Page 41 of Wicked Prince

Lorenzo is here.

The Rossis are here.

The Rossis are here to meet with Kayleigh's family, which means Lorenzo is...

My throat closes up and I hastily erect a wall to block the realization that should have been obvious the moment these people walked into the room, but denial is the only thing keeping me sane. The only shield I have against a reality I can't stomach.

Not here.

Not now.

Not ever.

"I mentioned that to you earlier, dear," Luca says in a patient tone.

"Oh, yes," Cindy says, a look of recognition crossing her features. She gives me a somewhat pitying smile and takes my hand. If she had any idea. "It's lovely to meet you, dear."

"You, too, Mrs. Rossi," I somehow manage to get out, even though my voice sounds distant and someone else appears to be controlling it.

Somehow, I got to my feet without even realizing it, but I feel like I'm made of ice when she leans in and kisses my cheek. A customary greeting that still feels so foreign to me.

Mr. Rossi extends his hand with a surprising amount of warmth in his eyes, even if it doesn't quite work its way into a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Amelia."

"You as well, Mr. Rossi," I say, my voice cracking a little on that one even if I manage to take his hand as he leans down to kiss my cheek. My hand falls right back to my side when he drops it, and I'm left to wait as the older couple looks expectantly at their son.

Lorenzo is staring at me again, but if he feels even an ounce of my shock, he's a master at not letting it show. One might even say he has a sociopathic level of composure, but why should that come as any surprise?

"It's nice to meet you, Amelia," he says, the stiffness in his tone the only thing betraying that this is anything less than the way he expected this evening to go. I doubt anyone else even notices. His hand twitches at his side like he doesn't know whether he should risk the greeting everyone clearly expects.

Before he can come down either way, or I can decide whether I'm going to respond by slapping him across his perfect face or pushing it all down until the first opportunity I have to run and hide somewhere it's safe to cry, Kayleigh steps in.

"Baby, you're late," she says in a whiny voice, kissing Lorenzo before he has the chance to respond. It's far from a chaste kiss of greeting, and I can tell she'd full-on make out with him in front of everyone if she had the option, but Lorenzo barely returns it and breaks away the first chance he has.

"No, we're not," is all he says. His voice is still stiff, but I know better than to think it's on my account. That he has any hint of decency. He probably just wants to avoid the fallout of getting caught, since the only witness to his betrayal is unexpectedly in the room with him.

A betrayal he made me complicit in.

Kayleigh is clearly disappointed, and she's still pouting by the time everyone has found their seats. I sit back down even though I feel the overwhelming urge to bolt for the door the first chance I get, proving his initial assessment of me right. I feel like a fawn in the middle of a pack of wolves, and all I want to do is escape.

The pleasantries carry on, and fortunately, I seem to have fulfilled my end of the obligation. Dad has only looked over once, and it was to nod his approval, so I guess I passed his test.

Good to know I'm only capable of meeting his expectations when I’m stunned into silence.

The conversation seems like nothing more than static noise, only a few words coming through here and there. Like they're all on some other frequency and I can't tune in no matter how hard I try.

My mind is too full of other things. Thoughts that cycle endlessly.

I don't want to look at Lorenzo again. I don't care what his family thinks or how they feel about me, because now I know the truth.

He used me. He took me for a fool, and that's exactly what I am. That's all it was for him, just a way to pass time before going on with his life as normal, without any real feelings involved whatsoever. I'm trembling inside even though my face is carefully blank, and I can only hope it doesn't show.

Just get through dinner. That's all you have to do. Just get through tonight, and then you can run far, far away and never look back.

Even if that promise will be far more difficult to execute than it is to make, it's the only way I can do this. Telling myself there's a way out. The illusion of control.

I'm trying to think of anything besides Lorenzo's betrayal when the waiter comes over to start taking our orders. By the time he makes his way around to me, I realize I haven't even glanced at the menu. I check it briefly while Dad is giving detailed instructions for how he wants his fillet prepared, and I order the first thing on the list before handing back the menu.

By the time the waiter leaves for the kitchen to put in our orders, I can't even remember what it was. I'm too busy thinking about everything else.

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