Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(99)

I’m not slick about my intention either, so I anticipate her glaring in my direction when I park by the curb. What I don’t expect is her stomping over to my car and pointing at the window until I roll it down.

“Quit following me around.”

“I would if I could.” Exhaustion bleeds into my voice.

Her eyes narrow. “What game are you playing?”

“I wasn’t aware I was playing one.”

She growls with frustration. “Go home.”

“I will once you get inside.” I lean back in the driver’s seat.

“You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?” I bite down on my tongue.

“Act like you care.”

“Good thing I’m not acting, then, am I?”

“How can I tell? Our entire relationship has been a lie.”

I breathe, hoping to expel some of my frustration through my mouth and failing after one attempt.

I’m too annoyed by her accusation to try again, so I pull out the bracelet from my pocket to show her who the real liar is here, and spoiler, it’s not me.

Lily backs away. “I told you I don’t want it.”

I ignore her and open the app on my phone.

Her brows rise, right before they scrunch with confusion. “Is that…”

“A top-of-the-line model.”

She covers her mouth with her palm.

“Tell me something, amore mio. Am I acting now?”

She shakes her head, anguish etched into the fine lines by her eyes and mouth. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because let this be the last time you accuse me of lying.” I hold the bracelet out for her to grab. “Now, do you want me to follow you around everywhere, or will you be a good fiancée and wear my gift?”

She stares at the bracelet like it might transform into a venomous snake.

“You need professional help, Lorenzo.” She stares at me, her eyes a window to her crushed soul.

The only person I hate more than Trevor Ludlow right now is myself, because I’m the one who is making her miserable.

As much as I hate it, I won’t make her a promise I can’t keep either, so I’m put in an impossible situation.

“I’m only doing this because I don’t want to see you more than I have to.” Her fingers tremble as she reaches for the bracelet. She tries to put it on herself, but I intervene, allowing myself to seek comfort in her touch.

I pretend to struggle with the clasp to give myself more time. “Okay.”

“You’re a real asshole for tracking me without my consent, by the way.”

“I’ll never apologize for prioritizing your safety.”

Her hands clench into fists by her side. “And who’s going to keep me safe from you?”

Pain laces through me, starting in the back of my throat before weaving its way through my chest.

I never wanted to hurt her, yet that’s all I manage to do.

With deft fingers, I secure the clasp and pull my hand back. “I’ll see you on Saturday at the assisted-living facility.”

“So that’s it? Back to business?” Her body tensing, visibly bracing herself for my reply.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Fuck you, Lorenzo.” Her voice cracks, and my own heartbeat seems to slow as I replay the sentence in my head.

Lily has never spoken to me that way, and while deserved, it still hurts.

“Get some rest.” For her benefit, I keep my voice cold and detached.

With another curse, she spins around and heads into her house while I watch from my spot on the curb.

Once the light in her bedroom turns on, I drive away, knowing that come tomorrow, everything between us will have changed.




I get home and am immediately assaulted with memories of Lily. Her basket of socks. The photo of us from the cooking class. The wilting bouquet that I’m supposed to replace tomorrow.

Everywhere I turn, I’m reminded of the woman who has infiltrated my life, turning it from shades of morally gray to a spectrum of colors that match her wardrobe.

I escape the entryway and head to the living room. Daisy gives up on sniffing my leg and disappears down the hall before returning with a pair of socks in her mouth.

“For fuck’s sake.” I wipe my face.

She drops the socks in front of me and whines.

“Your mom’s not coming home.”

She lies flat on her stomach and lets out another high-pitched noise.

“What?”

She nudges the socks with her nose, and I toss them onto the coffee table.

Since I can’t stand looking at Daisy without thinking about Lily, I head to the liquor cabinet for a bottle of scotch. I slam one of the doors and accidentally scare her, so she takes off running.

I don’t drink to get drunk ever. Doing so would take away my control, and I prefer to keep a tight grip on my reality. But tonight I make an exception.

I need to.

Because if I’m not thinking about Lily, then I’m ruminating over the debate and how I had to pretend I didn’t want to kill Trevor Ludlow with my bare hands.

Outside of large town events like the Strawberry Festival, I’ve been able to avoid Trevor. He hangs around a very elite group of people, and since he hardly volunteers around town, we rarely cross paths.