I lean back against Lorenzo’s strong chest as he lathers shampoo in my hair. He’s surprisingly gentle for a man with such powerful hands. I love the feeling of his skin on mine. I’d forgotten how much I missed it. He climbed in here with me fully clothed, but now his T-shirt and sweatpants lie in a soaking heap in the corner of my bathroom floor.
“You okay there, sunshine?” His lips trail over the sensitive skin on my neck. Despite the circumstances, my core contracts with heat at the memory of his mouth on my body.
“I’m better than I was,” I reply honestly. At least I can think clearly now that I’m no longer trapped in a daze of panic and fear. Lorenzo is here. Lorenzo can make all of this go away, right? Maybe I can go back to my nice little life that I was building here in Iowa. He rinses the shampoo from my hair and adds conditioner before squeezing body wash into his palms.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asks in his deep, soothing voice as he starts to wash my arms.
“My face is a little tender, but it’s okay.”
He clears his throat. “And what about anywhere else? Is there any place you don’t want me to touch you?”
I turn in his arms and stare up into his handsome face.
“You have some bruises on your thighs,” he says, by way of explanation, and the fear in his eyes makes my heart ache for him.
“They don’t hurt. And I stabbed him before he could …” My cheeks burn with anger and irrational shame.
“I’m sorry I didn’t kill him for you myself. I should have.” His soapy hands glide over my stomach.
“I asked you not to,” I remind him. “I honestly thought he’d let me go. That once I was gone, he’d see that we had nothing left together.” I shake my head at my own naivete.
He kisses my forehead and washes the blood spatter from my chest. “You’re a very difficult woman to let go of, Mia.”
Not all that difficult. Not for you. I don’t say that though, because it’s petty and childish. Lorenzo came when I called. He’s taking care of me, and he’ll do that right up to the point he has to leave. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation of his strong, comforting hands washing me clean. Finished with my top half, he drops to his knees and washes my ankles, snaking up my calves to my thighs. He’s extra gentle when he soaps the tops of my legs, careful not to apply too much pressure to my bruised skin.
His knuckles brush my pussy lips, and my knees almost buckle at his touch and the rush of memories he invokes. He moves on quickly, and I remind myself that this isn’t about that. This is simply him helping me out because he cares. I need to stop clinging onto hope for more.
I step out of my bedroom, towel drying my hair. Lorenzo paces up and down my hallway with a towel wrapped around his waist, and he’s speaking into his phone in Italian. I don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. However, I can tell from his tone and the scowl on his face that he’s annoyed. Seeing me, he stops pacing and quickly ends the call.
“You feeling better, sunshine?” he asks, his eyes narrowed in concern.
“A little, but …” I swallow the ball of anxiety that has made a permanent home in the space between my chest and throat.
“I’ll take care of all this.” He steps toward me. “It’ll be like you were never here. Brad too.”
“Me?” I assumed I’d stay here, although living in this house after what happened this morning doesn’t exactly fill me with joy.
“Yes, you. You can’t stay here now. Max is on his way with a team. They’ll move all your things back to Chicago. Amelia Donovan has returned to her old life in Phoenix, and Mia Stone has been with me in Chicago since you left Boston.”
My head spins. I must still be in shock. “You’re taking me back to Chicago with you?” Before I can ask why or what that means, there’s a knock at my front door.
“That’ll be Max and the guys. You have nothing to worry about, sunshine. They’ll take care of everything and I’m going to drive us home.”
He opens the door, and Max steps inside first, not even batting an eye at Lorenzo only wearing a towel. “I got some spare clothes in the truck.” He gives his friend a quick hug and moves around him.
Max approaches me with a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Mia. How’re you doing?”
Four men dressed in coveralls with the name Tommy’s Removals printed on the front file into my small hallway, each of them greeting Lorenzo. None of them show any surprise at his lack of clothing.
I glance back to Max. “I guess I’ve been better.”
Max wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives me a brief squeeze. “You did the right thing.”
“Tommy, take that fucker’s car and drive it to the pound in Michigan. Leroy will turn it into a pile of scrap metal before the day’s out.”
A tall man with gray eyes and a gray goatee nods. “Will do.”
“Any of your furniture you have a particular fondness for, Mia?” Lorenzo asks me.
I shake my head. I don’t have a lot of attachment to material possessions.
“Then pack up her personal belongings and burn everything else,” Lorenzo orders.
“What? Some of that stuff is nice. At least give it to goodwill,” I insist.
“Burn it,” Lorenzo repeats. “The less evidence there is of Mia being here, the better.”
I frown at him, but he goes on barking orders to Max and the other men. They’re going to make this look like Amelia Donovan never existed at all. Max will check the security footage, including doorbell cameras, in the nearby area and erase anything that shows Brad’s car. When they’ve finished discussing the plan for my house and my things, they move onto the body.
“So, we cut him into pieces, stuff him in a couple of suitcases and then we drive him to Chicago and turn him into ash?” Max says with a wicked grin, like this is his favorite part of his job. Like they aren’t talking about a man whose heart beat steady in his chest just a few hours ago. A vile man, but still a man. My stomach rolls and I fight the urge to be sick.
Sensing my discomfort, Lorenzo steps up beside me and slips his arm around my waist, giving me a reassuring squeeze before adding, “Then you scatter him in the river.”
I stand frozen in my hallway while Max and the other guys get to work. A million thoughts and questions race through my head. What about my job? My clients? The friends I was starting to make? My life here in Iowa?
“Mia?” Lorenzo’s deep voice cuts through my internal chatter, and I realize he’s been talking to me.
I gape at him. “This is …” I swallow a sob. What the hell did I expect? I just killed my cop ex-husband in my kitchen. “It’s a lot.”
He pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. I hate that he feels so much like home. I hate that within an hour of him being here, I’m already so dependent on him for comfort. “I know, sunshine. We’ll be home soon though and you can put all of this behind you.”
Home? Chicago isn’t my home. “But what about my job?”
“You’ll need to call your boss and tell her you can’t come back. Tell her your mom is sick so you’ve had to rush home to Phoenix to take care of her. That’s all you need to say.”
He makes it all sound so easy. Like we can just erase everything that happened here. Like he erased everything that happened between us? Another sob wells up in my throat. I’m overly emotional, but he’s right. I need to leave here. I can figure out where to go next once I’m safe in the Moretti mansion. Once I’m back with Kat, the only family I have left.
Nodding my agreement, I roll back my shoulders and look him in the eye. “I’ll call Gina and tell her.”
“Good girl.”
I ignore the way those two words make goosebumps prickle out all over my body, and I hope that Lorenzo doesn’t notice either.
