Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(51)

“Because you’re unusually quiet tonight.”

Talk to me about Daisy, I say in my head.

Tell me why she matters to you so much, I add.

Any iteration of the question makes me sound like I care too much. Like I’m snubbed because she chose to lean on Rafa for help instead of me.

Nothing about our agreement requires us to share everything about ourselves, so I have no right to private information.

Yet I want to know anyway, and I hate myself for it.

Her lips go from pursing to flattening into a thin line. “You know, I am capable of being silent sometimes.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you to be.” My comment is followed by a pause full of crackling tension.

Lily’s gaze is hot on my face. “Why not?”

“I’ve come to enjoy your rambling.”

“Is this your discreet way of telling me you like the sound of my voice?”

“Depends. Is this your discreet way of asking if I do?”

She cracks a smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen all day from her, and it fills me with a relief I have no business feeling in the first place. “Maybe.”

I tip her head back so I can get a clear look at her eyes. “If you want an answer, then ask the question.” An interesting piece of advice coming from the man who won’t bring up Daisy, but I’m nothing if not consistent when it comes to not revealing my cards.

It takes Lily a moment to reply, and I should’ve known it was because I wouldn’t appreciate her next line of questioning.

“Why do you care if I’m quiet?” she asks.

I walked myself into this trap, so I need to deal with the consequences of my honesty. “Because that means you’re upset, and I’ve come to realize I don’t like that.”

She smiles to herself, like she is in on a joke I’m not privy to.

“What?” I ask, somewhat affronted by her amusement.

“Nothing.” Her eyes fall to her lap again and that damn phone.

I tangle my fingers in her hair and force her to look at me. “Tell me.”

“So you can run away when shit gets too real? I think not.”

“I don’t run away. I…”

“Flee?” she teases, and I’m motivated to do something about that smirk on her face.

I turn her ponytail into a rope, winding it around my hand until her head tilts in my direction. She tries to pull away, but she can’t go anywhere.

“Look who’s fleeing now.” I smile.

Her eyes darken, and I want to drown in their inky depths, only to have that thought interrupted by a car pulling up next to us.

Lily slides a dazzling smile onto her face like our conversation never happened, and I have no choice but to let our conversation—and her hair—go.

Regardless of my personal desires, we have a show to put on, and I excel at my role as I offer to grab us milkshakes and popcorn from the concession stand.

“You’re the best, baby.” Lily waves me off, and the young couple parked beside us snickers.

“Will you grab me some popcorn too, baby?” A man I’ve seen working at Manny’s shop taunts with a kissy face.

I roll my eyes at him before heading to the concession stand. The line of twenty people wraps around the booth, but it seems to be quickly moving thanks to the four employees working behind the counter.

I’m about to get in line when I find my living nightmare standing near the end, looking casual with his hands tucked into his pockets.

I stumble back a step and bump into someone in the process, gaining the attention of a few people around me.

The person I ran into claps me on the shoulder. “You okay, Lorenzo?”

“I forgot my wallet.”

Trevor Ludlow turns at the sound of my voice, but I bolt before he can get a look at me. I’ve done my best to avoid him, and for the most part I’ve been successful, but tonight was a close call.

Too close.

My heart is racing by the time I make it back to the car.

“What happened to the snacks?” Lily asks when she sees me return empty-handed.

“Line was too long, and I didn’t want to miss the beginning of the movie.”

If Lily senses a lie, she doesn’t call me out on it, and I’m grateful. I can only handle so much tonight, and seeing Trevor pushed me to my absolute limit.

I can’t avoid him forever. Sooner or later, my past and future are going to collide.

And I have a feeling that when that time comes, it’s going to eat me alive.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Lorenzo


I’m in the middle of wrapping up a phone call with the head architect at Morrison and Holmes—the architecture firm Lily mentioned being involved with the Lavender Lane project—when Manny strolls into the empty office space that I turned into my campaign headquarters. He takes a seat near the front entrance and pulls out his phone after I hold up a finger and tell him to wait.

“Are you still there, Mr. Vittori?” the architect asks.

“Yes. Sorry about that. I just wanted to say I appreciate how forthcoming you’ve been during this call.” I can’t find it in me to smile. Despite the huge win for my campaign and the upcoming mayoral debate, my stomach is in knots from this conversation, and it has nothing to do with lying to get information out of the Ludlows’ architects.