Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(115)

Absolutely unforgivable.

“How did I what?” Lorenzo asks softly. “Find out about everything?”

I nod with tears streaming down my face.

“I hired one of the best private investigators in the nation to get to the bottom of the case. His methods were expensive but effective.”

“And he connected it back to Trevor?”

“Yeah. There were too many coincidences to ignore.”

“How did your PI figure out it was him of all people?”

A dark look passes over his face.

I don’t like it, so I ask, “What?”

“Will you take my word for it when I say that I’m certain I have the right guy?”

“You don’t want to tell me,” I state, not sure how to feel about that.

“Only because it wasn’t legal.”

“What did you do? Break into the mayor’s house?” I laugh it off, only for the sound to die halfway out of my mouth at the serious look on Lorenzo’s face.

His lips press together. “Not exactly…”

“You know what? I’d rather not know.”

“I thought so.” Some of the tension in his shoulders loosens.

“But if you have evidence, why not come out with it?”

“Michigan has a ten-year statute of limitations for manslaughter, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

My heart sinks. “Fine, but you could tell everyone and prevent him from becoming mayor, right?” There has to be something Lorenzo can do.

He halts his pacing and sits on the edge of the bed, between me and Daisy, with one hand on my calf and the other on our dog.

“Not without admitting my own crimes, I can’t. It isn’t worth the risk, and it would be challenging for people to accept illegally obtained evidence anyway.”

My idea of forcing Trevor to leave town dies. “Oh.”

He offers me a reassuring smile, as if I’m the one who needs comfort, not him, the man running for mayor against the person who killed his parents.

The same man he would have to see for the rest of his life should he choose to stay here because of me.

An arc of pain shoots through me.

“What?” he asks, searching for whatever caused my pinched expression.

“If you lose…” It wouldn’t affect him because of his ego like I had falsely assumed but because he would lose to the person who took already took everything away from him.

Of course he can’t live here if that happens, in a town where people let him down yet again.

His gaze flickers across my face, and wrinkles of concern appear across his forehead. “Don’t worry about that.”

“How can I not?”

“Because we have five weeks left and I finally caught up to him in the polls.”

“He killed your parents, Lorenzo. That’s...” My eyes burn from unshed tears. “I completely understand why you don’t want to stay, and I would never ask you to.” I look down at my lap in shame. “I wish you’d told me sooner.” The last sentence comes out as a whisper.

I would’ve never given him such a hard time about leaving if I had known, and the guilt is eating me alive. “I’m sorry for treating you the way I did—”

“You’re not allowed to blame yourself.” He scoots me over and pulls me into his arms. “You didn’t know because I didn’t want you to, so anything you said or any way you acted was completely justified.”

I nestle deeper into his chest and mumble the words that have been lying on the tip of my tongue. “If you lose, you shouldn’t stay.”

His arms wrapped around me stiffen. “I am.”

“No.” I fight like hell not to cry. “You can’t.” I won’t let him, which is why I say, “There are other towns nearby where we can have a fresh start.”

“We?”

“Yeah, we. Do you have a problem with that?”

He looks at me like he isn’t sure what to do with me.

Same.

He shakes his head.

“Good,” I say. “Then let’s focus on winning and take it from there.” I hope to change the subject with a quick pat on his chest.

He kisses the top of my head before reaching for the remote. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Something happy, please.”

He flips through the channels before landing on a nineties comedy about a girl with a computer-operated closet full of amazing outfits and an interest in playing matchmaker for two teachers.

“The things I would do for a closet like that,” I say as I watch the blonde girl pick out her outfit for the day.

He smirks. “That could be arranged.”

“Speaking of closets…” I tilt my head back so I can look up at him. “When are we going to talk about yours?”

He raises the volume like an ass.

“I saw all the clothes,” I speak louder.

“Mm-hmm,” he replies.

“Were you planning on showing me anytime soon?”

“Not until you told me you love me.”

“Why?”

“I’m not interested in buying your love. Where’s the fun in that?”

“I already love you, so that’s not possible.”