Page 36 of The Seventh Circle
"And what about your bride?" I asked. "Your father's expectations? The life that's been planned for you since birth?"
Lorenzo's jaw tightened. "I don't have all the answers. But I know I can't give you up. Not without trying to find another way."
I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, the brush of the night air against my face. Images from the day flashed through my mind—the peaceful villa where we'd first kissed, the derelict courtyard slick with blood, Paolo's satisfied expression, Lorenzo's stricken one.
"I can't give you up either," I finally said. "God knows I should. For my family's sake, for my own. But I can't."
Lorenzo leaned forward until his forehead rested against mine. "Then we find a way through this. Together."
"How?"
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But I'll think of something. There has to be a path for us that doesn't end in blood."
I wanted to believe him. Standing there on that rooftop, with the city spread beneath us like a field of stars, it seemed almost possible. But in the back of my mind, I could still hear the scout's screams, could still see Paolo's knife flashing in the dim light.
Whatever path we found, it wouldnot be an easy one. And the price of failure would be measured in blood—mine, or worse, my family's.
Yet as Lorenzo's lips found mine in the darkness, I knew I would pay any price for these stolen moments of truth in a world built on lies.
10
LORENZO
Islipped out of the house before dawn, unable to bear another minute under that roof. The satisfaction in my father's eyes last night as he'd spoken of the "effective message" we'd sent to Torrino still turned my stomach. Even more unbearable was the knowledge that today I would sit across from Sophia Vitelli's father and discuss our future together as if I had every intention of honouring such an arrangement.
The streets were quiet, just beginning to stir with early market vendors and laborers heading to their posts. I kept my head down, cap pulled low. Being recognized as a Benedetto would defeat the purpose of this escape. The purpose—if I was honest with myself—was to reach the only place where I could breathe freely.
Villa San Michele.
I walked quickly through the awakening city, past shutteredcafés and sleeping tenements. The heavy weight that had settled on my chest since witnessing yesterday’s butchery eased slightly with each step that took me farther from the Benedetto compound. By the time the crumbling walls of the villa came into view, silhouetted against the pale morning sky, something inside me had loosened enough to allow a full breath.
I approached cautiously, scanning the area for any sign of watchers or trespassers. Finding none, I slipped through the gap in the wall and made my way across the overgrown garden.
I was halfway to the villa's entrance when I noticed the door was slightly ajar.
My hand went instinctively to the knife in my coat pocket as I approached. Then I caught a glimpse of movement through the gap—a familiar silhouette moving inside.
Antonio.
Relief flooded through me. I pushed the door open wider, and there he was, standing in the dusty entrance hall, looking as startled to see me as I was to see him.
"Lorenzo," he said, my name a breath of surprise. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Nor I you," I admitted, closing the door behind me. "I couldn't face them this morning—not with that meeting looming over me."
Antonio nodded, understanding without explanation. "I left a note for my mother saying I had early collections."
We stood there, uncertain, the air between us still charged despite our conversation on the rooftop. He looked tired, shadows beneath his eyes suggesting he'd slept no better than I had.
"I spent all night thinking about what we said," I began, moving past Antonio into the main room. Sunlight streamedthrough the broken roof, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air. "About finding another way."
"And?" Antonio followed, keeping a careful distance.
I turned to face him. "My father called me into his study after you left. Paolo had already reported to him about our... discomfort... during the Torrino business."
Antonio's expression darkened. "What did your father say?"
"He's accelerated the timeline with the Vitellis." I watched Antonio's face carefully as I delivered the news. "The meeting today isn't just preliminary discussions anymore. He expects me to formalize an engagement by the end of the week."
