Page 34 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
Taking a slow breath, I walked down the stairs, refusing to let my feet rush just because my body betrayed me at the mere sound of his voice.
And then I saw him.
Damn it.
He was leaning against the counter, completely at ease, a beer in one hand, his other resting casually in his pocket. His black button-up was undone at the top, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and his dark slacks fit him too well. The golden glow of the kitchen light caught the sharp cut of his jaw, the slight smirk playing at his lips, and those damn eyes—dark, unreadable, but always watching.
I hated that he looked this good.
I hated even more that my body reacted to it before my brain could remind me I was supposed to be mad.
So, I did the only thing I could—I shoved the feeling down, buried it deep, and masked everything with indifference. After listening to him and Luca going back and forth about some “warning,” I crossed my arms. “Why are you here? Lorenzo”
He pushed off the counter, closing the space between us in that slow, deliberate way that made my pulse do stupid things. “I wanted to see you.”
Luca just shot me an exasperated look. “I hate you both,” he said before walking past me, grumbling something under his breath.
I blinked after him, then turned back to Lorenzo, narrowing my eyes. “What was that about?”
Lorenzo smirked, taking a sip of his beer like he hadn’t just been threatened. “Nothing important.”
I exhaled, pretending I needed to think about it, even though I already knew I would say yes.
Because despite everything, despite how infuriating he was, I wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Fine.”
His smirk deepened like he knew I was already losing this battle.
I veered around, grabbing my flip-flops at the entrance of the kitchen before he could see my face betray me, leading him out to the garden.
The evening air was warm, the scent of jasmine thick, and the world outside was quiet except for the faint hum of the city in the distance.
Lorenzo slowed beside me, his gaze flicking toward a tree in the corner of the garden—the one with the low, thick branches, the one that had been here since we were kids.
His lips quirked. “Remember when you used to climb that?” My mind flickered back to the countless days and nights we had played here growing up. On those days, I would drown myself at the sight of him, wondering when he would ever notice me and stop seeing me as his best friend’s sister.
I snorted. “Used to? I could still climb it now.”
His brows lifted. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” I smirked, tilting my head. “What, you don’t think I can?” I prayed silently that he didn’t dare me to climb it because I was already imagining how hard I would fall and break at least four joints and fracture at least seven bones.
He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “I just remember you getting stuck.”
I groaned, covering my face. “I was eight.”
“And I was the one who had to climb up and pull you down.”
I peeked at him through my fingers. “You were showing off.”
He grinned. “Maybe a little.”
I laughed despite myself, shaking my head, and just like that, the tension that had been pressing down on us loosened. I almost forgot that I was mad at him.
Lorenzo turned to face me fully, his expression softening. “Maria…”
Then, his voice pulled me back to reality.
