Page 178 of I'm sorry, Princess
So I kept dancing.
And maybe that’s the alcohol speaking. Maybe it’s just me being drunk, foolish, and heartbroken. But maybe, just maybe, it’s the truth. Because no matter how much I try to fight it…
I don’t want freedom from Lorenzo Moretti.
I want the chains.
And I’m sure we can work this out. I just need to find him, tell him what’s in my heart, that I love him, that he loves me, and that together we can fix this mess. God, I need to go down.
“I think I need the toilet,” I tell Sienna, clutching my stomach. My head spins, the alcohol hitting me harder than I thought. Nausea claws up my throat.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Sienna asks, but her eyes aren’t on me anymore. They’re fixed on a shadowin the corner of the club. Knox. I’d swear it’s him, watching her like a predator. But my mind is too foggy to focus.
“I’ll be fine,” I manage, forcing a smile. “Will I see you in ten minutes?”
“Call me if you get sick,” she says, but I watch her veer straight toward the blond man.
The music pulses through me, too loud, too heavy, every beat making my stomach twist. Why the hell did I wear these heels? Each step feels like knives stabbing my feet, the dizziness making it worse. My body screams at me to sit, to breathe, but my heart screams louder.
Lorenzo.
I miss him.
I need to find him. To tell him that I love him. That I can’t do this without him. I don’t care if it’s the alcohol talking, I know the truth. He owns me. He always will.
But as I scan the crowd, my heart sinks. No familiar face. No Andres. No Lev. No sign of Lorenzo. The shadows feel heavier without them. Should I go to his suite? He won’t be there. He’s never where I expect him to be.
The club doors slam behind me, and the night air cuts into me like a blade. I close my eyes and inhale. The cold breeze bites at my skin, chasing away some of the fog. Couples press against walls around me, mouths fused, hands greedy. Every kiss I see feels like a knife twisting deeper into me. Because I only think of him. Only want him.
And then I see it.
A door at the back of the club. Half-hidden. Unmarked.
Curiosity pulls me forward, reckless and drunk. What’s the worst that could happen?
I push it open.
The music from above rattles the stairs, the bass making the walls vibrate. Each step down feels like descending into another world, the air thicker, colder,darker. My heels click against the concrete, and I curse myself for wearing them, for being stupid enough to come down here.
And then I see him.
Lev. Standing in front of a door, his massive frame blocking the way. His hands… bloody. Soaked in crimson up to his wrists. My stomach flips.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice trembling. The sight makes me sick, it’s not his blood, I know it instantly. But whose?
“You should go, Serena.” His voice isn’t playful. It’s sharp, heavy, a warning. He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the exit. His grip is strong, unyielding, nothing like the clownish, teasing Lev I know. His eyes are hard, but for a moment, they soften when they catch mine. “This isn’t a place for you.”
“Is Lorenzo in there?” My voice breaks, my heart already knowing the answer.
“No.” His response is flat. Too quick. A lie.
“I don’t believe you.” I yank my wrist free, desperation clawing at me. “Move.”
“Serena, for fuck’s sake.” He groans, frustration and pity warring on his face. “Just leave. Please.”
But the word “please” is too late. The second his grip loosens, I run. Straight past him.
“Serena—!”
