All Yours

XXIII

AURORA

Lorenzo sits on the bed, pulling me gently into his lap, his hands resting lightly on my waist. His touch is steady, and grounding, as if he knows it's the only thing keeping me from falling apart. My legs straddle him awkwardly at first, but he adjusts me effortlessly, his eyes never leaving mine. 

There's no pressure in his gaze, no urgency to force the story out of me—just a quiet patience that somehow makes the knot in my chest tighten and loosen all at once.

Tears still cling stubbornly to my cheeks, and I can feel their cold trails even as the warmth of Lorenzo's palms provides some semblance of comfort. I take a shaky breath, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne—a scent I've come to associate with safety. It's almost enough to steady me, almost.

His thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly, his silent way of letting me know he's here, waiting, not pushing. Why does he have to be so perfect in moments like these? The thought makes my chest ache, but it also propels me forward, nudging me to find the words I need to explain what happened.

I glance down at his hands, the veins running along them prominent, and strong, and I can't help but think back to all the times he's said he'd protect me. When Lorenzo claimed that Ivan could never compare to him, I thought he was just being his usual arrogant self. 

But now? Now I'm starting to see the truth in his words. There's something about the way Lorenzo carries himself, the way he's always watching over me. Maybe he was right after all.

I take another deep breath and begin.

"Make sure you come straight back here, okay?" Lorenzo's voice had been firm, his green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, offering a small smile to Alessandro and Giovanni before slipping away toward the restroom. It wasn't hard to find—the neon-lit sign glowed dimly above a long hallway. But the path leading there? It felt eerie, with its black-painted walls and blood-red carpet. The dim lighting didn't help either, casting shadows that danced ominously along the narrow corridor. The whole place screamed vampire lair, and I couldn't shake the chill that crept up my spine.

I noticed a staircase at the end of the hallway, its presence unsettling. There hadn't been any sign of a second floor from the outside of the building. I didn't dwell on it, though. My focus was on getting in and out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. Lorenzo's words about Alessio lingered in my mind, a warning I couldn't shake.

Inside the restroom, I moved fast—did my business, and washed my hands in record time. As I was finishing up, a striking woman with vibrant red hair emerged from the farthest stall, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. 

She stumbled slightly before steadying herself at the sink next to me. Her reflection in the mirror caught mine, and she smiled briefly before focusing on fixing her hair and adjusting her low-cut top.

There was something off about her, though I couldn't pinpoint what. Maybe it was the haze in her eyes or the way she seemed too focused on herself as if trying to mask something.

Shaking off my unease, I headed for the exit. My heart quickened as I opened the door, Lorenzo's warning echoing louder in my mind. As I stepped into the dim hallway, a shadow flickered in the corner of my vision. I turned, my pulse racing, and saw two figures standing near the staircase.

One of them was unmistakable.

Alessio.

His dark eyes locked onto me, and a slow, predatory smile stretched across his face. My breath caught in my throat as I took a hesitant step backward, my instincts screaming at me to retreat toward the safety of the crowd.