Page 84 of Lorenzo's Claim

He gripped the edge of my chair, pulling me towards him effortlessly as I let out a delighted giggle. Bringing his face close, he rested his nose against mine. “And you’re the one getting me back on track.” He tucked my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering beside my jaw. “Anastacia Ricci, you’re mine. Do you know that?”

“I had a feeling,” I teased as he caressed my face with his knuckles.

“You make me want to be a better man, Ana,” he whispered. “You make me believe that I can be.”

“You are a good man. You just chose to hide it before.” I leaned into him, my lips almost brushing his as a bright flash of white caught our attention.

“I’m sorry, Lorenzo. The moment was just too perfect to miss.” Silvia held a small camera in her hands. Lorenzo couldn’t hide his amusement when he glanced over. “This photo will grace our wall alongside our many family photos.” She directed her hand to the wall behind us. All the photos were of Lorenzo’s family, including Carmella’s wedding photo. Although she stood alone, clutching her bouquet, and looking radiant.

“Ah, Lorenzo, look at you!” I pointed at a photo of my husband as a small boy beside his grandparents. He was elbow deep in dough with a cheeky smile.

“He was full of mischief as a boy and into everything.” Elio chuckled, as he admired his grandson.

After dinner, we said our goodbyes, promising to spend more time together before we returned home. I never felt so welcomed before, and I was honoured that I got to meet them and learn more about Lorenzo as a boy.

“So, where to now? Home?” I asked as we stepped back into the night, the warmth of the evening wrapping around us like a blanket.

“Most definitely not.” He led me through the side streets back to the main square where the city was alive with music and laughter. “If you’ll give me one minute.”

Before I had time to answer, he stepped up to a small flower vendor, purchasing a single red rose. “I know it’s not much, but I couldn’t resist.” I accepted his gift as I admired the beauty between my fingers.

“It’s perfect, absolutely perfect.” I blushed, inhaling the fresh scent of the flower.

“That’s the first of many, wife.” The way he called me that had changed. It was softer with a whole lot more emotion. Before, he just sounded like a menacing robot. “How about some gelato from the best shop in Sicily?” he asked, already guiding me across the cobbled street to the vibrant storefront.

“As long as we don’t have to share,” I teased, noticing the array of flavours in the see-through freezer display.

“So you’ll share the rest of your life with me but not your ice cream?” He gasped, a playful tone lacing his voice.

“Mhm, that’s correct,”

“What flavour do you want?” he asked, his hand never leaving mine.

“You know what—surprise me.”

“I love a challenge.” It was true, he did.

And he lived up to that challenge, picking my favourite flavour without even knowing.

We headed back outside, strolling alongside one another. “So, how’s the lemon?” he asked before spooning a scoop of pistachio gelato into his mouth.

“Really good. You want to try some, don’t you?” I questioned, holding out the spoon to him.

“Go on then. Let me see if it’s better than mine.”

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” I replied, watching as he did what I asked of him.

I scooped a dollop of ice cream onto my finger and smeared it on the tip of his nose. Unable to hide my laughter as he opened his eyes in surprise.

“You’re going to regret that, Mrs. Ricci,” he warned, his voice low and seductive. He said it in a tone that made my stomach flip before he erupted in laughter. I had never seen him so carefree and relaxed. It was a side to him I wanted to see more often. He wiped off the ice cream with his thumb before popping it into his mouth. “I think yours might be better than mine.”

“Hands off, Ricci,” I rolled my eyes with a smile teasing my lips. My gaze softened as I looked at him, feeling something I never thought I’d feel around him—at ease. It was the first time we were relaxed enough that we let our guards down.

“Come with me.” He gave me no choice as he weaved us through the crowd with the confidence of a man who owned the streets. I gripped his hand tighter, following him wherever it was he wanted to go. We stopped in front of a jewellery shop, its windows glittering like a treasure trove.

When he led me inside, the air was cool and fragrant, the beautiful jewels bathed in soft, flattering light. The elderly shopkeeper nodded respectfully to Lorenzo before offering me a gentle smile.

“How can I help you both this evening?” he asked warmly.

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