Page 96 of Malevolent Secrets

He halts, his entire body clenching with tension. I quickly retract my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you.”

“It’s fine, Daniella,” he says, his voice softer than usual.

I sit up, struggling with the nervousness I feel. What is this? What is this anxiety and awkwardness? I didn’t even feel this way when I first met him that night. But then again, I was completely out of my mind drunk the first time we met.

“Don’t go, please,” I say, and he nods, sitting back down. I move away from him, crossing my legs and settling into the bed. We look at each other for what feels like an eternity and then it’s my turn to sigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything that I said to you. I want you to know that I didn’t mean it. I don’t think that you’re a vile person and I know that you’re nicer, cooler, and way more amazing than anybody could ever know.”

The words tumble out of my mouth one after the other, kind of clustering together. I’m speaking so fast that I wonder if he even hears me or understands what I’m saying.

His eyes linger on me, and then he sighs, looking like he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. But why should he? Not after how vehemently I told him that I hated him.

I was upset, I had just found out about my fiancé and everything that happened. Rene, the lies, the deceit, and the manipulation. It was all too much for me, and I couldn’t take it.

“But after you left, and I didn’t speak to you, I regretted it.” My voice shakes, and I struggle to continue. Tears well up in my eyes. Damn pregnancy hormones. Damn my freaking tear ducts acting up all the time.

“When she told me that you had been shot, I hated myself because I didn’t want the last thing you heard me say to be that I hate you. Because that’s not true. I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you, Lorenzo. I never have.”

He still doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me. His gaze is so heavy, so strong and profound, that I feel like I’m melting beneath it. For a moment, I wonder what it’s like when he trains that look on his enemies and I quake with fear on their behalf.

“Say something, please,” I urge, and he shakes his head.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around what you’re saying right now, but it seems pretty hard to understand,” he replies, and I gulp again. I get up and crawl to him on the bed, until I’m practically in his lap.

“Lorenzo,” I start, but his eyes remain locked on me.

“Say it,” he insists.

“I don’t know,” I say, struggling to find the words.

“Very well, I’ll say it for you,” he says. “I love you, Tesoro. I think I have loved you from the moment that I saw you. Everything about you excites me. You call to my soul. Your presence, your laughter, your joy is my joy. Your happiness is my happiness. Your peace is my peace. I don’t think I’m anything without you. I try to remember what my life was like before you came along, and I cannot. And I hope that I never have to remember. I hope that I never lose you, because without you, I am nothing.”

He continues, “I don’t know what I love more, the fact that I can touch you like this, the fact that my child is growing in your stomach, or the fact that I am hoping, praying to God that you want me even half as much as I want you right now.”

Tears sting my eyes from his words. They pierce my heart because everything he’s saying, every single thing he’s feeling, I’m feeling it too. I love him.

I guess, if I’m being honest with myself, I have always loved him. That’s probably why I’ve always felt so conflicted when it comes to deciding what to do with him; the right thing or the morally ambiguous thing.

A tear slips down my face, and he wipes it away with his thumb. “Don’t cry. Please, I beg you, don’t cry. I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for making you cry. I will spend the rest of my life regretting that I caused you pain. I’m sorry. I should have been honest from the beginning about everything. I should have told you about Massimo, about my sister, about Jeremy. I should have been honest. I never should have lied to you. But I didn’t think you would want me. I didn’t think you would want to stay if you heard about all of those things. I didn’t think you would want to love me. I still don’t know if you can, if you want to.”

He stops again, holding my hand in his and bringing it to his mouth. He presses a kiss into my inner palm. “But it doesn’t matter. None of that matters right now because I love you. And if you will let me, I will love you hard enough for both of us. You won’t even have to lift a finger. Just stay with me. Just promise to stay with me. I will take care of you. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please.”

I crawl into his lap finally and he lets me. I straddle him and his arms move from my waist to my butt, cupping me and pulling me closer. I wrap my hands around his neck and press my body tighter against his.

“I love you too,” I say. “I love you so much it hurts. Everything hurts when I think about living a life where you’re not in it. Everything feels wrong when you’re not around. I enjoy playing with you. I enjoy flirting with you. I enjoy the way you touch me, the way you excite me. I enjoy growing your baby in my belly. I enjoy the life that we are building here. And even if we did not start right, I want us to continue now. Right. I want us to start over and I want us to make the right decisions from now on. No more lies, Lorenzo. No more deceit. No more manipulations. You have to promise me.”

“I promise you,” he says, pressing his hand to my stomach. “I promise you no more deceit. I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe. You and the baby.”

I feel a flutter in my stomach and I smile, imagining that it’s the baby moving. I wonder what our life will be like before I’m interrupted by the hardness pressed against my inner thigh. I look down at Lorenzo and he smiles up at me.

I move my hips again and he groans, holding me by my waist. I grin at him expectantly. If this was a movie, it would be cue for an intensely hot make-out session. But he does nothing. He doesn’t move, even though I can feel him growing harder beneath me.

“You’re not doing anything,” I whisper and he clutches my hips tightly.

“I told you I wouldn’t touch you again until you tell me to.”

I open my mouth and a shocked gasp escapes.

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