Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(54)

“I told you the shirt would be a hit,” Manny says, breaking up our moment.

“I couldn’t agree more.” I rub my hand over Lorenzo’s bicep, drawing goose bumps.

“It was a birthday present.” Manny smiles, and I instantly like him even more.

“You’re about four months early, but thanks,” Lorenzo replies.

“I couldn’t wait.” Manny winks. “As soon as I saw it, I knew you had to have it.”

I laugh while Lorenzo grimaces.

Lorenzo waits until Manny becomes distracted with Jane again to rope his leg around the foot of my chair and drag it until there is no gap of space between us.

My heart beats harder in my chest as I’m hit with the full force of his cologne, and I’m not given any time to recuperate as he leans in and asks, “Do you think this is funny?”

“Hilarious.”

“I look ridiculous.”

I pat his chest. “I think it’s a nice change.”

He shoots me a look. “You can’t be serious.”

“No, I am.” I do a better job of keeping the amusement out of my voice. “You look less…”

“What?”

“How do I put this nicely without sounding mean?”

He leans back and crosses his arms. “I doubt you know how to be mean.”

“Dahlia would disagree with you, especially when we play Monopoly.”

He laughs. It’s strong and hearty, leaving no room for me to question whether it’s genuine or not, and it makes my heart sing.

Danger, my brain blares out, but I’m too busy smiling at Lorenzo to notice it.

My nose scrunches.

He tracks the move. “Tell me what you were thinking and don’t bother censoring yourself. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

My gaze falls to his muscular arms because yes, he is.

“Lily?”

I look up to find Lorenzo’s lips curling with amusement.

“All right.” I take a deep breath. “You tend to look a little…stuffy? Or perhaps that’s not the right word.”

“Out of place?” Manny intervenes.

Jane makes a face, and Lorenzo notices it immediately.

“You agree?” he asks her.

Jane lifts her shoulders. “I mean, I’m not from here, so who am I to comment?”

“You’re the most unbiased person here, so that’s good enough,” Lorenzo replies.

“Well, I mean, I think mixing it up every now and then would make you seem a little more approachable.”

“What about this says approachable?” Lorenzo motions to his shirt.

“I think you look like you don’t take yourself too seriously,” she says.

“Ah, yes. A trait everyone wants to see in the person running for mayor.”

I jump in. “People here only wear suits for weddings and funerals.”

“But the Ludlows—”

Manny interrupts, “Are known to be a bit…”

“Uptight?” I offer. Snooty. Condescending. Born with a holier than thou pretentiousness that I once mistook as confidence.

Manny nods. “Exactly.”

Lorenzo’s petulant frown makes me laugh.

“I’m not uptight.” His voice is riddled with tension.

“You’re a billionaire, man—”

“Was. I was a billionaire.” Lorenzo’s body is getting progressively stiffer, so I decide to help him in the best way I know how.

“You know,” I say, “we can go shopping this weekend and see what we find.”

Manny hoots. “Yes! My mom knows—”

“No,” Lorenzo and I both say at the same time, making Manny and Jane laugh.

We look over at each other, our eyes both wide.

Manny places his elbows on the table, clasps his hands underneath his chin, and bats his thick lashes. “Look at them finishing each other’s sentences. Isn’t that cute?”

Nope, I lie to myself. Not even a little bit.




I stare longingly at the crowd on the dance floor. Manny and Jane were swallowed up by the large group of people two songs ago, and I haven’t seen them since.

Lorenzo surprises me by asking, “Do you want to dance?”

I arch a brow at him. “Together?”

“No, I was thinking you should go ask the guys who keep staring at you from across the bar.”

I lean into him so I can get a better look at the men he pointed out. It doesn’t take me long to notice the group hanging around the end of the bar, who quickly look away from our table.

I can’t help myself when I ask, “Does it bother you?”

“If they look? No.”

I didn’t expect his answer to bother me so much.

“What did I say now?” he asks, reading me yet again tonight.

“Nothing important.” Which is exactly my problem because part of me wants Lorenzo to give a damn.

I try to scoot my chair farther away, but he drags it right back before possessively wrapping his hand around the back of my neck.

“Look at me.”

I don’t dare take my eyes away from the dance floor.

Lorenzo squeezes the back of my neck again, silently willing me to listen, and because I’m a glutton for his rejection, I follow his command.