Chapter Two: Secrets Beneath the Surface
Julie awoke with a jolt.
The room was still dark, but the fire had died down. For a moment, she forgot where she was. The scent of cedar and rich leather clung to the air, and the oversized shirt she wore felt foreign against her skin.
Then it all came rushing back.
Lorenzo. The storm. The car. The warning.
She sat up, heart pounding, and ran her hands through her hair. It was late—maybe early morning. She hadn't meant to fall asleep in his guest room, but exhaustion had dragged her under the moment her head hit the pillow.
She stepped out into the hallway barefoot, her steps silent against the hardwood. Somewhere in this quiet fortress, Lorenzo was awake. She could feel it.
Julie wandered toward the main living area, guided by the soft golden light spilling from under a door down the hall. Her fingers hovered over the handle for a second before she pushed it open.
It was his study.
Lorenzo stood at the window, shirtless, broad shoulders glowing in the low light. His phone was pressed to his ear, his voice low and fast—Italian, sharp and urgent.
She stayed still, hidden by the doorframe, listening.
"No. She doesn't know yet. But if they get to her before we move, it's over. You understand me? I'll burn Rome to the ground before I let them touch her."
Julie's breath hitched.
"She means nothing to you," a voice replied—crackling faintly through the speaker.
"She's everything," Lorenzo snapped. "And that's exactly why they'll use her. So keep eyes on every damn corner of the city. Or she'll die. And I'll make sure you die with her."
The call ended.
Julie stepped back, bumping into the door with a soft thud. Lorenzo turned instantly, eyes locking onto hers like a hunter catching movement in the woods.
"How long have you been standing there?" he asked.
"Long enough," she said, voice tight.
He stepped toward her, but she held her ground. "You still think you can protect me by keeping me in the dark?"
"I didn't mean for you to hear that," he said, quieter now.
"But I did. And I want answers." She crossed her arms. "Who's coming for me?"
Lorenzo sighed and leaned against the desk. "There's a man—Matteo Lucetti. He took over the family after his father died in prison. We've had a cold war for years, but now he's making it personal."
"Why now?"
"Because two weeks ago, I bought something he wanted—a shipping route through southern Spain. He lost millions. And then someone whispered in his ear that I had a weakness."
Julie swallowed. "Me."
He nodded. "You."
"I'm not your weakness," she said firmly.
"You are," he said simply. "But only because I never stopped loving you."
Her breath caught. "Lorenzo…"
He stepped closer, slowly, like a wolf circling but not pouncing. "You can hate me. You can scream, fight, curse. But don't tell me you didn't feel it too. Just now. In the car. When I touched your hand."
She looked away, furious with herself. Because she had felt it.
The familiar fire. The one only he could light.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter what I felt. I'm not the same girl you walked away from."
His voice dropped. "I know. You're stronger. Colder. And still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Julie's lips parted—she wanted to stop him, push him back—but he was already too close.
His hand touched her cheek, gentle but firm. The heat between them ignited instantly, like dry leaves meeting flame.
His forehead pressed to hers. "Tell me to stop," he whispered.
She couldn't. Not yet. Not with his scent surrounding her, not with the way her pulse roared in her ears.
But then—
"I can't do this," she said, stepping away, breath shaking. "Not until I know I'm not just another secret again."
He nodded slowly, pain flickering in his eyes. "Then I'll give you the truth. All of it."
---
Later that morning, Julie wandered the house while Lorenzo made calls behind closed doors. The mansion was far less extravagant than his previous estate. No gold, no marble, no servants.
Just quiet, hidden wealth.
She stopped by a hallway lined with framed photos—most of them unfamiliar men in suits, some shaking hands, others posing with weapons barely out of frame.
One picture caught her eye.
It was old. Grainy. A younger Lorenzo stood beside a man she recognized from the news—Matteo Lucetti.
They were smiling.
She stared at it for a long time.
How deep did these connections go? Had he worked with Matteo once? Betrayed him? Or was Lorenzo hiding something even darker than she suspected?
She was so deep in thought, she didn't hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.
"Beautiful, isn't he?"
Julie spun around.
A tall man in black leaned against the wall behind her. Sharp jaw, blue eyes, and a smirk that didn't reach them.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm Marco. One of Lorenzo's men." He held out a hand. "You must be the girl who broke the boss's heart."
Julie didn't shake it.
Marco chuckled. "Smart. I'd be careful too. Especially around here."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He leaned in slightly. "Just that secrets live in these walls. And sometimes, the person protecting you is also the person who put you in danger in the first place."
Julie's spine stiffened. "Are you threatening me?"
He smiled wider. "Not at all. Just… reminding you to watch your back."
And then he walked away, whistling softly as he vanished down the hallway.
Julie's heart pounded. She turned back to the photo of Lorenzo and Matteo, suddenly more unsure than ever.
Had Lorenzo really saved her from a threat?
Or had he brought her straight into one?