Page 43 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
Lorenzo. He had been silent all this while, but I could almost hear his thoughts, taking in every word from her.
He grabbed my wrist, pulling me aside to the other side of the large office from her hearing. His grip was firm but not forceful, his voice low. “Are you serious?”
“She needs help,” I whispered back.
He shook his head. “Maria, you don’t even know her. You don’t know how dangerous this situation might be.”
I yanked my wrist free. “I do know because I know what victims look like, Lorenzo. I know what fear looks like.”
His jaw ticked.
He looked over my shoulder, watching the woman wring her hands together, shifting from foot to foot. He was assessing her the way he did everything, looking for lies, for weaknesses, for threats.
I softened my voice. “I know you’re just trying to be cautious, but not everyone has a hidden agenda.”
His eyes flickered almost like I had struck a chord in the rhythm of his heart.
I pushed. “What happened to you?” My voice dropped, quiet, almost pleading. “When did you stop believing in people?”
Lorenzo didn’t answer.
Not out loud.
But there was a gaze haunted in his expression that told me that he didn’t know the answer, but I did. When one has stayed too long in a business like his, you tend to be cautious about everyone and everything. You don’t trust people because they would continuously prove to you why they can’t be trusted. I didn’t blame him. It was the world he was now used to.
A long pause lingered between us.
Then, finally—
“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m coming with you.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Good.”
Because something told me this wouldn’t be as simple as grabbing a few bags and leaving.
It never was.
******
I asked questions the entire drive, trying to get as much information as I could in the shortest period of time. I could see Lorenzo’s eyes on me through the rearview mirror, stealing a glance at me.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Jeremy.”
“How long were you together?”
“We have been together for six months.”
Six months. Six months was enough for him to make her life a living hell.
“How did you meet?”
“At a bar. He was sweet at first.”
That’s how it always starts. Sweet at first, love bombing at best, and then turning into a disgusting, abusive animal at worst.
“And when did things change?”
