He’d given me everything.
And even though I knew it was a manipulation, even though I knew he was trying to buy my affection, I couldn’t deny that it felt good to have options.
To have nice things.
To feel like someone, somewhere, thought I was worth the effort.
I ran my fingers over the silk blouses, the soft cashmere sweaters, the delicate lace dresses before settling on a simple sundress, light blue and soft, and a pair of sandals.
I met him at the door, and he looked me over, his eyes softening.
“You look stunning,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.
I rolled my eyes. “I look like a hangover in a dress.”
“You look stunning,” he repeated, his voice firm.
And for a second—just a second—I almost believed him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lorenzo
The brunch was perfect.
I’d chosen the place carefully—a small spot by the water, tucked away from the tourist crowds, where the waiters knew my name and the chef made pancakes that could bring a woman to tears. It wasn’t flashy, but it was a place I thought she would appreciate, and I wanted to share it with her.
Zara sat across from me, her sundress loose around her shoulders, curls falling over her shoulder. She was nursing a mimosa with the careful deliberation of someone who’d learned the hard way that too much champagne led to a shitty migraine the next day.
But she was smiling.
A real smile.
The first one I’d seen from her that wasn’t laced with sarcasm or guarded pain.
“I’m trying,” I said, setting down my fork.
She looked up, her dark eyes meeting mine. “I know.”
For a moment, I thought I saw something soften in her expression. The walls she’d built—the ones I’d been battering against since the moment I saw her—seemed to lower, just a crack.
“Come,” I said, pushing back my chair. “Let’s walk.”
She blinked. “Where?”
“The water. There’s a path.” I held out my hand.
I saw the war in her eyes—the part of her that wanted to say no, that wanted to stay safe, that remembered every man who’d ever hurt her. But then she took a breath, and her fingers met mine.
I kept her hand in mine as we walked along the boardwalk, the late morning sun casting long shadows across the water. The breeze was cool, carrying the salt of the harbor and the distant sound of seagulls.
“Tell me about your family,” she said, her voice quiet. “The real stuff.”
I let out a low laugh. “That’s a dangerous question.”
“Good. I like danger.”
I glanced at her, and for a second, I saw a spark of mischief in her eyes. With that look, I’d answer any question she’d ask of me.
