Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(32)

She continues when I don’t speak. “I asked you about him the other day, and you lied to me.”

I wince.

“I knew it was weird when he randomly fixed your car, but I took your word for it when you said it wasn’t a big deal. And then when you told us about him driving you home and taking care of you, I ignored my gut because there’s no way you wouldn’t tell me about a guy you were dating, right? Because we tell each other everything.”

“You didn’t tell me about Julian right away.” In fact, I only found out about them because I caught them kissing.

“At least you didn’t have to wait very long to find out, and even if you hadn’t seen us that day, I would’ve told you once I knew what was happening.” Her words puncture my heart from ten different angles.

“You’re right,” I say earnestly. “I’m sorry.”

She can’t even look at me anymore. “I thought we were close—”

“We are.” My voice shakes.

“Then tell me why you didn’t talk to me about the city council letter.”

I flinch. “Mom told you about it?”

“Yes.”

“She could get in trouble,” I grumble.

“Which is why I plan on keeping it a secret. Something you should be familiar with.”

My stomach sours. “If you knew, then why did you bring up the Pressed Petal tonight?”

“Because it’s happening, whether it be on Lavender Lane or somewhere else in town.”

Emotion clogs my throat.

She continues, “But that’s not important right now. Your relationship with Lorenzo is.”

If only she knew the two issues go hand in hand. I’m tempted to admit the truth, especially now that our mom told her about the letter, but I can’t until I speak to Lorenzo. Our situation requires some level of trust, and this is an opportunity for me not to betray his.

Even though he totally deserves it.

She rubs her temple. “I’m still having a hard time believing it.”

Same. “I wanted to tell you. I really did.” I’d been dying to talk to Dahlia about the Eros app and who I met, but I always found the perfect excuse not to.

First she was dealing with her own breakup, so it felt selfish to talk about a guy I was interested in. Part of me was nervous too, which was clearly justified given how Lorenzo broke things off. And then there was Richard, who made everything ten times worse.

After all that, I was too ashamed to talk about any of it, including how much I disliked myself.

“How long has this been going on?” she asks.

“Almost a year.” I sink deeper into the seat.

“A year?” She groans. “God, Lily.”

“I’m sorry.” For not telling you the truth then and for lying to you now.

“I—” Dahlia shakes her head. She looks like she’s about to say something else, but she remains quiet as she pulls out of the parking spot instead.

Neither of us plays any music, so I’m left to stew in my unpleasant thoughts during the ride home. I knew Dahlia would be upset, because if the roles were reversed, I’d be just as hurt, if not more, but witnessing her pain gives me a whole new type of sister guilt.

Halfway through the quiet drive, I think about coming clean. I don’t want Dahlia to be upset with me, but when I open my mouth, I slam it shut.

Wait until you speak to Lorenzo.

After she pulls into the driveway of our house and parks the car, she turns to face me. “Tomorrow morning you need to tell Mom about Lorenzo. It’s not right to make her find out the news from someone else.”

I clench my hands into fists. “I know.”

All I can hope is that she doesn’t connect the buyout letter to my relationship with Lorenzo. And even if she questions it, she’d write it off as a coincidence, choosing to believe the more plausible story.

Because who in their right mind agrees to a fake relationship?

Oh, right.

Me.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Lorenzo


Once Lily disappears inside Dahlia’s car, Julian stalks me back to tonight’s ride—a vintage Jaguar two-seater like the one my dad was always repairing for the Hawthorne family. While my mom managed their wealthy lakefront estate, my father worked odd jobs around town to provide for us.

Mechanic. Italian tutor. Firearms instructor, travel agent, and occasional bartender.

The life he had in Lake Wisteria was a far cry from his extravagant upbringing, but my mom—a military brat who believed in law and order—didn’t want to expose a child to the Vittori lifestyle. Around the world, our surname is feared as much as it is loathed, so she moved back to the only place that ever felt safe.

Still to this day, I don’t understand how my father managed to go from a billionaire casino heir to a small-town nobody who was fixing luxury cars instead of driving them, but I suppose his hyperfixation with making my mother happy had a way of manipulating his mind.

Then again, I’m running for public office because of my fixation with avenging my parents, so it’s not like I can judge.

“Lorenzo,” Julian says to my back.

I turn and lean against the car. “Yes?”

He retains a few feet of distance. “How much will it cost me?”