Page 73 of Love Arranged
“Bonus if they have bows or something fun embroidered on them.” The comment slips out before I remember myself.
“Noted for next time.”
Something flutters in my stomach at his use ofnext time.
You’re going to have a hard time adjusting to this whole fake relationship if you get all hot and bothered at the mere idea of spending more time with him.
Willow is about to say something before all our noses twitch from the scent of something burning.
“The bread!” She takes off toward what I assume is the kitchen.
Lorenzo plugs his nose. “I swear that woman would burn water if it was possible.”
I rub my rumbling stomach. “Now I’m wishing I had eaten before.”
“I’d never let her cook me a meal.” He turns and heads down the same walkway as Willow, silently ordering me to follow.
The extravagant interior is everything I’d expect from a Lopez Luxury build. From the conversation pit and stone fireplace to the imported marble floors, I can’t help noting all the little details that make Julian’s homes so popular among the rich.
I follow Lorenzo through a hallway. There are large photo frames hanging on both walls, all featuring different cars.
I stop to check out one of them. “I don’t know what I expected when I first saw your house, but the lonely bachelor aesthetic isn’t it.” I motion toward all twenty frames.
“Who said I was lonely?”
“An educated guess based on how you don’t have a single photo of you with someone else.” I drag my finger across thebottom of the frame. I don’t find a single speck of dust, much like the rest of this place.
We continue walking, and I only stop one more time to point at a car I’ve seen around town with the doors that swing up toward the sky. “I didn’t realize this one was yours too.”
“Most of the cool ones around here are.”
I laugh without meaning to. “How many do you have now?”
He tucks his hand into his pocket—a habit I notice but never comment on. “Twenty.”
I turn back to the photos to stop myself from staring at his sharp jawline. “Are you on the hunt for number twenty-one?”
He nods, his lips twitching like he wants to smile. “I’m currently searching for a Dawn Drophead.”
I stare at him blankly.
“A Rolls-Royce. Preferably either from 1951 or 1953,” he adds.
I let out a whistle. “Fancy.”
“There’s only a few in the US, but I’m in contact with someone in Europe who might be interested in trading cars.” He sounds…excited, and it knocks at least five years off him in that moment.
“Is the person a fellow car collector?”
“He’s known for it.”
My brows rise. “I wasn’t aware that was something one could become famous for.”
“Only when their name is Santiago Alatorre.”
I think I’ve heard Nico mention that name before, but I don’t remember in what context.
A fire alarm goes off in the distance, and Lorenzo and I rush toward the sound. We run into a chef’s dream kitchen, where Willow is jumping up and down underneath the fire alarm, waving a towel around to stop the noise.
