Page 76 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
“Excuse me?” I glanced at him, perplexed.
“You’re barely holding your head up. If I leave you to eat on your own, you’ll probably drown in the soup.”
“I am not a child,” I protested weakly.
“Then stop acting like one and eat.”
Before I could argue, he lifted the spoon to my lips. I hesitated, glaring at him, but he didn’t back down. With a dramatic sigh, I let him feed me. The warm broth slid down my throat, soothing the ache.
“Good?” he asked.
I grumbled something incoherent but kept eating. He continued feeding me, his movements surprisingly gentle, his gaze focused. It was oddly intimate. Too intimate. I looked away, pretending I didn’t notice the way my chest felt too tight.
When the bowl was empty, he set it aside and leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
“You just like bossing me around,” I muttered, sinking deeper into my chair.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But it’s for your own good.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence. Outside, the rain had started again, soft against the window. Lorenzo stayed, sitting across from me, his presence oddly grounding. I pulled my duvet tighter around myself, watching him. The thought about his conversation from last night still lingered in my mind, especially after seeing this soft and caring side of Lorenzo. Maybe I had misunderstood him, but I needed to know. Talking about his father was one conversation I have tried to have so many times. The last time was during the date at the restaurant, and it didn’t end up well.
“You never talked about your mother’s illness,” I murmured, testing the water. His expression didn’t change, so I added, “Especially after your dad’s death and the role it played in it.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. He looked at me for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. “Because there’s not much to say.”
“You always say his death hit you hard. But you never say how hard it was, especially with your mom being sick. It has always had me wondering what you had to go through.”
His fingers tapped against his knee, a sign that he was debating whether to answer. Finally, he spoke. “After he died, everything changed. People thought my mother would be easy to push around and that I was too young and too weak to do anything about it. They underestimated her. And they underestimated me.” His voice was low and rough.
I swallowed. “So, you had to fight.”
“Fight?” He let out a dry chuckle. “More like survive. When dealing with beasts, Maria, you become one. Otherwise, they tear you apart.”
His words sent a chill through me. There was something in his eyes—not just pain, but steel. A man who had learned too early that kindness wasn’t enough.
“If you could go back,” I whispered, “would you change anything?”
His gaze locked onto mine. “No.”
The room went still. I knew better than to press because I had already gotten the answer I wanted. It wasn’t the direct one I was looking for, but him saying you have to become a beast to deal with one told me enough.
Then, after a moment, he turned the question back on me. “You never talk about your father, either. What was he like after I left? Did he change?”
I let out a slow breath. “Distant. Business always came first. He didn’t really change from the man we all knew him to be. He wanted me to be a certain type of woman—quiet and submissive. That was never going to happen.”
Lorenzo smirked. “No, it wasn’t.”
“He loved me in his own way,” I admitted. “But his way of showing it was control. Hence, the whole marriage clause.”
“And your mother, I know she died, but do you think that affected you in more ways than you admit?”
My fingers curled into the duvet. “She died right after I was born. I never knew her. So, I never really grew up with the soft kind of love. I always had men around who wanted to control me.”
Lorenzo leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. “That must have been hard.”
I forced a smile. “You can’t miss what you never had, right?”
His eyes darkened. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”
