Page 70 of Malevolent Secrets

He’s dressed in a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos that snake up his forearms. His dark trousers are perfectly tailored and the leather shoes he wears shine as if they’ve just been polished.

His hair is slicked back and his intense eyes meet mine, unreadable as always.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and controlled.

I nod, trying to steady my breathing. “Yes.”

Lorenzo steps inside, his presence filling the small space. He looks around, his gaze sweeping over the boxes and the now-empty house. He says nothing, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—concern, maybe?—before he turns back to me.

“Let’s go,” he says simply.

I watch as some men come into the house and start picking up my things. They carry the boxes out to the car, a sleek black SUV with tinted windows.

It’s understated, yet imposing, much like Lorenzo himself. As the men load the last of the boxes into a truck, Maria appears at the door, giving me a supportive smile. It’s a nice surprise to see her here again.

“I thought her presence here would make the transition easier,” Lorenzo says when I look at him with that questioning look.

Again, he’s done something thoughtful, it really puts more weight into what Maria said about him the other day.

She takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“He asked me to be here for you so that you’re not just surrounded by men.”

I laugh a little and she smiles.

“You’ll be fine,” she says softly.

“Thank you, Maria. For everything.”

She nods and I can see the worry in her eyes. But she trusts Lorenzo, and for now, that will have to be enough.

I climb into the passenger seat and Lorenzo starts the engine. The ride is quiet, the hum of the road and the occasional rustle of leaves the only sounds breaking the silence.

I steal glances at Lorenzo, trying to decipher his thoughts, but his expression remains inscrutable.

“Thank you for sending Maria to help,” I say eventually, breaking the silence.

“She’s reliable and fond of you,” he replies, his eyes fixed on the road. Maybe she’s not the only one who’s fond of me. It’s wishful thinking at its finest.

“I’m grateful. It made things easier.”

He nods, but says nothing more. The tension in the car is palpable and I can’t help but feel a pang of frustration. Lorenzo is an enigma, and his silence only adds to my confusion.

We drive through winding roads, the scenery changing from urban sprawl to lush greenery. The car finally turns into a long driveway flanked by towering trees, leading to large, white gates. The gates swing open smoothly as we approach, revealing a sprawling estate beyond.

The Duretti compound is magnificent. The mansion is a blend of modern architecture and classic elegance, with white stone walls and large windows that reflect the sunlight.

The gardens are meticulously kept, with vibrant flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. A large fountain stands in the center of the driveway, its water sparkling in the morning light.

Lorenzo parks the car and steps out, coming around to open my door. His gentlemanly gesture is unexpected, and I find myself momentarily flustered.

“Come on,” he says, leading me to the front door, a hand on my lower back.

We step inside, and I’m immediately struck by the grandeur of the interior. The foyer is expansive, with marble floors and a sweeping staircase that curves up to the second floor.

Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the space. The walls are adorned with tasteful artwork, and the furniture is a blend of luxury and comfort.

“This way,” Lorenzo says, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space.

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