Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
He slides his arm around my back and lifts me like I weigh nothing. I clutch his shoulders, fingers digging into him as he starts toward the door.
I cling to Lorenzo tighter as the night air hits my wet cheeks. “I thought you were going to kill him.”
Lorenzo’s laugh rumbles under my cheek. “Oh, he’s going to die.”
“He is?”
He pauses, just for a second, his grip tightening. “He betrayed me. But worse . . . he betrayed you.”
“He thought he was protecting me.” The words taste wrong, but they’re true in the saddest way.
Lorenzo’s jaw flexes. “Doesn’t matter to me. My only job in life is now to keep you safe. And I will do anything to make sure that happens.”
Before I can say another word, he opens the back door of the car and settles me into the seat. Then he climbs in beside me.
He doesn’t let go.
Not once.
We wait for a few minutes. And I don’t know what happens inside that cottage, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. It’s not long before Rafe steps out of the door and heads to the car. Then he starts to drive.
My head rests on Lorenzo’s shoulder, and his hand stays on my thigh, anchoring me to reality. I press closer because the fear hasn’t left my bones yet, and his presence is the only thing making the world feel real.
By the time his estate appears, my body is exhausted, and my eyes burn.
Lorenzo lifts me again when we arrive, carrying me inside. He takes me upstairs.
To his room.
He sets me on the bed and crouches in front of me, hands on my knees.
His gaze searches my face. “From now on, you stay with me.”
I nod. “I’m not leaving you ever again.”
His throat works like he wants to say something else. But instead, he leans in and presses his forehead to mine for one brief second.
Then he pulls back, jaw hard. “Try to sleep,” he orders.
My fingers catch his sleeve. “Don’t go.”
His gaze drops to my hand. It looks like he’s waging a war within himself. Can whatever he needs to do wait? He must decide it can because he climbs into the bed beside me.
I curl on my side, watching him through heavy lashes.
He looks wrecked.
“Thank you.” Those are the last words I remember saying before my eyes close as my exhaustion pulls me under.
And the last thing I hear, right before sleep takes me, is his voice. “No one takes what’s mine.”
And somehow . . .
I believe him.
62
Lorenzo
Victoria shifts in my arms. “What time is it?”
“Around two in the morning.”
“Seriously, and you’re still here?”
“Yep.” I glance down at her, letting my mouth twitch. “Did you really think I was going to leave you? I told you never again.”
Her cheeks flush in half indignation, half something that makes my blood heat. “You’re insane.”
“I’ve been called worse,” I respond.
She lets out a chuckle.
A small piece of hair falls across her face, and I reach out and tuck the strand behind her ear.
“I need pj’s,” she blurts out, which isn’t surprising, seeing as she’s still wearing her jeans.
I lift a brow. “You can sleep naked.”
“Not happening. But nice try.”
“Grab a shirt.” I nod toward my dresser. “Something comfortable.”
She slides off the bed, moving toward the dresser. She pulls open the top drawer, riffling through my black tees. Then she pauses. She pulls her hand out of the drawer. A small stone sits in her palm.
Her head turns slowly, eyes finding mine. “Why do you have rocks in your room?” Her brows furrow as she pulls the drawer open fully and looks inside.
Dozens of stones, all different sizes and shapes, are in the drawer.
“Are these from my parents’ beach?” she whispers.
I nod once. My throat suddenly too tight for words.
“Why have you been leaving me rocks? You did it years ago too.”
I drag a hand over my mouth, half laugh, half exhale. “You really want the answer?”
She stands slowly, stone still in her hand. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
I take the stone from her gently, rolling it between my fingers.
“Penguins,” I say.
She blinks. “I’m sorry?”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “When I was young, maybe six or seven, I watched one of those shows on TV. The ones about animals. We were moving around a lot back then . . . now I know why, but at the time, I was confused and sad, and well, I saw this one episode.” I stop for a second, and even years later, I can see it clearly in my mind. “This episode was about penguins. Penguins pick a rock. One rock. They search for it. They bring it to their mate.” My gaze lifts to hers. “It’s how they say ‘this is it.’”
Her breath hitches in her chest.
“They keep doing it,” I continue, voice lower now. “Every year. Same mate. New rock. Even when it’s hard. Even when they lose each other for a while. At the time when I saw it, I knew I wanted that . . . and so, when I met you . . . “