“They used a blade,” I finally admitted, my voice barely audible. “To leave a mark... to remind me.”
Lorenzo’s expression hardened as he processed my words. “I swear, Angela,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “if I ever find those bastards—”
“It’s in the past, Lorenzo,” I interrupted gently, reaching out to touch his face. “You don’t need to worry about them anymore.”
He took a deep breath, his features softening as he met my gaze. “I just hate knowing that you went through something like that,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “You’re so strong, Angela.”
His words warmed my heart, and I leaned into his touch. “When will you be leaving?”
“We have an hour to spare. Why?”
“How about we play 20 questions?” I suggested playfully. Lorenzo chuckled at my silly request. I could not help it. I wanted to know everything about this enigmatic man I found myself increasingly drawn to with every passing second. I wanted to know everything he liked, disliked, what he did in his spare time, etcetera, etcetera.
“Sure. Anything you want.”
“Okay, I’ll go first. What’s your favorite dish?” I inquired, genuinely curious about his culinary preferences.
“I’m not very picky,” he mused thoughtfully. “But I do love myself some Italian cuisine.”
“You’re just biased,” I teased, unable to resist a playful jab.
“Maybe I am,” he conceded with a smirk.
“Okay, your turn,” I prompted eagerly, wanting to hear more.
“Right, what is your favorite color?” Lorenzo asked, his eyes studying me intently. Caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze, I found myself momentarily lost in the depths of his silver eyes. A fleeting thought crossed my mind that I might have seen his pupils dilate ever so slightly, but I brushed it off as my imagination. Without hesitation, I blurted out my answer.
“Silver.”
“Silver? That explains your hair,” he remarked softly, his fingers gently tucking a loose silver strand of my hair behind my ear.
“What if I told you it’s not because of that?”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s your eyes,” I confessed, unable to tear myself away from his gaze. I felt a subtle shift in the air as his eyes seemed to darken slightly before he spoke.
“Ask me. My favorite color.”
“What is your favorite color?” I breathed, my heart fluttering with anticipation.
“Blue,” he answered without hesitation.
His response brought a smile to my lips, the warmth spreading through me like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“Okay, next question,” I ventured. His gaze softened as he tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “How many girlfriends have you had before?” I asked, my stomach fluttering with a hint of unease. He thought about his answer.
“None,” Lorenzo sighed, his words catching me off guard. Did he just saynone? NADA?Surely, I misheard. It was impossible for someone like him to not have a girlfriend before.
“None?” I echoed, trying to process this revelation.
“I’ve never officially dated,” he clarified. “Never had the time or desire to.”
“Really?” I pressed, genuinely curious now. “Then how did you...”
“Take care of my needs?” He finished my sentence with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Aren’t you curious?”
“What ifI amcurious?” I challenged playfully.
