❝I would burn for all eternity to feel your touch once more.❞
Former mafia member now turned barista, Lorenzo Castello, is running away from his family to grieve a sudden loss when he meets a paramedic with no impulse control that turns his world up...
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"SO, YOU'RE ITALIAN, huh?"
Lorenzo looked up from where he was silently doodling on a napkin to pass time, only to meet the flirty brown eyes of the person standing across him. A surprised sound escaped his lips, her words taking him by surprise and then, he chuckled to hide his anxiousness.
Fuck, what was he supposed to do? What was the story he had thought of while he was travelling there? And how did he use his mouth to speak? Because it felt like the English and Italian vocabularies, he had learnt in his whole life had disappeared and his mind was empty.
Damn, she was beautiful.
Her brown wavy hair was up in a casual bun and this time, her face was bare of any trace of makeup. She wore a navy-blue shirt with the letters S.F.F.D on it and her name under them along with the same colour pants and black boots. She looked ready to take down anything that came in her way and that – in his very humble opinion – made her incredibly hot.
It took her looking at him weirdly and her also clearing her throat for him to actually remember she had asked him something. He placed his pen down, his throat feeling extremely dry for some reason. He gave her a polite smile as he tried hiding how nervous he was.
What was the question again?
Oh, right!
"Um, sort of – No, I mean – yeah, I'm half-Italian actually," He cursed himself under his breath for acting so nervous. Lorenzo had a theory about her; she was either just another girl that was into him for his looks or his father had found out and sent her as a secret agent to kill him for leaving Italy. He knew the latter was a little far-fetched but still, he felt sweat start forming on his forehead and hands just from the thought. He felt like everything was coming to an end – he would either die or his father would get him to move back to Italy. It was like his mind was made up; she was a spy, there was no other explanation. He couldn't think straight for a minute, it felt like someone put all his thoughts in a blender.
Instead of prying more information like he thought she would, she only laughed and placed her hand over his on the counter. He turned his stare to their joined hands and then, back at her and then, back to their hands. What the fuck was going on? He went to speak but she beat him to it.
"That's great! I'm half-Italian too! On my mother's side obviously," she pointed on her name that was evident on her shirt, "Martin isn't really an Italian name like..." she closed her eyes as she tried to think of a random last name from Italy. He stiffened, the hair in his arms standing up. This was it; this was how she was going to expose him to everyone.
He gulped as he tried thinking of something to say. Maybe if he suggested something first, she wouldn't know how to answer. Think of an Italian name, think, think! Oh, come on, what's wrong with me? He thought as he tried coming up with a random name. There are like thousands of last names, how could he forget them all? So many celebrities, so many athletes he knew but he could come up with nothing.
