Page 51 of Shadowed Loyalty

Lorenzo lifted a hand in reply and smiled up at his boss’s wife. His brothers had thought him a babbo for renting an apartment in the Steins’ building, but he’d just been glad of the good price. He didn’t mind calling his boss his landlord, at least not when it was Mr. Stein. He was a good man to learn from, a good man to have watching over him. And his wife liked to show her fondness in crisp German butter cookies and well-seasoned sausage, which he wasn’t going to complain about either.

A few minutes later Lorenzo had climbed the four flights of stairs, fitted his key in the lock, and turned the knob. He stepped inside, stretching to turn on a lamp as he closed the door behind him. He spotted the figure only when the familiar but out of place voice reached his ears. “It’s about time you got home.”

Shoulders stiff, Lorenzo narrowed his eyes at the redhead who unfolded herself from his couch. She had put aside her jacket to reveal a silk and lace waist whose femininity belied the severe cut of her suit—and whose presence in his locked apartment belied her supposed role in his life. “Miss Gregory? How did you get in here?”

The secretary rolled her eyes. “Your lock’s a simple pin and tumbler—no trouble at all.”

His mouth fell open. “You picked my lock?” That just didn’t fit with his image of the thorough, professional woman who ran the office, even if she did have that amateur-sleuth mentality. Or not so amateur, perhaps.

Miss Gregory chuckled and slid around his couch, trailing a hand over the back of it as she moved toward him. “How else was I supposed to get in? You weren’t home yet, and I know Mr. Stein wouldn’t have used his master key to let me wait for you.”

“Because an unmarried woman has no business waiting in the apartment of an unmarried male acquaintance,” he felt the need to point out. “Which begs the question of why you were so determined to do so that you’d break in.”

She kept advancing, and, not knowing what her intentions could possibly be, he moved into the kitchen, partially to avoid her and partially to tuck the food Sabina had sent home with him into the icebox and cupboards. He turned back around to discover she had followed him, which shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. She stood only a foot away, her slender arms crossed over her chest.

“Well, I’ll tell you, Enzo. That is what everyone calls you, right? I like it. It suits you better than Lorenzo, and certainly better than Mr. Capecce.”

He had never, in the eight months since he had made her acquaintance, heard her beat around the bush even that much. Curiosity seeped through his unease, but he folded his arms over his chest to keep it at bay. “Miss Gregory. Your point.”

“Helen.” She smiled the same bright smile she always gave him, but it looked different in his kitchen—warmer, more personal.

Dangerous.

“Fine. Helen. What are you doing here?”

Her smile faded. “Helping, I hope. I don’t want to see you get hurt again, Enzo.”

Confusion knitted his brows. “When have you seen me hurt to begin with?”

Her answer was to reach out and brush the bandage still protecting the wound on his temple. He drew back from her fingers, arms falling to his sides, but then she just settled her hand over his heart. Had he not just backed himself into the table, he would have fled. As it was, he almost leapt onto it to get away from the unfamiliar touch.

“She broke your heart.” Voice low and vibrating with emotion, Helen raised her chin. “And your association with her almost got you killed. Can’t you see that she’s bad news? I mean, you’re a man of faith, not to mention a lawyer, but you’re associating with criminals!”

Her concern, though too pronounced to be appropriate, was nevertheless sweet. He covered her hand with his so he could pull it away from his chest. Of course, then she just held onto his fingers. “Helen, I appreciate that you’re worried about me. But you really shouldn’t be here.”

“When else am I ever going to get the chance to talk to you? You’re buried in work all day at the office, and it seems like every time you leave, you’re running to the Mancaris’ house to see her or her father.”

“Sabina.” He untangled his fingers. “Her name is Sabina.”

Helen tossed her arms into the air and spun around, stalking away. “As if I don’t know her name! You talk about nothing but Sabina every chance you get.”

“So what?” He pulled out a chair but didn’t sit. She was pacing his way again, and he didn’t really want her to corner him in a chair. “She’s my fiancée, it’s—”

“No.” Too near for comfort again, she poked a delicate but steely finger into his chest. “She was your fiancée. I think she forfeited the honor of that title when she let another man touch her the way she did.”

Lorenzo’s shoulders stiffened, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t know—”

“Yes. I do know. I made it a point to find out, and it wasn’t too hard to track down someone who saw them at one of her father’s speakeasies. Said that man’s hands were places no decent woman would have allowed them to be.”

Had the spark in her eyes been victorious, he would have physically forced her from the apartment, but it was concern that lit them, and an anger that he didn’t understand. She must have counted him as more of a friend than he had ever thought, to be so offended on his behalf. For that reason, he made his tone gentle. “I realize she did wrong, but I’ve made mistakes too. We’ve agreed to give each other another chance.”

Distress flooded into her face and tears into her eyes. “But why? She’s not good enough for you. She doesn’t know how to love you. Don’t do this to yourself again—give me a chance instead.”

He gripped the back of the chair for support, sure he had misheard. “Scusi?”

Tears streamed unchecked down her ivory cheeks, and she was shaking, proving her words cost her. “I love you, Enzo. The moment you walked into the office last year as an intern, I fell for you—but you were engaged. And I knew you loved her. So I tried to forget about it, and I kept my distance. I figured, if she made you happy, I could stay quiet. But not now. This is my only chance, and I deserve it far more than she does. I know how to love you. I could—” She started to say something more, but her tears increased to sobs, choking off her words.

Lorenzo just stared at her, at a complete loss. When Mama cried, he gave her a hug. When they were children and it was Sabina in tears, he’d pat her back and snatch her a sweet from the kitchen. Neither of those options seemed appropriate right now.

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