CHAPTER 5
1619 Words
AURORA DUARTE
The kiss ends as abruptly as it began.
My breathing is ragged, his taste still burning on my lips, and the silence inside the car is deafening.
I pull away, my hands still trembling, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened.
Lorenzo doesn’t say a word either. He just stares at me for a few seconds before muttering a low curse and turning the engine back on.
"Let’s go back."
The engine groans but complies. He shifts gears and hits the accelerator. The car tries to move… and then comes the sound.
A sharp snap. A strange vibration. Lorenzo slams the brakes and hits the steering wheel with both hands.
"Shit."
"What now?" I ask, trying to hold onto the calm I’ve already lost.
"I think the tire blew."
"Of course it did." I huff.
"Because nothing tonight can just be normal, right?"
"Fuck." He opens the door and steps out, mumbling something about tires and hell.
I stay seated, staring out at the dark, silent road. I look around and all I see is overgrown grass. A lot of it. And nothing else. Great.
Stranded in the middle of nowhere after a kiss I still don’t know if it was a mistake or a disaster.
I glance out again. It’s too dark. And now… it starts raining.
Perfect. This has to be a joke.
Lorenzo returns, tossing his soaked jacket onto the back seat. He slams the door shut and lets out a frustrated sigh.
"The tires are stuck. The road’s full of mud. We’ll have to wait for help."
"I told you," I snap, crossing my arms and glaring at him.
"This kind of car wasn’t made for this kind of road. But you know everything, right?"
"Don’t start."
"I already did."
He pulls out his phone and calls someone. His voice is firm, cold, impatient. Judging by the tone, he’s ordering someone to come get us. But when he hangs up, he looks at me, irritated.
"They’ll take a while. The road’s slippery and the GPS signal here sucks."
"Perfect," I mutter. "Stuck in the middle of nowhere with you. The night of my dreams."
"Feel honored."
"I’d rather die."
He rolls his eyes and suddenly opens the door again, stepping into the rain without a second thought.
The rain pours down hard now, soaking him in seconds. Lorenzo heads to the back of the car, trying something — probably pushing or checking the tires.
I watch him for a few seconds, then open the door and step out too.
The rain is icy, and my skin prickles instantly, but I don’t care. My dress clings to my body, my wet hair sticks to my face — whatever.
"Are you insane?" he shouts over the downpour.
"You’ll catch pneumonia!"
"And you think you’re fixing this on your own? Give me a break."
I approach the tires and see the mud covering half of them. He’s trying to dig them out with his hands. I glance around, searching for something that could help.
"We need something to put underneath. Wood, rocks, anything to give it traction," I shout through the wind.
"Where’d you read that? The Stubborn Girl’s Survival Guide?"
"Better than just standing around whining."
We both search the ground for something useful, digging through wet branches and stones. We manage to find some wooden planks near a broken fence of an abandoned farm.
We return — dirty, soaked, breathless.
The taste of his kiss still burns in my memory. Damn it.
While he crouches, positioning the wood, I help him, shivering. Our hands touch by accident. We both pretend we didn’t feel it.
Lie. We felt everything.
"Let’s try now." He gets back in the car and presses the pedal.
The wheels spin, the engine groans… nothing.
The mud wins.
He gets out and kicks the ground, furious.
"This isn’t going to work. We’re stuck here until hell freezes over."
"Congratulations." I feel the rain dripping down my back.
"You’ve officially ruined the night twice. A new record, even for you."
"Oh, right, because everything’s my fault." He turns to me, voice thick with sarcasm.
"My fault there’s a storm, a muddy road, a flat tire, the kiss—"
I freeze.
"What?"
"Forget it."
"No, repeat that."
He inhales deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly, like he’s trying not to explode.
"The kiss," he says again, staring into my eyes.
"Was that my fault too?"
"I don’t know," I say, exhausted.
"Maybe. Maybe it was mine. Maybe we just lost our minds. Because we’re stuck in this shitty theater pretending to be something we’re not."
He steps closer. The rain trickles down his face, his eyes locked on mine.
"Or maybe, Aurora, we just lost control… because there’s only so much pretending we can do."
Thunder cracks the sky. I turn away, swallowing hard.
Damn it. What is this man doing to me?
The rain drums loudly on the car’s roof, muffling all outside noise. We’re soaked, filthy, exhausted… and stranded in the middle of nowhere.
My dress clings to me like a second skin, heavy with water, and cold dampness trickles down my spine. I shiver — from the cold, yes, but also from something I can’t explain. Maybe anger. Maybe anxiety. Maybe… him.
Lorenzo fiddles with the car’s dashboard, probably trying to start the heater, but the car seems determined to torture us further. I cross my arms and sigh.
"This isn’t going to work," I mutter.
"Thanks for the expert opinion, engineer," he replies with sarcasm.
I roll my eyes and open my mouth to snap back, but stop when I see him sigh and start unbuttoning his soaked white shirt.
I freeze for a second, watching his fingers undo one button, then another, until the wet fabric slips off his broad shoulders and lands in the back seat.
"What are you doing?" I ask, unable to hide the shock in my voice.
"Getting rid of the wet clothes," he says casually, loosening his tie.
"You should do the same."
"I’m not getting naked in front of you, Lorenzo."
He gives me that crooked, smug smile — the kind that makes me want to slap him… or pull him in for another kiss. Hell.
"Who said I asked you to get naked?" he says in that low, teasing voice.
"Just take off what’s making you freeze, princess. Unless you’re just looking for an excuse to tease me."
"You’re ridiculous," I mutter, looking away.
Or at least, I try to. Because not looking at him is practically impossible.
Now he’s only in dress pants. His bare chest, defined and bronzed, still glistens with raindrops sliding slowly over warm skin. I can see the muscles of his abs rising and falling with each breath. He’s probably relieved to be free of the drenched fabric.
But I’m not looking. I swear I’m not.
"Much better," he says, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes for a moment.
"You should try it too."
I turn my face toward the window, wishing a lightning bolt would strike the car and end this night already. But I’m not that lucky.
The silence grows between us, broken only by the rain and thunder. The heat in the car begins to build from our wet clothes and heavy breaths. I shift, uncomfortable with the soaked dress stuck to my skin.
"So…" he starts, glancing sideways at me.
"What are we supposed to do until someone comes?"
"Wait."
"Wow. A creativity score of ten. I bet you were the class nerd."
"I was, actually," I say, not looking at him.
"Until I got kicked out and had to dance for money."
Silence.
He doesn’t respond. Of course not. Just sits there, quiet, swallowing guilt he probably doesn’t even understand.
He laughs. Not his usual smug laugh, but something closer to genuine. When I glance over, I see he’s turned more toward me, arm draped over the seatback, watching me. I try to pretend I don’t notice, but it’s useless. I feel his gaze on me like another form of heat.
"You’ve got mud on your face," he says softly.
"And you think that’s a problem now?"
"Yes. Let me wipe it off."
"What are you—"
The touch is soft. Almost a whisper. His fingers glide along my cheek, brushing away the dirt that must’ve splattered when I helped push the car. His hand is warm, firm. It contrasts with my cold skin.
When he stops, our eyes meet.
His blue eyes.
I’ve always hated eyes like that. Cold. Harsh. Pale. But his… his are different. There’s something in them that confuses me. That holds me still.
My heart races, and I look away.
"Is it clean now?" I ask, trying to sound sarcastic.
"Not sure. I might have to take a closer look."
"Lorenzo…"
"Okay, okay," he says, laughing, pulling back.
"Just trying to help."
I rest my head against the cold glass of the window, trying to cool down my mind.
But it’s no use.
Everything around me is on fire, especially inside me.
His touch still burns on my skin.
I try to distract my mind.
I remember what I read about him.
The full file on the man who now sits shirtless beside me.
No siblings.
Mother died when he was a child.
A billionaire father, cold, powerful.
Lorenzo grew up in the shadows of an empire.
Always in the headlines — scandals, lovers, money.
The kind of man who never had to fight for anything.
I feel his gaze again.
Burning.
I should turn my face away.
But part of me... doesn’t want to.
Damn.
- Writer
