Page 31 of Lorenzo's Claim

“When you’ve lived with a father like mine, it’s clear enough.” I took the ice from him. “Can you grab those muffins from the oven? They should be done in about ten minutes. I need to go to bed.”

“Only if we can have some?” Red asked with a beaming smile.

“Of course, just don’t give any to that bastard.”

I meant every word, he deserved nothing.

With the restof the house asleep, I ended up in the gym close to Lorenzo’s home office. While growing up the gym had always been my sanctuary, it was a place I could let everything go, including this arranged marriage.

The far wall had many marks in it, from what looked to be from knife practice. I pulled out my two favourite knives frommy waistband and let out a steady breath before imagining Lorenzo’s face in the middle of the wall. Letting the first one go, I felt more alive than I had the last couple of days. It was how it used to be. How it always was. Just me, alone with my thoughts.

Or so I thought…

I didn’t need to see him to know he was hidden in the shadows, watching my every move. I launched my second knife towards the wall, the blade swishing through the air beneath the dim lighting. My grandfather taught me how to use a blade, and by the time he was finished, I could hit a bullseye with my eyes shut. Tonight was originally about me, but now it was about giving a middle finger to the man who belittled me earlier.

I retrieved my knives from the wall, and as expected, they both hit the bullseye mark. There were many attempts on that wall that hadn’t.

“You can stop hiding.” Venom laced my voice as he suddenly came into view. “I don’t know how you have the balls to come in here after how you spoke to me in front of everyone.” I scowled. “You’re proving to be a shit husband, Lorenzo. An arrangedmistake.”

Lorenzo’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed, a spark of something dangerous and alluring flickering in their depths. “Yet, here you are putting on a show for that same shit husband.” He whispered. “Tell me, wife, what else did your grandfather teach you? Are you all knives and no skill?”

His words struck a nerve. My grip tightened on the hilt on the knife until my knuckles turned white. I felt the rage simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. With a quick motion, I threw the knife towards him, embedding it into the wooden beam above his head. The sound of the blade sinking into the wood was sharp and music to my ears. I just wished I’d aimed lower.

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, his expression smoothing into something cool and detached. “Impressive.” He chuckled, stepping even closer. “But a real fight isn’t about tricks, Ana. It’s all about control, and if what happened in my office this morning is anything to go by, you have very little.”

I took a second to study him. He wore sweats and a tank, showing off the tattoo that decorated his chest and both arms, something I hadn’t truly paid attention to before. I wondered if there was a story behind them, but then had to give my head a mental shake because I didn’t actually care what story they held.

“Spar with me. Show me what you’ve got.”

“Why? What’s in it for you?” I questioned.

“I need to know my wife can protect herself if ever she needs to, so spar with me.” He closed the distance between us. “That wasn’t a request.” He grabbed my wrist, pulling my body flush to his. “It was an order.”

“It always is with you, isn’t it?” I asked rhetorically, already knowing his answer. “Are you sure you can handle it, Lorenzo?”

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle you just fine.” He chuckled as he leaned into me, the woodsy scent of his cologne invading my senses more than I would have liked. My eyes fell to the bandaged wound I caused, and I couldn’t hide the proud smile on my face.

The air crackled with tension, charged with unspoken hostility that had defined our marriage since the start—which was a mere few days ago. His gaze met mine as he challenged me.

“Alright, let’s spar, but don’t come crying to me when I put you on your ass.” I laughed, throwing my other knife to the floor.

“I’ll take that risk.” His smile faded, replaced with something darker and more primal.

He removed his tank, throwing it off to the side. My gaze dropped for a second, admiring his chiseled torso.

“My eyes are up here.” He teased, his breath warm against my skin.

“I wasn’t looking. Don’t flatter yourself.” I scoffed.

We circled one another like predators, the gym morphing into a fierce battleground where every step, every breath, reverberated as a calculated move in our tense game of cat and mouse. The air was thick with anticipation, and my heart pounded like a drum in my chest, a relentless rhythm that fuelled my heightened senses. I could feel every muscle tense, every nerve on edge, as I meticulously tracked his every move, noting the subtle shifts in his stance, and the glint of determination in his eyes.

Lorenzo struck first, his movement swift and deliberate, his hand darting out like a striking serpent to seize my waist. But I was prepared, my muscles coiled and ready to spring. With a fluid twist, I slipped from his grasp, my body weaving around him like a dancer evading an unwanted partner. My own hand lashed out in a swift arc, targeting the vulnerable spot beneath his ear where the skin was tender and exposed. Yet, with infuriating agility, the bastard deflected my strike, his reflexes as sharp as his intentions.

“Not bad.” He nodded. “But you’re holding back.”

“And you’re overconfident,” I retorted, my voice steady despite my racing pulse. I kneed him in the thigh, one sharp strike, hoping to weaken him, but as he absorbed the blow, his hand gripped my wrist, spinning me into him. His chest collided with my back as I let him have that one.

“You can’t win,” he murmured as I tried to break free. I knew I could but I’d underestimated his strength. He was relentless, and I could feel my skin bruising beneath his hold.

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