Page 45 of I'm sorry, Princess
A knock rattles the door and every cell in my body goes rigid.
No. No. No. Please not now.
“Serena?” Ian’s voice. Oh shoot.
I scramble to straighten my clothes, checking my buttons, wiping at my mouth like I’m guilty, because I am. Ian steps inside, already analyzing the room like he smells sex in the air.
“Yes. We finished early,” I say, forcing the words out with a tight smile.
Not a total lie.
His eyes narrow. “Did he behave?”
Why does that question sound more like a trap than concern?
I nod too quickly. “Yes. Nothing interesting happened.”
Lie.
“I asked him a few questions about his thoughts, his stay here, basic assessment stuff.”
Lie.
“He wasn’t very responsive. Just one-word answers. Honestly, it was a little boring.”
Biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Ian stares at me for a beat too long, like he knows something is off but can’t quite place it. Finally, he checks his phone. “Alright. I’ll report that to your father. Let me know immediately if he says anything strange or threatening.”
That does it.
The pressure boiling inside me snaps and I cross my arms, tired of pretending. “What’s the deal with you, myfather, and him? Why do you all care so much about every damn word that comes out of his mouth?”
Ian blinks, visibly surprised by my tone. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I’m just following orders. My father told me to keep a close eye, so... I do.”
So John is involved too. Of course.
We step out of the room and instantly the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I feel it before I see it, that unmistakable, heavy weight of his gaze.
He’s watching me.
There he is. Lorenzo. Standing near the window like a king in a cage, cigarette in hand, the smoke curling around his head like it’s afraid of him too. His eyes lock on mine, dark and intense and far too amused.
His smirk? Devil-made.
The freaking audacity, like I’m his dirty little secret and he’s proud of it.
I glare at him, hard. Don’t look away first, I tell myself.
He winks.
Asshole.
I tear my gaze from his and storm past without acknowledging him again. If I look back, I’ll melt into the floor. If I speak, I’ll scream.
Today didn’t happen.
Today didn’t freaking happen.
