Page 17 of King of Omen

‘Bianca and I were tight, more so in my adulthood, when I was mature enough to appreciate her kindness and grace,’ he grated, choosing his words with care.

The depth of meaning jarred me in his rumbled bass that implied layers of complexity and deep grief beneath the surface.

I furrowed my brow. ‘You seem familiar with loss,’ I ventured with caution, unsure how he’d react to my statement.

Lorenzo’s expression darkened for a second before smoothing into a mask of neutrality. ‘We all carry our burdens.’

The weight of loss fell once more, creating a complex tapestry of emotions in me that threatened to overwhelm me once more.

‘I’ll miss her so much,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t know how I’ll be able to look at life the same way without her.’

He gave me a long look, tagging the shimmer in my eyes. ‘Don’t take life too seriously, bella. Nobody gets out alive anyway.’

I slow-blinked at him, then gasped as the meaning of his words hit home.

When his lips turned up, I jolted, a bubble of laughter rising in me.

‘We all have our problems, beautiful,’ he drawled on. ‘The only people without any are those in cemeteries.’

I burst out in giggles, scrambling for his kerchief, which I clapped to my mouth to stop my chortle from reaching the house.

The dams broke then, and I laughed long and hard, shaking into my silk-lined palm until tears leaked.

I wiped them off, all the while glaring at him as his lips quirked at me.

‘You did that on purpose,’ I finally breathed. ‘I can’t stop laughing no matter how morbid it is.’

‘My work here is done.’

In that instant, we locked eyes. This uplifted moment in the midst of our shared loss created an unspoken bond between us, bridging the gap between strangers brought together by shared grief.

I was drawn to his ability to navigate the complexities of loss with quiet strength. He appeared to understand grief in a way that hinted at a hidden pain.

Despite his enigmatic facade and the secrets, a depth of character lay hidden beneath his steely exterior.

‘I appreciate you sitting with me and lifting my mood,’ I murmured, unsure how else to express my gratitude for his unexpected humour.

Lorenzo inclined his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Our gazes clashed as I flushed, overwhelmed with emotion.

His was searching and seismic, and I was struck again by his commanding presence, underlying menace, strength, and self-possession.

At that moment, I wondered again what Bianca had meant when she asked me to take care of him in her letter.

Also, why did she leave me a tiny white gold and diamond amulet in the shape of a small hand closed, with the thumb between the index and middle finger?

Secrets, omens, potent pointers to a message from beyond the veil that I’d yet to discern.

Chapter 4

MIA

The fading light cast long shadows across the garden, painting everything in hues of gold and amber.

Calm descended as we sat in silence.

After a beat, I rose. ‘I need to head back inside.’

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