Page 105 of I'm sorry, Princess
“I know that every time you smile, there’s a small dimple on your right cheek.” His gaze flickers down to my lips, lingering a second too long. My breath catches.
“I know you spend most of your time reading,” he continues, “and that you always order a decaf caramel latte with oat milk.”
My heart skips a beat.
How the hell does he know that?
He doesn’t stop. He just watches me, amused, entertained by my shock.
“I know that most of the time, you’re all rainbows and unicorns, going to work, then to the gym.”
I swallow hard.
He’s been watching me.
Or worse, he has people watching me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but the worst part?
I don’t feel scared.
I feel exposed.
Like he’s peeling back the layers of me, one by one, leaving me bare under his gaze.
Then, his expression shifts, his smirk fades, replaced by something darker, something colder.
His eyes roam over my face, slower this time.
“And I know how much makeup you usually wear.”
I freeze.
His fingers graze my cheek, soft, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he’s looking at me now.
“Tonight, you’re wearing more than usual.” His voice is lower now, sharper. “And I want to know why.”
My stomach twists painfully. The room suddenly feels too small, too quiet.
The bruise.
My father’s envelope burns in my bag, but my body burns under Lorenzo’s stare.
I can’t let him see it.
I can’t let him know.
I shift slightly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Maybe I just wanted to look good tonight.”
His jaw tightens, and I can tell, he doesn’t believe me.
He doesn’t need to say it.
His silence is enough.
Chapter Thirty
Lorenzo
The party was a fucking success, not that I gave a shit. All I wanted was to get the hell out of there. But there was one thing I couldn’t brush off, the fucking fear in her eyes when her father called her away.
