about that Saturday, but I decided to leave it for today.”
Lorenzo stops walking.
I take two more steps before I realize and turn back.
He is looking at me with open surprise.
“What?”
“You left something for Monday?”
“Yes.”
“Voluntarily? Not at gunpoint?”
I laugh. “You make it sound like a miracle.”
“It is a little miraculous.”
“It was one weekend.”
“One weekend in which you did not work?”
“I have taken weekends off,” I insist.
His expression says he does not believe me.
“Really.”
Now he looks genuinely pleased.
What is with these men, and they’re obsession with my habits?
It makes me feel warm inside.
“That is good,” he says.
“Please do not make a thing of it.”
“I would never.”
“You already have.”
“Yes,” he admits. “But I will restrain myself going forward.”
“Thank you.”
