Chapter Seventeen: Protect You

Chapter Seventeen: Protect You
Chapter Seventeen: Protect You

Elena’s POV

The night was heavy with silence. The DeLuca estate felt like a cage. I sat in my room, staring at the ceiling. Lorenzo’s words from earlier echoed in my mind. You’re in my head, Elena. All the time. They made my heart race. They made me angry. I didn’t want to feel anything for him. Not after Giuliana. Not after his secrets. But my body didn’t listen. It remembered his closeness, his breath, the heat in his eyes.

I couldn’t sleep. The news about Giuliana working with the Morettis kept me awake. She wasn’t just a ghost from Lorenzo’s past. She was a danger now. She wanted me gone. I felt trapped, caught between anger at Lorenzo and fear of what was coming.

A soft knock broke my thoughts. I sat up, my heart pounding. “Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s me,” Lorenzo said. His voice was low, tired.

I hesitated. I didn’t want to see him. But something pulled me to the door. I opened it. Lorenzo stood there, his shirt unbuttoned, hair messy. His eyes were dark, full of worry. He looked different—vulnerable, not the cold mafia boss I was used to. My stomach twisted.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

I crossed my arms. “Why?”

“I need to talk to you,” he said. “Please.”

I stepped aside. He walked in, closing the door. The room felt smaller with him in it. His cologne—wood and spice—filled the air. It made my skin tingle. I hated it. I hated how he made me feel.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice sharp.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I owe you the truth. About Giuliana. About everything.”

I sat on the bed, keeping distance between us. “Go on, then. Tell me.”

He paced, then stopped. “Giuliana was part of my life before you,” he said. “We were close, but it ended. I didn’t know she was with the Morettis. I swear, Elena.”

I looked away. “You should’ve told me she was back. You should’ve told me she’s a threat.”

“I know,” he said. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. His knee brushed mine. I froze, my breath catching. “I didn’t want to scare you. I thought I could handle it.”

I laughed, bitter. “Handle it? Like you handled her touching you?”

His eyes darkened. “That was a mistake. I told you. I’m not perfect, Elena.”

I stood, needing space. “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t fix anything.”

He stood too, stepping closer. “I’m trying. I don’t know how to do this—us. But I’m trying.”

His voice was raw. It hit me hard. I looked at him, really looked. His face was tired, his eyes full of pain. For a moment, I saw the man, not the mafia boss. My anger softened, but I pushed it down. “Trying isn’t enough,” I said.

He moved closer. Too close. My back hit the wall. His body was inches away. I could feel his heat, his strength. My heart raced. “What is enough?” he asked, his voice low. “Tell me, Elena. What do you want from me?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came. His eyes locked on mine. They were intense, burning. I felt a pull, like a magnet. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to pull him closer. “I don’t know,” I whispered.

He leaned in. His breath was warm on my face. “I think you do,” he said. His hand lifted, slow, like he was afraid I’d run. His fingers brushed my cheek. My skin burned where he touched me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.

“Lorenzo,” I said, my voice shaky. “Don’t.”

But he didn’t stop. His hand slid to my neck, gentle but firm. His thumb traced my jaw. My body trembled. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his lips close to mine. “Say it, and I will.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My mind screamed to push him away, but my body wanted him closer. His lips brushed mine, soft at first, testing. I gasped, and then he kissed me. It was slow, deep, full of need. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me against him. I felt his heart beating, fast like mine. My hands found his chest, gripping his shirt. I kissed him back, hard, pouring all my anger, all my want into it.

The world disappeared. It was just us, just this moment. His lips were warm, demanding. His hands tightened on my hips, pressing me closer. I felt his strength, his desire. It scared me. It thrilled me. I didn’t know who I was anymore.

Then I remembered Giuliana. I remembered his secrets. I pulled back, breathless. “Stop,” I said, my voice weak.

He froze, his hands still on me. His eyes were dark, searching mine. “Elena,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m sorry. I—”

“No,” I said, stepping away. My body ached from where he’d touched me. My lips still tingled. “You don’t get to do this. Not after everything.”

He looked hurt, like I’d slapped him. “I meant it,” he said. “I want you, Elena. Not her. Not anyone else.”

I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “I don’t believe you. I can’t.”

He stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. “I’ll prove it,” he said. “I will.”

He left, the door closing softly. I sank onto the bed, my body shaking. The kiss burned in my mind. I wanted him. I hated him. I didn’t know what to feel. My heart was a mess, torn between desire and distrust.

The next morning, I avoided Lorenzo. I stayed in the art studio, but I couldn’t paint. My hands shook too much. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his lips, his hands. It made me angry. It made me want more. I hated myself for it.

Sophia came to the studio at noon. She sat on a stool, watching me. “You look different,” she said. “What happened?”

I didn’t look at her. “Nothing,” I said.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re lying. I know you.”

I sighed, setting down my brush. “Lorenzo came to my room last night. We… talked.”

She leaned forward. “Talked? Or something else?”

My cheeks burned. “He kissed me,” I said, my voice low.

Her eyes widened. “And?”

“And I stopped it,” I said. “But… I didn’t want to.”

She smiled, soft. “You feel something for him. It’s okay to admit it.”

“No, it’s not,” I said, standing. “He hurt me. He lied about Giuliana. And now she’s with the Morettis, trying to hurt us.”

Sophia’s smile faded. “I know it’s hard. But Lorenzo’s trying. He’s not perfect, but he cares about you.”

I turned away. “Caring isn’t enough. Not when I can’t trust him.”

She stood, touching my arm. “Give it time, Elena. You’ll figure it out.”

She left, and I stared at the canvas. My heart was heavy. I wanted to believe Lorenzo. I wanted to feel safe with him. But the memory of Giuliana, of his secrets, held me back. And that kiss—it made everything worse.

That afternoon, Marco came to the studio. His face was serious. “Elena, we have a problem,” he said.

My stomach dropped. “What now?”

“The Morettis sent a message,” he said. “They want a meeting. Tonight. And they want you there.”

“Me?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Why?”

He hesitated. “They say it’s about you. About your marriage to Lorenzo.”

Fear gripped me. Giuliana was behind this. I knew it. “Does Lorenzo know?” I asked.

Marco nodded. “He’s furious. He doesn’t want you there. But they’re insisting.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m going,” I said.

Marco frowned. “Elena, it’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “If they’re targeting me, I need to know why.”

He sighed. “I’ll tell Lorenzo. Be ready by seven.”

That evening, I dressed in a simple black dress. My hands shook as I fixed my hair. I didn’t want to face the Morettis. I didn’t want to see Giuliana. But I needed answers.

Lorenzo met me in the hallway. He looked powerful in his dark suit, but his eyes were worried. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “I’m not hiding.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing mine. The touch sent sparks through me. I pulled back, my heart racing. “Don’t,” I said, my voice sharp.

He nodded, but his eyes were intense. “Stay close to me tonight,” he said. “Please.”

I didn’t answer. We walked to the car in silence. The drive was tense. Lorenzo sat beside me, his leg touching mine. I felt the heat of him, the pull. I looked out the window, trying to ignore it.

The meeting was in a warehouse. It was dark, cold. The Morettis were waiting. Five men, all in suits. And then I saw her—Giuliana. She stood with them, her red dress bright in the dim light. Her eyes locked on me, sharp and cold. My stomach twisted.

“Welcome,” said an older man, their leader. “I’m Carlo Moretti.”

Lorenzo stepped forward, his hand on my back. The touch was protective, but it made my skin burn. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice hard.

Carlo smiled. “We want peace. But first, we talk about her.” He pointed at me.

I stiffened. Lorenzo’s hand tightened on my back. “Leave her out of this,” he said.

Giuliana laughed, stepping forward. “She’s the problem, Lorenzo. You married her, and now your family is weak.”

Lorenzo’s eyes blazed. “You don’t get to talk about my wife,” he said.

The word wife hit me hard. I looked at him, my heart racing. He meant it. I could see it in his eyes. But Giuliana’s words stung. Was I making him weak?

Carlo raised a hand. “Enough. We propose a deal. Give us the east docks, and we leave her alone.”

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched. “No deal,” he said. “You don’t touch her.”

Giuliana smirked. “You can’t protect her forever, Lorenzo.”

I stepped forward, angry. “I’m not afraid of you,” I said to her.

She laughed, cold. “You should be.”

Lorenzo pulled me back, his hand firm on my arm. “We’re done here,” he said. He led me out, his grip tight. I felt his anger, his fear. And something else—something that made my body hum.

In the car, we were silent. His hand rested on the seat, close to mine. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to scream at him. The kiss from last night burned in my mind. I hated how much I wanted him.

When we got home, he followed me to my room. “Elena, wait,” he said.

I turned, my heart pounding. “What?”

He stepped close, his eyes dark. “I meant what I said. I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

His voice was soft, but it carried weight. I felt the pull again, stronger now. I stepped back, but he followed, his body close. “Lorenzo, I can’t do this,” I said.

He touched my face, gentle. “I know I hurt you. But I’m here. I’m yours.”

His words broke something in me. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to kiss him again. But I remembered Giuliana. I remembered the lies. “I don’t trust you,” I said, tears falling.

He nodded, stepping back. “I’ll wait,” he said. “As long as it takes.”

He left, and I closed the door. My body ached for him. My heart wanted him. But my mind screamed to stay away. I sank to the floor, torn apart. The Morettis were coming. Giuliana was watching. And Lorenzo—he was my weakness, my danger, my desire. I didn’t know how to survive this.