Page 69 of Unruly Obsession
“You’re telling me. I’m surprised he lets me go to the bathroom without him.”
She rolls her eyes. “I can understand his overprotective tendencies. He wouldn’t leave my side after Luca gave him the order.”
A slight pang of sadness hits me, reminding me that this is, after all, a job to Lorenzo. He’s protecting me just like he’d been assigned to do for Ara.
“Well, I’m sure this will all be dealt with soon. Any update from Luca?” I ask, pushing that unsettling feeling away.
I feel like I’m in some weird calm before the storm. I thought I’d be more reactive in this situation, but I must be so exhausted from all the bullshit that went down tonight that I can’t even muster up the energy to be scared.
“Luca says he’ll return to New York soon. Apparently, they have the name of a suspect. Now that they have a lead, it won’t take them too long to get this sorted,” she says confidently.
“That’s good. Good.” Meaning that my time with Lorenzo soon will be coming to an end. I should be glad to hear that I’m no longer in the line of fire because of my association with the Armanis, and yet, it feels bittersweet now that Lorenzo and I are finally on good terms.
“Did I hear you went on a date?” Ara asks curiously as my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I roll my eyes. “Courtesy of my father. I’m just hoping the guy doesn’t mention how Lorenzo plunged a fork into his hand after storming the restaurant.”
Ara’s jaw tightens. “He didwhat? Are you okay?”
I wave it off as I unlock my phone to read the message. “No, Lorenzo’s a psycho.” Yet a small flood of warmth and comfort runs through me, knowing that he came for me when no one else had.
That comfort quickly freezes over at the simple text I receive from my father.
You’re expected to return home tomorrow night.
Fuck.
The storm has finally shown itself, and now it’s up to me to make sure I’m ready for its impact.
29
LILY
“Iwould like to speak with my daughter alone,” my father says, his eyes turning into narrow slits as he looks down on Lorenzo. I cringe at his scathing expression yet find myself standing in front of Lorenzo, almost as if shielding him. He might not be the greatest man with regard to his career choice, and he may not have much of a moral compass, but there’s a sincerity to Lorenzo that deserves to be protected. Because despite those things, he’s the person who’s encouraged my freedom the most, and in a way that those who are already in my corner couldn’t.
My father doesn’t miss the movement, and it only causes his face to twist further in disdain.
“Come this way, Lorenzo. I’d love to show you my roses,” my mother says enthusiastically as she offers to lead him away.
My brother raises his eyebrows and pockets his hands as he precedes them out of the room. Lorenzo is reluctant to leave my side, and I offer him a small smile to let him know I'll be okay and that I understand and appreciate his concern. I know this relationship is fake. That we’re not really together, and it’s all a facade, but the longer it goes on, the more I’m starting to believeit. And the more I'm wanting to. It’s becoming dangerous that I can’t imagine my days without him.
We even decided to stay at his house, and for the first time in years, I took a "sick day," choosing to be railed within an inch of my life all over his house, instead of going into work.
“We won’t be too long,” I promise him.
I’ve thought about how this conversation might go; how I'll advocate to be liberated from my family's expectations. Even if I can’t have Lorenzo after all of this, I won’t let my father choose who I can and can't date.
“I’d like to have a word with you myself afterward, Henrith,” Lorenzo says, and my stomach drops, my courage faltering. The thought of these two men sharing the same room alone terrifies me.
My father says nothing in response, just turns and walks into the family room. The wooden floor is covered with a plush white rug in the center. Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal the afternoon sun, and a long couch and two armchairs surround a beautifully carved table.
“Close the doors behind you,” my father instructs. I do as he says, nervous when I look at the empty glass in his hand. He walks over to the half-empty bottle on the sideboard and fills his glass.
“You’ve humiliated this family. Are you aware of that?” he says with contempt. “Tell me how one simple date with a longtime family friend went so horribly wrong that he now wants nothing to do with me?” His eyes flash with anger as he takes a harsh swallow.
“Father, you need to let me choose who I date and marry. This pressure you’re putting on me lately is too much,” I reply, stepping into my power. It’s time I stood up to my father, for better or for worse. I’ve held on to this family for so long, and what have they done for me? Nothing.
I love my mother—would do anything for her—but the sad reality has been sinking in for a while now, that if she’s not willing to help herself, what can I do? If anything, I’m only turning into her. Denying the truth of what’s in front of me. Continuously breathing in the toxicity, and allowing my father to control me like some puppet.
