16
1192 Words
SOPHIE POV
The night Lorenzo decides to take me out feels like a line being crossed.
Not recklessly,but deliberately.
He doesn’t soften it or dress it up as a treat. He simply looks at me over the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, expression calm in that dangerous way that always makes my pulse pick up.
“We’re going out tonight.”
My heart stutters.
“Out… out?” I ask, even though I already know what he means.
“One of my clubs,I have a meeting with a business partner.”
The words settle between us, heavy with implication.
For a moment, excitement flares,within me.Then fear follows close behind. And beneath both sits something steadier, something earned.
Trust.
I nod. “Okay.”
His gaze sharpens, searching my face like he’s trying to separate courage from recklessness. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I say quietly. “I’m tired of hiding.”
Something shifts in his expression. Not approval. Acceptance,it’s like he’s slowly agreeing to fully let me into his world.
“Then we do it properly,” he says. “You stay close. You stay aware. And if anything feels wrong….”
“I don’t ignore it,” I finish.
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Good and call me immediately,stay with your phone always Tesoro.”
Getting ready feels different tonight,not like I’m dressing to be admired,but I still dress to turn heads and to send a message ‘I will not back down’ the red dress I picked out clung to my skin accentuating my curves and together with a smoky make up and big bag curls of hair I know I killed the look.
Lorenzo stands by the doorway waiting for me His gaze sweeps over me slowly.
“You look hot Tesoro”kissing my forehead
“I am tempted to bend you over the island and take you ruthlessly and have you screaming my name for the guards and neighbors to hear”
“What’s stopping you then?”
“We are late Tesoro”
“When did you bother about timing?”
“I’m meeting with an important partner and in my world time is money,we have some new shipments and we need to discuss”
“Are you ready?” he says.
I lift my chin. “I am.”
“Remember what you learned.”
“I remember.”
And I do.
The club is hidden beneath one of Lorenzo’s legitimate businesses, accessed by a private elevator that scans fingerprints and faces before descending. When the doors open, polished stone floors stretch out beneath dim amber lights. Music hums low and deep, vibrating through my bones rather than assaulting my senses.
It’s beautiful.
And dangerous.
This isn’t a place for chaos. It’s a place for control.
Lorenzo’s hand settles at my lower back as we step inside. A reminder that I’m not alone, even as every instinct sharpens.
The reaction is immediate.
Conversations soften. Heads turn discreetly. No one stares outright, but everyone looks.
Lorenzo De Luca doesn’t go unnoticed anywhere but here, his presence feels absolute.
And me?
I feel claimed.
We’re led to a private booth overlooking the main floor. His men are everywhere, disguised as patrons, staff, shadows. Bartenders watch more than they pour. Exits are covered. Corners are clean.
Lorenzo sits beside me, arm draped along the back of the seat, posture relaxed, eyes alert. Power radiates from him effortlessly.
A server brings drinks. Mine is light. Lorenzo barely touches his.
“You okay?” he murmurs, lips brushing my ear.
“Yes,” I say.
And I mean it.
For a while, I almost forget to be afraid. The music, the lights, the way Lorenzo leans close to speak it all feels normal.
When I lean in to tell him I need the bathroom, his eyes flick to mine instantly.
“Take one of the women.”
“I’ll be quick.”
“Don’t wander.”
“I won’t.”
The hallway to the bathrooms is quieter. The music dulls behind thick walls. The lights here are brighter, harsher.
I wash my hands slowly, watching my reflection.
You’re fine, I tell myself. Breathe.
The door opens behind me.
I feel it instantly.
The shift.
“Hey,” a man says softly.
“This is the ladies restroom,you can’t be here”
When I turn, he’s already within arm’s reach.
His hand shoots for my wrist and my instinct kicks in,my body reacts before my mind has time to panic.
I pivot, driving my fist forward just like Lorenzo taught me.
Impact.
Pain explodes across my knuckles as they connect with his jaw. He stumbles back, swearing.
He recovers fast too fast and lunges again.
My knee comes up hard, slamming into his groin.
He gasps, folding, but his hand still catches my arm and twists it causing pain in my arms.
I twist up, out, down torque over strength, just like Lorenzo drilled into me. His elbow bends the wrong way. He yells, rage flashing in his eyes.
He swings wildly, fist clipping my shoulder. Pain blooms hot and sharp,and I stagger.
Breathe.Balance.Control.
I kick his leg, aiming for the knee.
He crashes to the floor.
For a heartbeat, I think it’s over.
Then his hand clamps around my ankle.
I fall.
The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. Panic flashes white-hot but training cuts through it.
Roll.
Twist free.
Get up it’s like I could hear Lorenzo.
My hands shake violently as I scramble to my feet.
But I’m standing.
The door slams open.
“Sophie.”
Lorenzo’s voice cuts through everything.
He takes in the scene in one glance.
Then he moves.
His fist connects with the man’s face once, twice precise and devastating.
The man goes still.
Lorenzo is already at my side.
“Are you hurt?”
“I think I’m okay,” I manage.
His hands skim over me, checking my body . His jaw is locked tight.
He pulls me into his chest.
Only then does the shaking really start and the tears fall.
The ride home is silent.
By the time we’re inside, the adrenaline drains from my system all at once. My hands won’t stop trembling. My stomach churns violently.
Lorenzo kneels in front of me, examining the forming bruises with reverent focus.
“You did exactly what you were taught and I’m proud of you,” he says.
The praise hits harder now.
“How did you know?” I whisper.
“You were gone too long,” he admits. “And I was watching the cameras.”
Later, I learn the truth.
One of my assigned guards.
A rat.
Feeding information. Routines. Patterns to the enemies.
The betrayal chills me deeper than fear ever could.
Lorenzo handles it the way he handles everything dangerous.
Efficiently.
That night, when he pulls me into bed, his arm wraps around me like a vow.
“I won’t let anyone touch you again,” he says into the dark.
I believe him.
I believe myself.
I fought.
I survived.
And this world knows it now.
- Writer
