Page 62 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
“It’s not me versus you,” he continued, his voice steady but intense. “It’s us versus the issue. Always.”
My heart twisted because that—that was strength. That was the kind of man Lorenzo had become. And maybe that was the kind of man I could have fallen for if things had been different.
But I stared at him, breathless and shaken from something else clawing at my chest. This kiss—his touch and his taste reminded me of something and someone. Shade. That realization disturbed me deeply.
I pulled away completely, gripping the car door handle like it was my only lifeline. Lorenzo didn’t stop me this time. But he didn’t look away either.
I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. Instead, I got into my car, shut the door, and drove away, my lips still tingling and my heart still pounding, with one thought echoed in my mind.
What have I just done?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LORENZO
I drove through the dark streets, gripping the wheel tighter than necessary, my mind looping the same damn moment over and over. Maria. That kiss.
Her taste was still on my lips, like a drug I didn’t ask for but suddenly couldn’t live without. I was addicted, totally and utterly addicted to the taste of her lips.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was an unraveling and a loss of control I never allowed myself. I should have stopped it sooner. I should have reminded myself what this was—fake, a performance, a well-staged lie. Something that wasn’t part of the deal we had made with one another.
But nothing about the way she kissed me back felt like a lie. Her fingers in my hair, the way her body pressed against mine, the way she trembled when my hands moved lower—every bit of it was real, too real.
I exhaled sharply, shifting gears, trying to shake off the heat crawling under my skin. I wanted her. Every part of me ached to pull her back into my arms and do what I’d barely managed to stop myself from doing in that damn parking lot.
But not like that. Not in the open as some reckless mistake. If I ever made love to Maria, it wouldn’t be hurried. It wouldn’t be for show. It wouldn’t be in the middle of a goddamn parking lot with cameras flashing.
Why the hell was I even thinking about making love to her? That wasn’t part of our deal. Neither was kissing her like the world didn’t exist.
Yet here I was, thinking about it. Feeling it.
I cursed under my breath. Maybe I was just caught up in the moment. Maybe it was just physical. But something gnawed at me, something I couldn’t ignore. The way she made me feel was familiar.
It had that same fire—that same pull. It was like her lips were the only place I belonged, like that night in the club.
I clenched my jaw, pushing the thought away. That woman didn’t exist. She was a fantasy and a fleeting illusion in the dark. I didn’t even know her name. I had held onto her memory because she had stirred feelings I had only had when I was younger for another woman I couldn’t have. Was that the similarity? But the lady in the club never came back.
But Maria wasn’t a memory. She was here now. She came back.
And she was off-limits. I wasn’t going to cross that line because I wasn’t sure she even wanted me to.
Or maybe it was Matteo holding her back. The thought hit me hard.
Was she hesitating because of her past with his father? I swallowed, my grip on the wheel tightening. If that was the case, then we were both holding onto ghosts that didn’t exist.
I dared not bring it up. That was a line I wouldn’t cross. Some things, once said, couldn’t be unsaid. It would be a hard conversation to have because she had already said it was a fling, but something told me that it wasn’t just a fling for her.
When I pulled into my driveway, Dante was waiting by the front steps, arms crossed like he had something to say. I barely got out of the car before he started. “You’re going to the gala.” He had sent me an email earlier about some gala happening. I didn’t even bother to read it before sending him a strongly worded, NO.
“No, I’m not.” I repeated, hoping this time he wouldn’t push.
“Yes, you are.”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Dante, I have enough on my plate. Maria. Enrico. I don’t have time to go play dress-up and kiss ass all night.” That was exactly what I thought about any gathering of the elites, a place where asses were kissed to get favors.
“Then don’t go for the gala. Go for Maria.”
That made me pause.
