“Well, his personality sucks.”
“I don’t disagree.” His fingers trail my jaw, my chin. “You’ll like Lorenzo.”
I have to trust him. Trust that this meeting will go well. That these new steps toward full disclosure are the right ones to make.
“The two of you will get along fine.” He places a kiss to my hairline, then reclaims my hand and continues toward the entry of the restaurant, the maître d' watching us approaches with familiarity in her gaze.
“Welcome, Mr. Langston. I think you’ll find Mr.—”
“It’s okay, Sophie.” He interrupts her speech and guides me to stride past her. “I can already see him.”
I scope the open dining area, seeing couples and families, none of them sparking interest until I reach the three men standing together at the bar. Two are younger, bulky and tall. The other is older, grey-haired with a shorter build. All of them wear dark suits, stylish and formal.
I’m underdressed.
The older man catches sight of us as he places his scotch glass before him on the polished wood, his grin quick to form. He strides toward us, spreading his arms, his light blue eyes beaming with pride. “Figlio mio.”
“Lorenzo.” Matthew squeezes my fingers before releasing my hand and accepting the offered hug. “It’s good to see you.”
They embrace with strong arms and claps on the back, all masculine in their affection as the two other men turn to witness the show from a few feet behind.
Matthew’s mentor isn’t what I expected. He’s far older, maybe in his sixties, with sun-kissed skin gentled by a myriad of deeply etched laugh lines. The only thing I anticipated correctly is his air of success. He oozes triumph, exactly like his mentee, the confidence in his expression bordering on arrogance.
“It’s been too long.” Lorenzo retreats to look him up and down. “You seem different. Overly carefree and alive.”
“I’m not sure I’m carefree, but I definitely feel alive.” Matthew returns to my side, placing a protective palm on the curve of my back. “This is Layla, the cause of my new lease on life and quello che possiede il mio cuore.”
I tense at the words spoken in a foreign language, slightly unnerved at being kept from part of the conversation.
“The one who owns your heart?” Lorenzo’s brows rise as he steps forward to grab my hands in his. “I can see why. It’s such a pleasure to meet someone whose beauty is profound enough to ensnare my Matthew. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I glance to the man by my side. What the hell has he said about me? And why the hell has he said it? Is he really entrenched in this connection enough to have already told his mentor about me?
The slight raise of his chin, as if steeling himself against my response, makes me wonder even more.
“I assure you her beauty is merely part of the allure.” Matthew winks. “She’s captured me on every level.”
I can’t respond.
Not in words.
Instead, I blush. Cheeks to neck. Inside and out.
Compliments from strangers aren’t new. People who want to get close to my brother often attempt to get there through me or Keira first, with most using kind lies and false admiration. But this is different.
I’m not a potential asset.
I’m of no use to these men because they have no idea who I am.
“I see you both have the same remarkable skills of flattery.” I smile at the older man, his grandfatherly face seeming oddly familiar with its warmth and kindness. “Is that something you taught Matthew?”
His laughter rumbles like rolling thunder. “I wish I could take the credit, but he’s always had his own ways when it comes to women. After all these years, you’re the first I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
“And if I have anything to do with it, she’ll be the last.” Matthew shakes the hands of the men looming in Lorenzo’s shadow, then walks farther into the restaurant. “I need coffee. Are we sitting inside or out?”
“Out. We can’t remain inside when we have the ocean to stare at.” Lorenzo links his arm with mine, leading me after Matthew who directs us toward the glass doors to the al fresco dining area, the two other men following behind. “I reserved the best table just for us.”
I walk on numb feet as a crowd of emotions seeks attention inside my chest.
Jubilation dances with twists and dips of hope and possibility. The kindness I’ve been welcomed with by these men is a blessing. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude to be so freely accepted. But the bitter edge of my shady upbringing still itches from the scars it’s left behind.
How darkly tainted is my life that this is the first time I’ve felt free from judgment?
With each passing minute, I want to settle more into Matthew’s world. To plant roots in soil that wasn’t made for me. But could it be?
Could I change who I am to remain with him?
Maybe I could be accepted for who I want to be if I’m willing to sever ties with my brother. With my entire family. With the crime and danger and lies.
Could I do that though?
Could I start over with Stella, placing her boarding school days in the rearview to live like a normal person?
“Tell me about yourself, Layla?” Lorenzo pats my hand as we step outside, the rush of waves crashing in the distance. “How did you meet my Matthew?”
I open my mouth, then pause, cautious at what to offer that won’t incriminate me. “We met in Denver.”
Lorenzo’s fingers twitch on my arm. “Matthew has been to Denver?”
“Stop plying her for information, zio.” Matthew continues to stride ahead, passing dining customers to enter a private cordoned off part of the seated area, making himself at home amongst the empty tables. “If you have questions for me, you know who to ask.”
“He’s always been touchy,” Lorenzo murmurs near my ear, his accent thick. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”
I grin as we reach a table in the far corner next to a waist-high hedge blocking us from the public bike track that’s busy with people exercising.
“Are more people joining us?” I take in the sea of emptiness around us, all the nearby tables bearing reserved signs just like ours.
“No, bella.” Lorenzo jerks his chin at the two men who came with him, sending a silent message that has them taking sentry positions at the farthest corners of the cordoned area.
Not business partners. Bodyguards.
“It’s for privacy,” the older man continues. “I can’t have everyone learning my secrets.”
Even though his comment is tongue-in-cheek, I’m tempted to ask what type of secrets could warrant reserving such a large area of the restaurant.
“Vecchio mio,” Bishop calls behind us, his stride long as he approaches to engulf Lorenzo in a hug with clapped backs and foreign greetings.
The two of them reunite like father and son, and for the first time, the man I’ve grown to despise doesn’t seem entirely feral thanks to a generous smile and sincere affection.
“Sit.” Lorenzo breaks the embrace and waves a hand toward the table. “Take the chair opposite me, Bella. Bishop and Matthew can protect us from the prying eyes of the world by sitting on the outside.”