Chapter 160: Flattering Will Get You Nowhere

SANCIA

My stomach has been in knots since I woke up, knowing Lorenzo is coming here today. The last time I'd seen him was three nights ago, when he just left after he drove us home. No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t help but think he was hiding something.

And I suspect it’s about his memories, and I can't help but be scared, knowing Sergio and Isabella’s lives are probably in danger. Knowing Lorenzo’s vengeful streak, if he recalled his memories, he’s not going to forgive Isabella just because she’s my sister.

God, I still can't believe he's alive. To explain the emotions twisting me inside, I'll have to understand them myself.

I was in the kitchen, watching Zetta and Guilia busy themselves preparing several different dishes, all Diavolo’s favorites.

To say they're ecstatic would be an understatement. Zetta had been talking to Lorenzo about how he’d always been a good but misunderstood person, while Guilia smiled and chipped in her own bit.

I’d just listened, not wanting to start an argument, because nothing I say will convince them he’s not the angel they make him out to be. But I couldn't help snickering in my mind.

I hadn't slept as much as I did that night, after we came home from the hospital. It was pretty much late, somewhere between dawn and early morning. I’d fallen asleep almost the instant my back hit the bed. And that was it; the following days were filled with pure confusion and panic.

I’d just woken up from a late evening nap after I came home from work to find it was already night. I'm surprised Dario hadn’t woken me up, but I'm glad he’d let me take the much-needed rest. At least, I’m feeling better than I did when I got home.

I was quietly sipping my cup of hot, Zetta had put down with a plate of pastries before dinner was ready. Dario was on the floor, making car noises to himself while watching his toy cars race down the track.

When I heard the doorbell ring, I already knew it was him.

“I think that's Signore Lorenzo,” Zetta said, looking at me expectantly. I took another bite of my cannoli, outwardly unbothered by her announcement, inwardly my heart beating triple time.

“Signora, you should probably welcome him in,” she said when I didn't make any move to do so.

I snickered. “Trust me, Zetta, he knows his way in. I didn't invite him the last time he was here, and yet he found his way to my room.”

She muttered something under her breath, rolled her eyes, and then walked out of the kitchen. I shrugged and went back to sipping my coffee.

A few minutes later, she was back with him in tow, heat curled low in my belly when I laid my eyes on him, and even after all this time, my heart stuttered beneath my ribcage.

I took another sip of my coffee and choked. I suddenly started coughing, and his eyes instantly caught mine.

The devil stopped at the threshold. He was in a charcoal grey suit that cost more than my car. Diamond studs on both ears, his face shaved clean, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass.

Three years, and he still had the same effect on me. The newly added scars and shaved head should have made him look bad, like toning down his gorgeousness a notch or two, but instead, they made him even hotter.

Something colder lurks behind those familiar honey-brown eyes. That same darkness, Lorenzo was the same man who had wrecked my world, the villain in my life story, and yet he was different.

“It's so good to see you, Signor,” Zetta greeted. As she showed him inside, her face was brightly lit with her contagious smile.

“It’s good to see you, Zetta,” he replied, grinning. “How have you all been?” They chatted for a few seconds before his eyes shifted to me.

I stared at him, eyes narrowed as he walked towards me, although his heart was clearly divided by the way he kept staring at Dario. He leaned over my shoulder, his mouth at my ear.

“You look beautiful as always, Sancia,” he murmured low, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. Goosebumps spread over my arms as the hair on my nape stands on end.

“Flattery will get you nowhere," I hissed, trying to ignore how much his closeness affected me. “And I'll have you know I was born beautiful.”

He chuckled low and straightened. “I don’t doubt it.” I squirm when his hand brushes my neck, and I frown, wondering if he’d just touch me. Instead, I found his eyes fixed on Dario, who was so busy he hadn’t noticed him yet.

“He looks just like me when I was a boy,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “What’s he like?”

Emotion so raw and intense swells inside me; it's the first time I'm seeing Lorenzo so nervous. To see someone as arrogant and confident as Lorenzo be nervous about meeting his two-year-old was something I never expected, and the revelation did something to me.

I’d always told Dario about him; I'd shown him pics, and after what happened two days ago, I decided to tell him his daddy is coming to see him so that it wouldn’t come as a surprise.

I know right now he won't understand much, but over time, he’ll come to understand Lorenzo's role in his life.

“He’s perfect, curious, a bit shy around strangers,” I whispered with a soft smile. “But he could talk your ear off when he gets to really know you, and he’s comfortable around you.”

Something flashed over his face, but it was quickly gone before I could decipher it, as we quietly watched our son play with his toys.

“He’s big for his age.”

“He is,” I agreed. I glanced up at Lorenzo, and something in his expression was so familiar that I blurted. “Are you ready to meet him?”

He looked at me like I'd asked him whether he was ready to go to war. “I don’t think I know how to be a father, Sancia,” he confessed, making my heart ache.

“Especially a good one, I'd never had one worth aspiring to.”

He takes my hand gently. That stubborn, determined look lit his face. “But I'm going to learn. I swear to you, our son will never live the kind of childhood I did; this I promise you.”

The confession wasn't made to garner sympathy, but rather an acknowledgment of his past.

“I believe you,” I said, giving him a soft, genuine smile, because I do believe him. “I’ll make sure you do,” I added, and he chuckled loudly, his eyes twinkling.

“Momma?” Dario called, finally noticing Lorenzo. He looked between us with a little, cute frown. I smiled as I nodded to Lorenzo.

“Bebe.” I walked closer, and Lorenzo followed slowly.

I knelt before Dario, Lorenzo watching us, “Dario, I want you to meet someone,” I began softly.

“Do you remember your Papa’s picture?” His eyes flick to his carbon copy, and then back to me.

“Papa?” he asks.

“Sì, il mio bambino è il tuo papà.” (Yes, my baby, he's your papa.) I smiled at him, stroking his soft hair. I turned to Lorenzo and nodded.

He swallowed, then knelt to eye level just like I did. “Hello Dario, I'm Lorenzo,” He said, stretching his hand.