Four
1291 Words
Chapter 4 — The Man Who Remembered
Victoria
I had spent years learning how to read people.
It was part of being a CEO.
You learned who wanted your money.
Who wanted your company.
Who wanted your approval.
And who was lying to your face.
Lorenzo Valentieri was different.
I couldn't read him.
That bothered me.
I stood beside one of the tall windows overlooking the ballroom, watching him speak with several investors.
He wasn't trying to dominate the conversation.
He didn't need to.
People naturally leaned toward him when he spoke.
There was an effortless authority about him.
He was tall, probably around six foot three, with broad shoulders and dark hair that had been styled neatly but not excessively. His black tuxedo fit him perfectly, emphasizing the quiet strength in his frame.
But it was his eyes that kept drawing my attention.
Dark.
Warm.
Observant.
They made me feel as though he could see through every wall I had built.
“Stop staring.”
I nearly jumped.
Jamal stood beside me.
“I wasn't staring.”
“You were practically conducting a background investigation with your eyes.”
I gave him a look.
He smiled.
“Fine. I'll behave.”
“You should try it more often.”
“Impossible.”
He took a sip of his drink.
“So?”
“So what?”
“What do you think of him?”
“Lorenzo?”
“No, the waiter.”
I frowned.
“Jamal.”
“I'm asking about Lorenzo.”
“He seems intelligent.”
“That's it?”
“He's successful.”
“Victoria.”
“What?”
“You've described him like you're evaluating a potential employee.”
I looked away.
“I don't know him.”
“Yet.”
I didn't answer.
Across the room, Lorenzo suddenly looked toward me.
Our eyes met.
Again.
And that strange feeling returned.
It wasn't simply attraction.
It was something deeper.
Something I couldn't explain.
Then he started walking toward me.
My pulse quickened.
Ridiculous.
I was a thirty-year-old woman who had negotiated million-dollar contracts without blinking.
One man shouldn't make me nervous.
Yet when he stopped in front of me, I suddenly forgot what I had planned to say.
“Victoria.”
“Lorenzo.”
His gaze softened.
“May I steal you for a moment?”
“Why?”
“I want to show you something.”
I hesitated.
Jamal nudged my arm.
“Go.”
I glared at him.
He smiled innocently.
I sighed.
“Fine.”
Lorenzo led me toward a quieter corridor away from the ballroom.
The music became softer behind us.
“What are you showing me?”
“Something I've carried for a long time.”
He stopped near a large painting.
Then reached inside his jacket.
My eyes narrowed.
He pulled out a small photograph.
Old.
The edges were worn.
He handed it to me.
I looked down.
And the world seemed to stop.
Two children stood beneath a large tree.
A boy.
A girl.
The little girl had dark hair tied into two uneven ponytails.
Her cheeks were puffed out.
I stared.
“I know this picture.”
Lorenzo watched me carefully.
“You should.”
I touched the photograph.
“Where did you get it?”
“I kept it.”
My eyes lifted.
“Why?”
“Because she was important to me.”
The words were simple.
But they carried something that made my chest ache.
I looked at the little girl again.
Something stirred inside my memory.
A summer afternoon.
Warm sunlight.
Grass beneath my feet.
A boy laughing.
A cookie.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“You remember.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
His voice was gentle.
Not demanding.
Certain.
I looked at him.
“Who are you?”
For several seconds, he simply stared at me.
Then he smiled.
Not the polite smile he had worn downstairs.
This one was different.
Warm.
Almost boyish.
The expression suddenly triggered another memory.
A boy standing in front of me.
Holding a cookie behind his back.
Laughing.
You can't catch me.
I blinked.
“Lorenzo…”
“Yes?”
My voice became quieter.
“Were you there?”
His eyes softened.
“I was.”
The photograph trembled slightly between my fingers.
“You're…”
I couldn't finish.
He stepped closer.
“You finally remember.”
I stared at him.
And suddenly, another memory surfaced.
A little boy running across a garden.
Me chasing him.
“Give it back!”
“No.”
“Lorenzo!”
He laughed.
“Come and get it, Hamster!”
My breath caught.
Hamster.
The word echoed inside my mind.
I looked at him.
He was watching me with an expression I had never seen on his face before.
Tenderness.
“You…”
I swallowed.
“You called me that.”
His smile widened.
“I still do.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Why?”
He leaned slightly closer.
“Because some things never change.”
I couldn't speak.
Twenty years disappeared in a single moment.
The boy I had forgotten was standing in front of me.
Except he wasn't a boy anymore.
He was Lorenzo Valentieri.
A billionaire.
A powerful businessman.
A stranger to the world.
But somehow, impossibly, familiar to me.
He reached for the photograph.
His fingers brushed mine.
“Cricetina mia.”
I froze.
“What does that mean?”
His eyes held mine.
“My little hamster.”
Something inside me cracked.
And for the first time in years, I remembered how it felt to be that little girl again.
Lorenzo
She remembered.
Not everything.
Not yet.
But enough.
I could see it in her eyes.
The confusion.
The memories.
The fear.
I wanted to reach for her.
To tell her I had spent years wondering where she was.
To tell her I had searched for her without knowing whether I'd ever find her.
But I stopped myself.
Victoria needed time.
She had built walls for a reason.
I wouldn't destroy them.
I'd wait.
Just as I'd waited all those years.
“Lorenzo?”
I looked at her.
“Yes?”
“Why didn't you tell me when we first met?”
I smiled faintly.
“Because I wanted to be certain.”
“Certain of what?”
“That the woman standing before me was still my Hamster.”
She stared at me.
“And?”
I looked into her eyes.
“She is.”
Victoria looked away.
For a moment, I thought she might leave.
Instead, she whispered,
“I don't know what to think.”
“You don't have to decide tonight.”
I stepped back, giving her space.
“But you should know something.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“I never forgot you.”
Her expression changed.
Before she could respond, my phone vibrated.
I glanced at the screen.
The same message as before.
Someone is watching Victoria.
I looked across the corridor.
A man in a dark suit stood at the far end.
The moment our eyes met, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
My instincts sharpened.
I slipped my phone into my pocket.
Victoria noticed.
“What is it?”
I forced my expression to remain calm.
“Nothing.”
But I knew better.
Someone had been watching her.
And now they knew I was standing beside her.
For the first time that evening, I wasn't thinking about the little girl I had found again.
I was thinking about how to protect the woman she had become.
Because something told me that our reunion hadn't happened by accident.
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