Page 22 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
“Then why bring it up?”
His gaze darkened. “Because it does matter.”
The space between us shrank, my pulse pounded, and every nerve in my body was hyperaware of his proximity.
He took another step, close enough that I could smell the familiar scent of him, cedar and musk, dark and intoxicating. “If you don’t want to go through with this, tell me now. But don’t leave me standing at the altar again.”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “I thought you forgave me for that. Isn’t that why you wanted me to come back? That’s what Luca said.”
Lorenzo’s lips curled slightly. “Luca will say anything to get what he wants.”
The smirk faded.
His expression turned serious again. “I was hurt, Maria. But I was also afraid that I pushed you into something you didn’t want. That I made you so desperate or terrified you had to run.”
I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him, that it was me, and that I had been drowning in guilt and fear and the overwhelming weight of my choices.
But I couldn’t say that.
Instead, I forced a smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that terrifying.”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened with something dangerous. “Aren’t I?”
The words cut through every fiber of my being. Every fake smile and strength I had mustered came crashing down with a single sentence.
He moved closer, the heat of his body radiating against mine. I should have stepped back. I should have put space between us.
I didn’t.
His fingers brushed against my arm, barely there, and my breath hitched. My nerves coiled tighter, suffocating, electric. His gaze dropped to my lips, and I knew—knew—that if I leaned in just a little more, and if I let myself forget everything for just one second, he would lean in, too, and his lips would be on mine.
And I would let him.
“Terrified now,” he murmured. “Tell me.”
I knew he was challenging me. I knew we were testing the waters, and I would soon drown in him.
The word “Stop” sat on my tongue, refusing to move, refusing to break the spell we were tangled in.
His hand skimmed up my arm, fingers grazing my bare shoulder. My breaths came short and uneven. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to do something—push him away, pull him closer, anything to stop this unbearable anticipation.
His lips hovered just above mine. So close, too close.
“Maria—”
“Enrico wants to talk to us.”
Luca’s voice shattered the moment like a bullet through glass.
I jerked back, my pulse racing and my cheeks burning. Lorenzo didn’t move right away. His gaze lingered on me for a fraction of a second longer before he straightened, slipping back into his unreadable mask.
Luca arched an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting something?”
I forced a breath. “No.”
Lorenzo’s lips twitched. “Yes.”
Luca rolled his eyes. “Well, as fun as this is, Enrico is waiting, and from the looks of things, he is not pleased by your homecoming. So, let’s go.”
