Page 57 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
And just like that, I was on the sidelines, watching my son and Lorenzo team up.
It was ridiculous how good they looked together.
Matteo was small but scrappy, darting between kids with surprising speed. Lorenzo was effortlessly blocking throws and catching balls with that irritating confidence of his. I tried to focus on the game. I really did. But my eyes had a mind of their own, drawn to the way Lorenzo moved—fluid and controlled like every step and every motion was calculated but effortless. His shirt clung to his back, stretched over the kind of muscles that weren’t just for show but for strength, and for a second, I learned how to breathe differently, a way that was dependent on the way his tricep moved and sweat dripped down his body.
Matteo threw a ball so weakly it barely made it across, but I hardly noticed. Not when Lorenzo ran a hand through his hair, that smirk playing at his lips, lazy and knowing, like he could feel my gaze on him. And damn it, he was right.
Lorenzo groaned. “Champ, you can do better than that. Here—do it like this.”
He crouched down, showing Matteo how to aim and throw properly. When Matteo tried again, the ball flew straight, knocking a kid out of the game.
Matteo gasped. “I did it!”
Lorenzo held up his hand. “What do we do when we win?”
Matteo hesitated.
Lorenzo smirked. “We gloat.”
Matteo burst out laughing and mimicked Lorenzo’s exaggerated victory pose.
I shook my head. “Terrible influence.”
But I was smiling.
By the end of the game, Matteo was practically glued to Lorenzo’s side. When the final whistle blew, declaring their team the winner, Matteo jumped into his arms.
Lorenzo caught him easily. “We won!”
Matteo beamed. “You’re the best, Lorenzo!”
Something clenched in my chest.
I looked away, pretending to check my phone.
Later, as I grabbed Matteo’s bag and prepared to leave, Lorenzo strolled over, looking far too pleased with himself.
“That was fun,” he said. “Maybe I should become a professional dodgeball player.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. Because that’s a real career.”
“Could be,” he said with a shrug. “Anyway, before you leave—about tomorrow.”
I sighed. “What about it?”
“Our date.”
I blinked. “What date?”
“The one where we remind everyone how in love we are.”
The fake relationship. The public affection. The nonsense I agreed to. Oh. Right. I forgot we were supposed to show a lot of public displays of affection or what I like to call PDA.
I crossed my arms. “Fine. Whatever.”
Lorenzo grinned. “See? You do love spending time with me.”
“Goodbye, Lorenzo.”
