Chapter Eighteen: Different

Chapter Eighteen: Different
Chapter Eighteen : Different 

Elena’s POV

The morning after the warehouse meeting felt wrong. The air in the DeLuca estate was thick, like a storm was coming. I sat in my room, staring at the window. My lips still tingled from Lorenzo’s kiss. My heart was a mess. I wanted him so much it hurt, but I couldn’t trust him. Giuliana’s smirk from last night haunted me. She was with the Morettis now, plotting against us. Against me. I felt trapped, like a bird in a cage.

I didn’t want to see Lorenzo. Not after last night. His words—I’m yours—kept replaying in my head. They made my chest tight. They made me angry. How could he say that after everything? After Giuliana? After keeping secrets? But my body didn’t care. It remembered his touch, his breath, the way he pulled me close. I hated it. I hated him. Or maybe I didn’t.

I needed to clear my mind. I went to the art studio. The smell of paint usually calmed me, but today it didn’t. I picked up a brush, but my hand shook. I couldn’t paint. All I could see was Lorenzo’s face, his dark eyes burning into mine. I dropped the brush and sat on the floor, my head in my hands.

A knock at the door made me jump. “Who is it?” I called.

“It’s me,” Lorenzo said. His voice was soft, careful.

My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to face him, but I couldn’t run. “Come in,” I said, my voice flat.

The door opened. Lorenzo stepped inside. He wore a dark shirt and jeans, his hair messy. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept. His eyes found mine, and I felt that pull again, like a rope tying us together. I looked away, my cheeks hot.

“What do you want?” I asked.

He closed the door and leaned against it. “I needed to see you,” he said. “After last night… I couldn’t stay away.”

I stood, crossing my arms. “You should. It’s better that way.”

He stepped closer. Too close. I could smell his cologne—wood and spice. It made my skin tingle. “Is it?” he asked. “Because I don’t think you mean that.”

I glared at him. “Don’t tell me what I mean. You don’t know me.”

He tilted his head, his eyes soft. “I’m trying to, Elena. I want to know you.”

His words hit me hard. I wanted to believe him, but the memory of Giuliana stopped me. “You say that, but you kept secrets,” I said. “You didn’t tell me about her. You let her get close.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up. I know. But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

I turned away, my heart racing. “That’s not enough,” I said. “Not after everything.”

He moved closer, his footsteps soft. I felt him behind me, his heat so close I could barely breathe. “Elena,” he said, his voice low. “Look at me.”

I didn’t want to. But I turned. His face was inches away. His eyes were dark, full of something I couldn’t name—pain, want, maybe both. My breath caught. He reached out, slow, like he was afraid I’d run. His fingers brushed my arm. My skin burned where he touched me.

“Don’t,” I said, but my voice was weak.

He didn’t move his hand. His fingers slid up my arm, soft but firm. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “About last night. About that kiss.”

My cheeks flushed. I remembered it too—the way his lips felt, the way his hands pulled me close. I wanted to forget, but I couldn’t. “It was a mistake,” I said, stepping back.

He followed, his body close. “Was it?” he asked. His hand moved to my face, cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed my lip. I shivered, my body betraying me. “Because it didn’t feel like a mistake.”

I closed my eyes, trying to fight the pull. “Lorenzo, please,” I whispered. “I can’t do this.”

He leaned closer. His breath was warm on my face. “Then tell me to stop,” he said. “Say it, and I will.”

I opened my eyes. His face was so close, his lips almost touching mine. My heart pounded. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to pull him closer. I didn’t say anything. He took it as permission. His lips pressed against mine, soft at first, then deeper. I melted into him, my hands gripping his shirt. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight. The kiss was fire, burning away my anger, my fear, for just a moment.

His hands slid down my back, strong and warm. I felt his heart beating, fast like mine. My body hummed, alive in a way it hadn’t been before. I kissed him back, hard, pouring all my confusion into it. It was wrong, but it felt right. Too right.

Then I heard her voice in my head—Giuliana’s laugh, cold and sharp. I pulled back, gasping. “No,” I said, my voice shaking. “We can’t.”

Lorenzo’s eyes were dark, his breath heavy. “Elena,” he said, reaching for me.

I stepped away, tears in my eyes. “You don’t get it,” I said. “I want you, but I don’t trust you. Every time I let you in, I see her.”

His face fell. He looked like I’d hit him. “I’m not with her,” he said. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know how to believe you.”

He stood there, silent. The air was heavy, full of things we couldn’t say. “I’ll wait,” he said finally. “I’ll prove it to you.”

He left, the door closing softly. I sank to the floor, my body trembling. The kiss burned in my mind. I wanted him so much it scared me. But the fear of being hurt again was stronger. I didn’t know what to do.

Later that day, Sophia came to the studio. She sat on a stool, watching me try to paint. My brush moved slow, the colors dull. “You’re quiet today,” she said.

I shrugged. “Just thinking.”

She smiled, soft. “About Lorenzo?”

I didn’t answer. My cheeks burned. She knew me too well.

“He’s trying, Elena,” she said. “I’ve never seen him like this. He’s… different with you.”

I set down my brush. “It doesn’t matter. He lied about Giuliana. And now she’s with the Morettis, trying to hurt us.”

Sophia’s face grew serious. “I know. It’s bad. But Lorenzo’s doing everything he can to protect you.”

I looked away. “I don’t need his protection. I need the truth.”

She touched my hand. “Give him a chance. He’s not perfect, but he cares about you.”

I pulled my hand back. “Caring isn’t enough,” I said. “Not when I can’t trust him.”

She sighed and stood. “Just think about it, okay?”

After she left, I tried to paint again, but my mind was too full. Lorenzo’s kiss, Giuliana’s smirk, the Moretti threat—it all swirled together. I felt like I was drowning.

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

My heart sank. “What now?”

“The Morettis hit one of our warehouses,” he said. “Last night. After the meeting. They stole weapons and left a message.”

I stood, my hands shaking. “What message?”

He hesitated. “It was for you. They wrote your name in blood on the wall.”

My stomach twisted. I felt sick. “Giuliana,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Marco nodded. “We think so. Lorenzo’s meeting with his men now. He’s furious.”

I clenched my fists. “Where is he?”

“In his office,” Marco said. “But maybe you should—”

I didn’t wait. I stormed out, my shoes loud on the marble floor. Fear and anger mixed inside me. Giuliana was coming for me. And Lorenzo—he was in the middle of it all.

I reached his office and pushed the door open. Lorenzo stood at his desk, talking to Antonio and another man. They stopped when they saw me. Lorenzo’s eyes met mine, full of worry. “Elena,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t,” I said, my voice sharp. “Marco told me. The warehouse. My name in blood. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed, stepping toward me. “I was going to. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry?” I laughed, bitter. “I’m past worrying, Lorenzo. They’re targeting me because of you.”

His jaw tightened. “I know. And I’m handling it.”

“How?” I asked. “By keeping more secrets? By letting Giuliana run this game?”

Antonio coughed, looking away. The other man shifted, uncomfortable. Lorenzo glared at them, then back at me. “I’m not letting her do anything,” he said. “I’m meeting the Morettis again tomorrow. I’ll end this.”

I stepped closer, angry. “And what if you can’t? What if she comes for me? What then?”

He grabbed my arms, gentle but firm. His touch sent sparks through me, even now. “I won’t let that happen,” he said. “I swear, Elena. I’ll keep you safe.”

His voice was fierce, his eyes burning. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to lean into him, to feel his arms around me. But I remembered the kiss, the lies, the blood on the wall. “I don’t know if I can trust you,” I said, pulling away.

He let go, his hands falling. “I’ll show you,” he said. “I’ll fix this.”

I turned and left, my heart heavy. His touch lingered on my skin, making me ache. I hated how much I wanted him. I hated how much I feared him.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I paced my room, the warehouse message stuck in my mind. My name in blood. Giuliana’s doing. She wanted to scare me, to break me. And Lorenzo—he was trying to protect me, but his world was the reason I was in danger. I didn’t know what to feel.

There was a knock at my door. I froze, my heart racing. “Who is it?” I called.

“It’s me,” Lorenzo said.

I opened the door. He stood there, his shirt open at the collar, his eyes tired but intense. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I needed to see you.”

I stepped back, letting him in. The room felt small with him in it. “What do you want?” I asked.

He moved closer, slow, like he was afraid I’d run. “I want you to know I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything. For Giuliana, for the secrets, for dragging you into this.”

I looked at him, my chest tight. “Why me, Lorenzo? Why did you marry me?”

He hesitated, then stepped closer. His hand brushed mine, sending a shiver through me. “At first, it was duty,” he said. “My family needed the alliance. But now… it’s you, Elena. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His words hit me like a wave. I wanted to push him away, but my body leaned closer. He noticed, his eyes darkening. He lifted his hand, slow, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, warm on my skin. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice low. “But I want you.”

My breath caught. The air was thick, charged. I felt the pull, stronger than ever. “Lorenzo,” I said, my voice trembling. “I can’t.”

He leaned closer, his forehead touching mine. “Then why aren’t you stopping me?” he asked.

I didn’t have an answer. His lips brushed mine, soft, hesitant. My body reacted before my mind could stop it. I kissed him back, my hands gripping his shirt. The kiss was slow, deep, full of everything we couldn’t say. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer. I felt his warmth, his strength. For a moment, I forgot everything—Giuliana, the Morettis, the danger.

Then reality crashed in. I pulled back, tears in my eyes. “I can’t do this,” I said. “I want you, but I don’t trust you.”

He looked at me, his eyes raw. “I’ll earn it,” he said. “I’ll prove you can trust me.”

He left, and I closed the door, my body shaking. The kiss burned in my mind, mixing with my fear, my anger. Giuliana was out there, plotting. The Morettis were closing in. And Lorenzo—he was my weakness, my danger, my everything. I didn’t know how to survive this. I didn’t know if I could.