Friday arrived like a lightning strike. One moment I was savoring a quiet morning; the next, the estate had turned into a circus. Caterers, florists, and decorators swarmed every corridor, hauling crates, testing lights, and shouting orders. My peaceful coffee turned bitter in seconds.
“Stop playing with your food.”
I nearly choked. I’d almost forgotten Lorenzo was still there, lounging across from me like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. Cartier sunglasses hid his eyes, but I could feel the judgment radiating off him. I shoved the last chunk of bagel into my mouth, chewed defiantly, then stood up, hoping he’d take the hint.
He didn’t.
By the time I reached my bedroom, he was still shadowing me. I spun around. “Your armed guards aren’t enough? Now you have to babysit me p
