Romanticismo Per Caso ❤

Playing with Fire (Lorena's POV)

After my unexpected panic attack, I decided to take it slow at work.  The following day, I showed up for my shift without informing my parents of the incident, knowing they would disapprove of me working at all.  Sure enough, they asked me what happened last night and I folded and told them the truth.  They expressed their anger with me, but I chose to brush it off because I am tired of their meddling.  

During that shift, I couldn't forget the image of Elias's somber expression from my mind.  I didn't know what was wrong with him, but I wanted to figure it out.  He looked like he hadn't slept at all the night before.  I hoped he was alright and I intended on approaching him when I spotted him.  However, he hurried away before I could initiate a conversation, leaving me perplexed by his sudden leave.  

I hoped and prayed that Elias still thought of me.  I don't know why but when I gazed into his deep blue eyes, I had a strong feeling that he still does.  I miss every time we were together because time just went too quickly.  I wanted to physically drown myself in every moment.  But, the harsh reality is that I don't deserve him.

As the time approached for the dinner I had planned with my parents, I walked to the bathroom to prepare.  I selected a form-fitting blue satin dress that accentuated my form perfectly.  When I gazed at myself, I noticed how unruly my hair was which elicited an exasperated sigh as I attempted to tame it. 

"You can do this, Lorena," I murmured to my reflection in the mirror, bracing myself for the impending confrontation.  Confrontation was never my forte, yet I recognized the need to address my parents' opinions about Elias. "Just ask them why they don't favor Elias, that's all you have to do, Lorena," I reminded myself, wincing when I worked through a stubborn knot in my hair.  

Rolling my eyes at my reflection, I retrieved my purse from the countertop, silently reaffirming my determination.  Standing somewhat tall in my high heels, I surveyed my appearance in the mirror, feeling confident despite the uncertainty coming forth. 

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"Ding dong!"  The doorbell resounded its chime through the house. Adjusting my dress, I watched through the front door's window for my father's reaction.

 "Hello Lorena," he greeted with a small smile, though the remnants of our earlier argument lingered in his gestures.  He always was one to keep a grudge.

"Hi Papa," I stepped inside.  My heels make a click-clack sound as they hit the floor. 

"Lorena," my Mamma started, her focus on setting the table for the evening's meal. The table was enlightened with a red checkered table mat and a beautiful bouquet that added a touch of warmth to the room.  

My Papa nestled himself into his seat at the kitchen table, engrossed in his newspaper.  Weirdly enough, he still found solace in reading those things.  Adjusting his big black glasses above his dark hair, he paused from reading it for a moment.

"You can sit, Lorena," he pointed to a seat, and I obliged with a sigh, taking my place. 

As my Mamma put the last piece of the silverware down, she pulled up a seat for herself.  "So, how are you?" 

"I'm okay, this meal looks wonderful."  I replied, genuinely appreciating her effort.  She made chicken Tetrazzini, one of her favorites.  She never needed my validation on her dishes, but she appreciated it.  This dish was a dish she always took pride in, and tonight was no different.

As we began to dive into the meal, the table was filled with the clinking of utensils against plates.  It was quiet, with only some noise from the living room TV, until my father initiated a conversation.

"Lorena we want you to help out another new worker that will be coming in tomorrow, okay?" He looked up at me, taking the last bite of his meal.  

"Yes I can do that.  What's the person's name?"  I inquired, curious about the new addition to the staff. 

"Her name is Rachel,"  my Mamma smiled at me, then took my plate.  "I can clean it up for you," I offered, trying to be polite.  

"No I've got it piccina," she persisted.  I looked down at my nails as an anxious habit, debating if this was the time to ask them about Elias.  When I heard the water turn off and my Mamma's footsteps back to the table, I cleared my throat and mustered the courage to speak.

My Mamma and Papa both looked at me, confused about why I just cleared my throat abruptly.  After a moment of awkward tension, my Mamma picked up her phone.   

"I want to ask about Elias,"  I stated, my voice filled with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

"What about him?" My Papa leaned in, his interest piqued. 

My Mamma took a deep breath.  She placed her phone down, now fully interested in what I had to say.  

"What's wrong with him?  I mean, I remember calling you guys during that storm, and you all were about to tell me something about him," I pressed, my tone becoming more urgent.

My Mamma exchanges a glance with my Papa before returning her attention to me.  "Hello? I mean, is he some person that's on the dark web or something?  Did he kill someone? I mean tell me!"  I shout. 

"He has a dark past against us," my Papa interjected, his words hanging heavily in the air. "What dark past?"

"His company robbed from small businesses like ours," my Papa explained, his voice tinged with some disappointment.  

"No that can't be," I protested, unable to believe what I was hearing. "Elias wouldn't do that to Offredi's."  I shook my head.

There's no chance.  He wouldn't do that to me.  

Would he? 

"I'm afraid his company has robbed many other small businesses too,"  my Mamma bit her lip.  "It's terrible how the company hasn't been caught yet." 

"Why did you hire him then?"  I questioned, raising an eyebrow.  "We were short-staffed and you know that.  Also, his mother told us to hire him, ignoring his past."  My Mamma's explanation seemed insufficient, leaving me frustrated and confused.

"I can't believe it," I muttered with a huff of disbelief.  "I know, and the worst part was that he tried to tell us that his father did this.  We all know he is lying."  My Mamma said with a slight frown, her words sinking in with unsettling weight.  

"I mean imagine throwing your father under the bus for your crimes," my Mamma whispered, her words hanging heavily in the air, punctuating the gravity of the situation.  

Wait, what?  He said his father did this?  What if his father actually did  rob us?  What if Elias isn't the person I thought he was at all?  The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, shattering my perception of Elias and leaving me with a sense of betrayal and uncertainty.