Chapter 8
“Get dressed,” Lorenzo commanded, rising from his chair. “We’re going
“Where?”
His silence and slight smirk were my only answer. I headed back upstairs, questions swirling in my mind. Opening the wardrobe in my room, I gasped. Dozens of designer dresses stretched as far as I could see – Valentino, Gucci, Prada, names I’d only dreamed of wearing. The price tags on these could have bought a small house.
My fingers traced over silk, velvet, and beaded fabrics until I settled on a black Versace number that hugged my curves. The mirror reflected back someone I barely recognized – sophisticated, elegant, powerful.
Outside, a line of gleaming black vehicles waited in the circular drive. But what caught my eye was the beat–up Honda Civic parked among them. Lorenzo stood beside it, cutting an imposing figure in his tailored suit… and a black mask covering the upper half of his face.
“What’s with the mask?” I asked, approaching him.
“The world doesn’t know Karlo Heis’s face. I intend to keep it that way.” He extended his hand, offering me an identical mask. “You’ll need this too.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’re with me.” His tone left no room for argument. “And soon, they’ll be looking for you too.”
I took the mask, the smooth material cool against my fingertips. Sliding it on, I caught my reflection in the car window. Like I was becoming someone else entirely.
“The cheap car is part of staying hidden?” I asked.
“Exactly. No one looks twice at a Honda.” He opened the passenger door for me. “The best disguise is often the simplest one.”
I slid into the Honda’s worn leather seat. A sharp crack pierced the air and I jumped, my heart racing.
“Relax.” Lorenzo’s hand found mine, his touch steady and reassuring. “Just security taking care of some drones. Paparazzi get bolder every day.”
Another shot rang out, followed by the distinct sound of something
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metallic crashing into the trees. I peered through the windshield, catching glimpses of men in tactical gear positioned along the property’s perimeter.
The main gates swung open with a low groan. Three identical black Mercedes rolled out in formation, their windows tinted to mirror–like perfection. Within seconds, I heard the telltale sounds of engines revving – paparazzi cars scrambling to follow what they assumed was their target.
We waited. Minutes later, a smaller side gate opened, barely wide enough for our Honda. Lorenzo guided the car through with practiced ease, taking us in the opposite direction of the Mercedes convoy.
I studied his profile, the sharp line of his jaw visible beneath the mask, his hands confident on the steering wheel.
“Who are you really?” I whispered, not expecting an answer. The question felt heavy in the air between us.
He remained silent, focused on navigating the quiet back roads. The mask obscured most of his expression.
“Where exactly are we going?” I tried again, watching unfamiliar streets blur past the window.
Lorenzo chuckled, his eyes staying fixed on the road. “You’ll see.”
The streets gradually shifted from unknown to familiar. My heart rate picked up as I recognized the route. My stomach twisted as realization hit. “We’re going to my old place.”
Lorenzo nodded, his expression unreadable behind the mask.
Bile rose in my throat as images flashed through my mind – Dominic and Camilla probably tangled in our sheets right now, her hair spread across my pillow, her red lipstick staining everything I once called mine.
“Why are we going there?” My voice came out smaller than I intended. “Because I want you to move in with me.” He turned to look at me, his eyes intense even through the mask’s openings. “Pack all of your belongings.”
My breath caught in my throat at Lorenzo’s words. Move in with him? After six years apart? The universe had a twisted sense of humor, throwing us back together like this. But what choice did I have? No money, no place to go – just the clothes on my back and my phone.
“I don’t have my keys,” I mumbled. “Dominic threw me out yesterday with nothing.”
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“Not a problem.” Lorenzo’s mouth curved into that familiar dangerous smile I remembered so well. “We’ll get in one way or another.”
The Honda rolled up the driveway. The modern two–story house loomed before us, all clean lines and large windows. We’d chosen it together, dreaming of a peaceful life away from the corporate chaos. What a joke that turned out to be.
My steps felt heavy as I approached the front door, half–expecting to hear Dominic’s voice or Camilla’s artificial laugh. But the house stood silent. Empty.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Unknown number.
The video started playing before I could stop it. A sex tape. Camilla’s hand held the phone, capturing her and Dominic tangled together in what looked like a luxury hotel room. Her hair spread across white sheets as she smiled directly into the camera as Dominic moved on top of her.
The caption beneath read: “Having fun with my honey”
