Chapter 16 – Velvet Lies
628 Words
Rose
She didn’t scream.
She wanted to—every instinct in her told her to bolt, to grab something sharp, to run. But her spine stayed locked as the man walked into her flower shop like it belonged to him.
Lorenzo Bellanti.
Tall. Impeccably dressed in tailored navy with a crimson silk tie, and a face that could make a person forget he was a monster. But his eyes gave him away—too still. Too cold. A predator behind polished manners.
He walked slowly, looking at the arrangements with a curious smile. “Roses. So delicate. So layered. Don’t you agree, Rose?”
She swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
“To talk,” he said pleasantly. “Just a conversation.”
“You sent a man here. Vaughn. He tried to hurt me.”
Lorenzo chuckled, light and amused. “Vaughn is... enthusiastic. He’s like a junkyard dog who doesn’t know when to stay leashed. You weren’t supposed to be frightened. I assure you, I’m far more civil.”
“You mean manipulative.”
That made him smile wider. “Ah. You’re sharp. Luciano always had a weakness for intelligent women. Especially ones who saw past his... tarnished armor.”
Rose didn’t respond.
Lorenzo leaned on the counter, still as a snake before it strikes. “Luciano’s not who you think he is, you know. He wasn’t just his father’s son—he was the heir to a war. A war that cost both our families blood, honor, and lives.”
She stiffened. “You’re saying you’re the victim?”
“No,” he said calmly. “I’m saying you’re standing on a battlefield, sweetheart. And you haven’t even chosen a side.”
Rose stepped back. “If this is your version of charming—”
“I’m not here to charm you.” He dropped the pretense in a blink, his voice darkening. “I’m here to give you a choice.”
He reached into his coat slowly and placed a photo on the counter.
Rose’s blood ran cold.
It was her—taken from across the street, just two days ago. Smiling. Carefree. Exposed.
Lorenzo tapped the image. “You keep this up, you’ll end up on a slab, Rose. And Luciano? He’ll burn the whole city trying to avenge you. Again. And again. Until there’s nothing left.”
Her voice cracked, but she found it. “What do you want from me?”
“Tell me where the book is.”
“I don’t know.”
Lorenzo stared at her for a long, chilling beat. Then, softly: “If you find it, if you love him the way I suspect you do... tell him to hand it over. Or you’ll both drown in secrets you can’t survive.”
He walked out before she could answer.
And just like that, the shop fell silent.
---
Luciano
He returned an hour later, heart in his throat.
He’d left her too long. Again. Every worst-case scenario had played in his head on the ride back.
He found her sitting on the floor behind the counter, knees to her chest, holding the photograph in shaking hands.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t scream.
She just looked up at him and whispered, “Lorenzo was here.”
Luciano knelt beside her, his voice low and full of steel. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Her voice trembled. “But he said if you don’t give him the book... we both die.”
Luciano looked at the photo. Rage built in him like fire under ice.
He gently took her hands in his.
“I swear, Rose,” he said, “no one is ever going to touch you. Not while I’m breathing.”
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- Writer
