“Yes.”
“I know it.”
That should have reassured me.
The way Tobias glanced at him did not.
“So you’ll come?”
Lorenzo picked up a folder, opened it, and appeared to return to work.
“Go home, Miss Hayes.”
My stomach dropped.
I had mistaken curiosity for agreement.
“Right.
Of course.
Sorry.”
I turned toward the door.
“Wear the black dress.”
I stopped.
The one I was currently wearing.
I looked back.
Lorenzo’s attention remained on the folder.
“Thursday,” he said.
“Eight.”
That was all.
I walked out of his office in a daze.
Tobias escorted me to the elevator.
Before the doors closed, I asked, “Does he do things like this often?”
“No.”
That answer followed me all the way home.
Now, inside Bellini’s, Lorenzo stood beside me with his hand extended.
I placed mine in his.
His fingers closed around mine, steady and warm.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“You’re not.”
I stood.
My mother recovered first.
She always did.
“Scarlet,” she said with a brittle smile, “aren’t you going to introduce your friend?”
I opened my mouth.
Ethan interrupted.
“Moretti.”
His voice sounded different.
The arrogance was gone.
Lorenzo turned his head toward him.
“Prescott.”
One word.
Ethan immediately looked as if he regretted speaking.
I glanced between them.
“You two know each other?”
“Not personally,” Lorenzo said.
Ethan reached for his wine.
His hand wasn’t completely steady.
That interested me far more than I wanted to admit.
My mother gestured toward the empty chair beside mine.
“Please.
Sit.
Any friend of Scarlet’s is welcome.”
Four days ago, she had told me not to be dramatic.
Now she was rearranging silverware as if Lorenzo were visiting royalty.
