A Match Made Up

Chapter 3

Lorenzo's POV

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I should’ve known better.

But when the flashing lights came on behind me, and the sound of sirens split the otherwise calm night air, I’d already had enough. I was tired. Tired of the constant scrutiny. Tired of being a puppet on strings, pulled by people who only saw me as a commodity, not a person. Tired of never being able to truly escape the chaos of my life.

My hands gripped the wheel of my car so tightly that my knuckles turned white in the dim light of the street lamps. The road had been quiet, but the minute I spotted the flashing lights in my rearview mirror, a sense of dread washed over me. I wasn’t drunk—no, that wasn’t the issue. But I’d had a few drinks, enough to blur my judgment just a little bit. Enough to make me question whether getting in the car was really the best idea.

But when I saw the cops pull me over, all I could think was, Not again.

Not after everything that had happened in the last year. Not after the stupid fights, the parties that had gotten out of hand, the tabloid photos, the rumors. I couldn’t afford this. Not tonight. Not ever.

I pulled over to the side of the road, killing the engine and slumping in my seat. It was almost as if I was waiting for the inevitable, letting the minutes stretch and blur into something heavy and suffocating.

The police officer approached my car with a practiced, neutral expression—like he’d seen this a thousand times before. He leaned down, tapping the window. I hesitated for a moment before rolling it down, my gaze drifting briefly to the officer’s badge before meeting his eyes.

“License and registration,” the officer said, his voice firm but not unkind.

I fumbled for his wallet, trying to control the nervous twitch in my hand. I wasn’t drunk, but I was on edge. I knew my name—Lorenzo Roberts—was more than enough to make this interaction a hundred times worse than it should be. A few drinks, a late-night drive, and the wrong place at the wrong time. That was all it took for this to go sideways.

I handed over my documents with a forced smile. “Here you go, officer.”

The officer took them without comment, walking back to his squad car. I watched through the rearview mirror as the officer made his way back to the car. My mind started to race, filling with worst-case scenarios. The last thing I needed was another headline about my reckless behavior.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and for a second, I thought about ignoring it. It was probably Annie, asking about my whereabouts, since I failed to show up to our last two scheduled meetings. But then the name flashed across the screen, and my stomach dropped.

Luca.

I swiped it open, ignoring the fact that it was the worst time for a text. My thumb hovered over the message, unsure how much to reveal.

Luca Collins: Where the hell are you? I’m waiting for you at dinner. Are you still coming?

I hesitated, typing a quick reply.

Lorenzo Owen Roberts: Got pulled over. Cop’s being a d**k. I might be a little while. Sorry.

I tossed the phone to the passenger seat, then leaned back, trying to prepare for whatever was coming next. The officer returned moments later, his tone less friendly than before.

“Mr. Roberts, I need you to step out of the car.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t good.

“Is there a problem, officer?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.

“You failed to signal when changing lanes back there,” the officer said, his gaze hardening. “That’s a ticket. But I’m also pulling you out of the car for a quick sobriety test. Can’t be too careful with celebrities like you behind the wheel.”

I tried to keep his expression neutral. But I wanted to snap. I wanted to shout that I wasn’t drunk, that I wasn’t some careless i***t, but instead, I just nodded, swallowing the frustration building in his chest.

“I’m not drunk, officer,” Lorenzo said, keeping his voice calm. “I’ve had a couple drinks, but I’m fine to drive.”

The officer didn’t seem convinced, and as he reached for his radio, a new wave of panic gripped my chest. I could already see the headlines: Lorenzo Roberts Arrested for DUI. It didn’t matter if I wasn’t actually drunk. All that mattered was the image, the perception. The public was ready to tear me down, and this would only feed their hunger.

Before the officer could respond, my phone buzzed again. Luca’s name flashing across the screen.

Luca Collins: I swear to God, just tell me where you are.

My heart sank. I knew Luca—my best friend, my brother—not by blood but by choice—would be there in a heartbeat. Luca had always been the one to fix things, to save me from my own mistakes. But this time? I didn’t know how much more Luca could take.

The officer was still talking into his radio, clearly waiting for confirmation from his superior. I knew he had a few moments to himself, but the anxiety gnawing at his insides made it impossible to sit still. I reached for my phone, quickly typing a response.

Lorenzo Owen Roberts: I’m fine. I’ll handle this.

I hit send just as the officer came back, his face a little sterner now.

“Mr. Roberts, I’m gonna need you to come with me. We’ll run a breathalyzer just to be safe. It’s standard procedure.”

My heart slammed in my chest as I tried to swallow down the panic rising in my throat. I couldn’t do this. Not now, not after everything I’d already been through. Not after the past year.

Just as the officer reached for his arm, a familiar car screeched to a halt beside him.

“Hey!” Luca’s voice rang out as he stepped out of his car, his usual confident swagger replaced with a level of urgency that had me on edge.

The officer turned toward Luca, his stance unyielding, surprise lacing his words. “Uh, can I help you, sir?”

“Whatever this is,” Luca said, his tone even but authoritative. “Let's sort it out quickly. He’s not the problem here.”

The officer didn’t seem entirely convinced, but Luca’s presence was enough to stall him for a moment. Luca stepped closer, his eyes locking with mine in a silent exchange.

“Come on, man,” Luca muttered, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “Let’s get you out of here.”

My breath hitched as I realized that, once again, Luca was bailing me out. I didn’t know what it was about my best friend, but Luca always showed up when he was needed most—no questions asked.

The officer hesitated, glancing between the two men, before finally nodding. “Alright. But I’m putting you on notice, Roberts. You need to be more careful next time.”

Luca didn’t wait for another word. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away, not looking back as we walked toward his car.

Once we were in the car and heading away from the scene, I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of everything lift, if only for a moment. I turned to Luca, my voice hoarse.

“You really came through for me, huh?”

Luca glanced at me briefly, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Someone has to keep you from wrecking your own life, Roberts. Just... don’t make me do it again.”

I chuckled weakly, my hand running through my hair. “I really need to stop f*****g up, don’t I?”

Luca didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for the radio, turning up the music just a bit. "Yeah, well, at least you're not alone in this. You have me."

I nodded, grateful. "Thanks, man. Seriously. You’re the only reason I’m not in jail right now."

Luca gave me a side glance, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. "You're lucky I love you, or else I’d let you rot in there."

I snorted, my shoulders relaxing for the first time that night. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as lost as I thought. Not with Luca in my corner.

“Next time, try not to get arrested on my watch, alright?” Luca teased, but I could hear the underlying sincerity.

I gave him a lopsided grin. "I’ll do my best, but no promises."

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The next morning, I sat in a conference room, slumped in a chair, my shoulders tense as Annie Reid, my publicist, paced back and forth like a frustrated drill sergeant. These meetings always left me on edge. After years in the industry and countless "damage control" sessions with Annie, the routine still felt like being dragged back to school for a lecture I didn’t want to hear—only this time, the stakes were much higher.

I leaned back in the conference room chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the table. Annie paced in front of me, her no-nonsense demeanor on full display. Luca was slouched in the seat next to me, scrolling through his phone like he wasn’t part of the problem. Typical.

“Do you even understand how bad this is, Lorenzo?” Annie said, her voice sharp and deliberate. “The tabloids are already running with last night’s story. Another headline about you ‘spiraling out of control.’ And that’s after the nightclub fiasco last month, the canceled interview, and—”

“I get it, Annie,” I interrupted, my voice clipped. “I’ve been screwing up.”

“Screwing up?” Annie’s tone rose an octave. “You’re a public relations nightmare right now. Studios are already hesitant to work with you because you can’t keep yourself out of trouble. And do you know what’s worse? They’re starting to think you don’t care.”

That stung more than it should have. My jaw tightened as I avoided her gaze. She wasn’t wrong, and that made it worse.

Luca finally looked up, his easygoing expression replaced by something more serious. “She’s got a point, man. You’ve been walking a tightrope for months. One more misstep, and it’s going to snap.”

I exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of my neck. “So what? What’s the solution this time? Another carefully worded apology? A charity event to prove I’m a good guy?”

Annie stopped pacing and turned to him, her sharp eyes narrowing. “No. This time, we need something bigger. More sustainable. You need stability, Lorenzo. Something the public can believe in. Someone they can believe in.”

I frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Annie said, crossing her arms, “that you need a relationship. A real one—or at least one that looks real enough to make people forget about your so-called ‘reckless’ behavior. You’re 32, Lorenzo. People are tired of the playboy narrative. They want to see you as someone dependable, relatable. And a good relationship is the fastest way to do that.”

Luca let out a low whistle. “Wow, Annie. Just pimp him out, why don’t you?”

Annie shot him a look. “Don’t be dramatic, Luca. This is about salvaging his career. It’s not like I’m telling him to marry someone tomorrow. But a public relationship? Something steady? It would shift the conversation overnight.”

I leaned forward, my hands clasped tightly. “And what happens when it falls apart? Because let’s be honest, Annie—I’m not exactly relationship material. I’ve never been good at this stuff.”

“That’s why you’ll have help,” Annie said, her tone softening just slightly. “We’ll be strategic about this. It’s not about finding your soulmate, Lorenzo. It’s about building trust with the public again. Showing them you’re more than the guy who keeps landing on the front page for all the wrong reasons.”

Luca snorted. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘trustworthy’ like a relationship engineered by a PR team.”

Annie ignored him, her attention focused squarely on me. “This isn’t just about the public, Lorenzo. It’s about you. You’ve been spiraling, whether you want to admit it or not. You need something—or someone—to ground you. To remind you what you’re working for. This isn’t just about saving face. It’s about saving yourself.”

I didn’t respond right away, glancing at Luca, who shrugged like he didn’t have the answers either. The idea felt… wrong, maybe even manipulative. But at the same time, Annie wasn’t entirely off the mark. I was tired—of the headlines, of the judgment, of feeling like I was constantly trying and failing to outrun my own shadow.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need someone to help me rebuild my image. Even if it was all made up.