Chapter 38 Thirty - eight

Chapter 38 Thirty - eight
My heartbeat slowly calms from its violent pounding by the time I eventually regain my composure. It took every ounce of my self-control, but I pull myself together anyway, choosing to let the anger fade.

Since there's not much I can do about it, I convince myself that he's not worth the trouble.

Exhaling sharply, I cast a glance at the mirror to observe my reflection once more, and also the stunning necklace around my neck. A rush of thrill ripples through me, and excitement flickers across my pale expression.

This is seriously the best gift ever since it easily lifted my spirits with the knowledge that I still have it on.

Anyway, recalling that my husband is downstairs waiting for me and the warning he gave me that I shouldn't waste any more of his time, I move away from the mirror and head over to grab my Birkin handbag from the table where I placed it earlier.

There's not much to carry along since I'm a newbie who knows absolutely nothing about the role of a secretary.

So without further stalling, I make my way to the exit and step out of my room. Surprisingly, I don't find the permanent bodyguards he stationed outside my room.

I don't know whether to call this progress because, before now, he would never let either of them leave my doorpost for any reason.

My pulse thrums with anxiety as I carefully descend the stairs, holding onto the railing for support because I feel like my legs keep wavering with each step.

It's not my first time wearing stilettos, but strangely, I no longer know how to walk properly in them.

Regardless, I maintain my composure and try to calm my raging nerves. Lorenzo is on his phone when I eventually reach the last step.

He must notice my presence because he spares me a glance, his intense, ruthless grey orbs locking with mine as he puts his phone away.

Despite his expression being naturally unreadable, I think I notice an emotion flicker across his features as his gaze roams all over me like he's seeing me for the first time today.

I don't know what to make of that. His piercing gaze isn't exactly gentle, and it doesn't make me feel any better.

I try not to swallow the lump in my throat, but it's a futile attempt. I gulp down the block that has lodged there as I avoid his eyes, feeling like my heart is about to escape from my chest with how violently it keeps thundering.

From my peripheral vision, I notice someone moving on my left side. I instantly catch the whiff of her scent, and when I finally direct my attention there out of curiosity, my eyes clash with Carmen's silvery-grey ones.

My pulse skips a beat, my chest sinking.

There's a subtle look of approval in her expression as she takes in my appearance. She doesn't say anything to me, of course. And that hurts more than anything. But she gives me a curt nod before redirecting her gaze and focusing her attention elsewhere.

The silent treatment from her is seriously another form of torture around this house, but knowing there's nothing I can do about it, I swallow my defeat, my heart breaking.

I wonder when she will finally forgive me for my mistakes. It's crazy to label what I did as mistakes since my attempt to run away was a deliberate decision, but still, I wonder when she will understand why I did it and hope she will forgive me.

This house is no fun without her. She's far more endearing than her overbearing brother.

Speak of the devil...

"We're late, mi esposa. Come on," Lorenzo's firm voice drags me out of my depressed thoughts.

I let out another sigh, keeping my composure before returning my focus to him.

Forcing a smile that doesn't reach my eyes, I nod at him in acknowledgement.

He doesn't say anything else before leading the way out of the mansion, with me trailing behind him like his newest pet.

The drive to his company is an exhilarating one, especially considering he has me sit in the back seat with him despite my insistence on sitting in the passenger seat.

But of course, he doesn't give two fucks about my discomfort and orders me to get in the back in that annoying voice of his.

My goodness, I can't count the number of times I nearly shove my head out of the tinted window because I keep inhaling him. And whenever I do, heat tends to sear through me unapologetically, teasing my clenching core. I genuinely can't explain the reason behind that reaction.

I don't even like him—I should feel repulsed just by sitting here with him. But everything that happens turns out to be the complete opposite.

I shift in my seat again for the fifth time since the car ride began, feeling like my ass is on fire. Pints of wetness keep pooling at my pulsing entrance each time his cologne wafts into my nostrils, triggering the memories of my punishment three days ago.

Believe me, I try so hard not to dwell on those thoughts, but it's a futile effort. They keep crashing over me like a sin from my past that I'm trying to run away from.

And it doesn't help that each time I look at him, I'm met with his lethal side profile. He's so ruthlessly attractive; it's infuriating that someone can be this handsome.

Looking away from him, I draw in a shaky breath, hoping to God he doesn't notice. Actually, hoping fervently that he hasn't been noticing my subtle, strange movements since we took off.

I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling on it to release some of the tension as we drive through the streets of New York City.

Just when I thought I was getting away with my constant ogling of him and reminiscing about how he made me orgasm three days ago, his voice breaks the silence that has settled in the car.

"Are you nervous?" he asks, and I don't miss the permanent taunt in his tone.

I don't spare him a glance, but I feel his piercing gaze drilling a hole into my temples anyway.

I guess I was wrong to assume he hasn't been taking note of my tiny reactions. He never misses anything with those watchful eyes of his, so why the hell did I even assume that in the first place?

Nonetheless, I respond with a lie, just like I did the first time he asked when we were in my room.

"I-I'm not nervous. Why would I be?"

"Your stuttering and uncertain reply don't exactly play in your favor."

I clear my throat, still avoiding his prying gaze. "I'm not nervous," I say again quietly.

He tsks. "If you insist."

I hold back the urge to roll my eyes, but I definitely don't hesitate to curse him in my head.

My heart rate spikes, but I ignore the feeling.

We finally arrive at the parking lot of probably the most gigantic building I've seen in the city—and there are a lot of gigantic buildings in New York.

Lorenzo's voice sails into my ears as the chauffeur carefully maneuvers into what I assume is his own private parking space, given the small metal plate with bold fonts attached to the pillar that reads, 'CEO.'

"Alec will put you through everything you should know about being my secretary. Make sure to listen to him. He could be a pain in the ass, so let me know if he's giving you any trouble..."

I drag my eyes away from the view outside that I was admiring and meet Lorenzo's dark eyes.

I swallow and ask, my forehead scrunching with curiosity, "Who's Alec?"

He replies, "My consigliere."

His consigliere is Alec?

Although the name doesn't ring any bells, I'm sure I might have seen him around Lorenzo before. He probably came to the hospital with him while I was still admitted.

Anyway, I guess there's nothing to fuss about.

Whoever this Alec is, I'm sure I can handle taking instructions from him. But why did my husband say he could be a pain in the ass?

Is he trying to imply there's someone out there more infuriating than himself?

I wonder.