"The Sinclairs are a renowned mafia family, our biggest competitors," Lorenzo explained, his voice steady as the meeting wrapped up. "We make our money by lending to people and demanding a high return. We're also in the oil business—selling, reselling—and dabble in real estate. My dad is the face of this business, but that's only publicly."
He paused, giving her a moment to take it all in, then continued. "But that's just our public face. Behind the scenes, I run it all. We handle anything and everything—from freelance hits to selling information, which brings in the most money. Then our relationship" he said as he pointed between the two of them "It's one that fits under the 'political' umbrella. Two powerful families marrying off their children to strengthen their influence."
He finished, his gaze shifting back to Giannis, who was now going over business plans.
It was the most Aemilia had heard him speak.
Lorenzo was only a year older than her, yet he felt so much older. The way he talked, the way he commanded every room, that unshakable confidence he had it all made him seem far beyond his years. If she hadn't met him in school, she would have guessed he was well past his teens. She shook off the thought just as Lorenzo stood up almost knocking her off his lap.
"Come on, amore," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"You've taken in a lot of information. I wouldn't want to bore my fiancée off on her first day."
He reached out a hand to her. She hesitated but then slipped her hand into his, letting him lead her out.
Lorenzo was impossible to pin down. One moment he was icy, unreadable, and the next, he was warm—almost caring... in his own way. The shift was confusing, leaving her wondering which side of him was real, or if he was just that skilled at playing both.
He led her into the kitchen and motioned for her to sit which she obliged.
"You're having dinner with my family tonight," he said, grabbing ingredients from the fridge. "By the time I'm done cooking, all your belongings, including your car, will be here. You can watch me cook, or you can go find my sister. Either way works."
"You cook?" she asked, surprised, as he set a pan on the stove. Though she wondered how was he going to bring all her stuff here, in a hour at the most, she refrained from asking, he's the same person who was sitting in her kitchen one day while she was gone as if he lived there.
"Yeah," he replied, not looking up. "We've got servants for just about everything... except the kitchen. My mamma used to cook for us every night. No matter what, we always had family dinners. When she died, I kept the tradition going."
She paused, his words sinking in. His mother had died? She hadn't known but of course she hadn't, she just met the guy.
"I'm sorry..." she said softly, watching him work. He looked so natural, focused. It was hard not to admire the way he moved, confident and calm.
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the pan. "It's cool, Il mio gattino cieco. It was years ago. Losing her forced me to grow up." He paused, then added, "My pa—he's got a personality that's... different. Kind of like Noemi's." His voice softened. "I love my sister, but she reminds me too much of mamma. I have to protect her, no matter what."
The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. It was so different from the cold, detached side of him she'd first met. They'd had sex before they'd ever had conversations like this, and somehow, this moment felt more intimate.
"I can't imagine," she said quietly, a soft smile pulling at her lips, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "I'm glad you kept the tradition going." She paused, then added, "And your dad isn't weird—just eccentric."
YOU ARE READING
The Blind Deception
Mystery / Thriller"Please..." she began to beg though she didn't know if she was pleading for him to stop or keep going "Please what, amore mio, tell me what is it" he said in a mocking tone, a smirk played its way to his face. His fingers moved at a dangerous pace n...
