Page 32 of Wicked Prince

"It wasn't my choice," I finally answer.

He doesn't react. Not visibly, anyway. Instead, he takes a sip of his juice and considers my words calmly. "That's funny. You don't really seem like the type of woman who could be made to do something she doesn't want to do."

"You're right," I say. "So, you can probably imagine the feat of effort it took to get me here."

He chuckles. "That, I can. Tell me, who is the brave soul who managed it? Your father?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Why are you so interested in why I'm here?"

"Because I have a vested interest in making sure you don't leave," he answers without missing a beat. "And the two seem intrinsically connected."

I stare at him in disbelief for a moment, convinced I heard him wrong. When I realize I didn't, I'm even more flabbergasted. All I can do is manage a dry laugh and look away. Suddenly, the butterflies in my stomach have left no room for an appetite, as delicious as the food is.

"You barely know me."

"We slept together," he points out.

I roll my eyes. "Don't pretend like that means anything to you."

"Maybe it didn't," he says thoughtfully. "But things change."

For the second time in five minutes, I'm left stunned into silence. "What do you want from me?" I ask, because I don't know what else to say, and my sanity seems to be uniquely reliant upon the answer.

He considers the question for a few moments, even though I'm sure it's not something he's asked often. "I don't really know," he muses at length. "But I think trying to figure it out could be as interesting as the answer itself."

I give another disbelieving scoff. "I think you're going to be disappointed, Lorenzo. I'm really not that complicated."

"That's interesting in its own way," he retorts. "And just so you know, I don't believe the whole 'I'm a nobody' thing."

"No?" I ask. "Why not? I seem like a hard-boiled mafioso do you?"

He chuckles. "I don't know. I don't think I would put it past you so quickly."

I can't help but smirk. "You really give me too much credit, Lorenzo. But it's flattering."

He seems like he's about to say something else when his phone buzzes on the counter and his expression goes flat. He picks it up and poises his thumb to swipe the notification away, but he casts a double glance at the screen and the way his expression changes makes it clear it's not something he can easily ignore.

"Shit," he mutters.

"The boys need you for an emergency soccer match?" I ask dryly.

He gives me a look, slipping his phone into his pocket. "I have to take care of this, but this conversation isn't over. Stay here. It won't take me an hour."

It has become abundantly clear to me that Lorenzo is accustomed to giving orders and having them followed without question.

It's also become abundantly clear to me that he hasn't yet figured out that doesn't work on me.

And yet, this time, I'm tempted to stick around. It's probably a mistake. No, it's definitely a mistake, but apparently, that isn't something that stops me lately. I think I need to have my common sense meter checked, because something is clearly out of order, and badly.

"I guess I could stick around for a little while."

He seems surprised by the answer, so maybe he has picked up a bit more than he lets on. "Perfect," he says, standing and leaning over to capture my lips before I can process that he's going in for a kiss.

It's briefer than the others, but just as claiming, and it leaves my head spinning all the same.

When he pulls away, his eyes are glimmering with amusement, so I know I look as dazed as I am. "I'll make it worth the wait," he promises.

And with that, he leaves me in his kitchen to wonder what the hell just happened, and, more to the point, what the hell I'm doing.

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