For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance) (12 page)

A nervous laugh escaped her. “Sorry. I know I made you worry, but I promise, I’m alright now.”

“Perhaps you need a doctor—”

“You mean a shrink, don’t you?” she teased.

He didn’t smile back, only saying seriously, “Anything – anyone – you need,
tesoro,
you only have to tell me. I want
my Lane
back, the one who couldn’t stop licking my mouth despite everyone in the diner staring at her.”

Oh.

GOSH.

She couldn’t speak right away, with her heart feeling like it was bursting at the words. Swallowing, she said, “T-that Lane’s 90% back now. I just need more time to be…completely back.
Okay
?” And Lane held her breath, knowing that they both knew what she was really asking for was a second chance.

A moment passed.
 

Then Angelo said, “You may prove it to me later.”

Her eyes widened.
 

“We’ll have milkshake for dessert.”
 

She blushed.

Angelo laughed as he came to his feet. “I truly need to take this call,
tesoro
.” He paused. “You’ll be alright here alone?”

She nodded.

But still he hesitated to leave. “Perhaps it’s better if I have the security with you inside here, just in case your trauma comes back.”

“Angelo,” she protested. “It’s not necessary—”

But he was already nodding decisively. “Yes, I think it is better.”

And before she knew it, he was gone, and the bodyguards stationed outside were inside the dining room with her.

Unsure of the proper etiquette for dealing with personal security, she said awkwardly, “Hello.”

The two men appeared surprised.

“Good evening,
signorina
,” the shorter, burly guard said, and his older, grey-haired partner echoed his greeting.

And that was that.

One minute turned into two, and Lane started feeling suffocated again.
 

In the past two years, therapy and being part of the Mortimer family had helped her come a long way in terms of handling a trauma. She had learned to be more strategic and practical, and by mentally preparing herself for every wealthy-looking place she needed to visit, Lane had been able to control her body’s instinctive reaction.

Before her enrolment in CU, Lane had watched countless videos of the university on YouTube and spent hours memorizing its layout. Knowing where the exits helped calm her down, and when classes finally started, Lane’s efforts had paid off. She had only broken down at the end of the day. It was a major feat, considering she used to have panic attacks at the mere sight of anyone carrying a Hermes bag.
 

Ten minutes passed and there were still no signs of Angelo coming back anytime soon.

It’s okay,
Lane told herself determinedly even as tension made her feel like a ticking bomb. She tried to relax, but more and more the dining room’s tastefully lavish décor felt like it was grinning hungrily at her, turning into an inanimate monster that was just waiting, waiting for its chance—

She bolted out of her seat and ran for the doors, throwing them open. She was unaware that the guards had also burst into action the first second she moved.

“Signorina!”

She instinctively looked over her shoulder—

Oh my God, they had their guns out!

Lane froze and threw her hands up.

They reached her side in the next second.

“What’s wrong,
signorina
,” the shorter one demanded.
 

“Is Signor Valencia under threat?” the older one asked.

It took Lane more than a few moments to realize that they weren’t about to shoot her. When panic allowed her to brain to start functioning again, she cringed in horrified realization and stammered, “No, I’m sorry, it’s nothing like that.”

Their arms slowly lowered.

Unable to fault them for still looking suspicious, she apologized again, “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to startle you.” She cleared her throat. “I had a…panic attack.”

The two gazed at her like she was mental.

Well, she probably was, in their eyes.

She said, “Never mind.” Here in the hallway, it was less…
opulent,
and her body started to relax, her breath gradually returning to normal. “Can I, umm, just stay here for a sec?”

They nodded, still gazing at her like she was a living oddity.

“You don’t need to keep me company.”

“We will stay here if you please,
signorina.
It is our duty
,
” the older one said simply.

Right.

In that case—

She stuck her hand out. “I’m, umm, Lane Petersen, by the way.” While she did feel awkward because of her panic attack, Lane wasn’t at all nervous around both men. Bodyguards were the good guys, after all. Bodyguards knew where all the exits were, and more importantly, they weren’t filthy rich.

The shorter guard was the first to answer, saying, “It is nice to meet you, signorina. I am Fico.”

“And I am Umberto,” the older one said.

But both didn’t make any move to shake her hand, forcing to Lane to hide her ignored hand in her pocket.
I hope they don’t think I was being aggressive,
she thought worriedly. It did not occur to Lane at all that both Fico and Umberto considered a handshake with her as something above their station.
 

Silence again.

Determined to befriend them, she asked, “So…have you guys been working for Angelo long?”

The guards exchanged looks, thinking that this was the first woman their employer dated who hadn’t treated them like they were invisible.

“I’ve been with the boss for four years,
signorina,
” Fico offered.

“Five for me,” Umberto said.
 

“And how is it, working for him?” she asked curiously. “Because I was his student once last semester, and as a professor, he was very much easygoing.” She thought of how all the girls in her class had fallen for him, and she added glumly, “Too charming for his own good, too.”

Fico and Umberto struggled to hide their grins. They were used to the boss’ dates being jealous and possessive and had considered it unbecoming. But somehow, this little one was different.

“He is the same as a boss,” Fico said. “But he is also a perfectionist,
signorina.
He expects us to show the same dedication he does to his own work.”

“Can you tell me stories about him?” she asked eagerly.
 

“What kind of stories?”

“Any. Like, what does he do when you have to drive him and he’s all alone in the backseat?”
 

“Well…”

And so the bodyguards ended up taking the role of storyteller with the boss’ date as their eager and appreciative audience.
 

Lane giggled and gasped at their stories, and she was so entranced that she failed to hear the sound of incoming footsteps, failed to sense what her sixth sense was warning her about—

By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late.

Three men were heading their way. They were about Angelo’s age, all of them attractive, well-dressed, and completely intoxicated.

“Are you certain Valencia won’t mind?”

“We’re going to share with him the hottest little M in town. What’s there to complain about?”

“She cost us a pretty sum, too, so that girl better be worth every fucking dollar.”

The laughter that followed made Lane’s skin crawl.

“
Fucking. Dollar. Get it?”

This time, all men laughed, and Lane wanted to throw up.

Her throat was tightening, and she could literally feel herself running out of oxygen.

She saw them and she didn’t see them, her mind shoved back into the past.

It was her first time to meet her grandfather, and he had told Lane he wanted to speak in private with Laura. So she had left them, standing obediently outside the door, fidgeting with excitement.

And when the waiting had become intolerable, she had giggled and tiptoed to the door, pressing her ear to it—

“Blow me, slut, and maybe, just maybe I’ll let you in my household. My daughter-in-law during the day, my whore at night—

When she opened her eyes, it was to find the three men staring at her, and she could see her grandfather in every one of them.

Her grandfather, one of his hometown’s wealthiest and most outstanding citizens—

Her grandfather, whose heart was as rotten as the pimps and prostitutes she had grown up with—

Her grandfather, who had been the first person in her life to use the word ‘slut’ in her presence—

One of them stepped forward, his lascivious gaze running over Lane’s curves. Without taking his eyes off her, he licked his lips and asked the guards, “Is she Angelo’s newest plaything?”

Fico and Umberto stiffened, both of them reluctant to answer the question. The truth was, all the women their employer had brought to the house had indeed been playthings. And while they wanted to think this new one was different—

The men started to crowd towards her.

I’m not going to panic,
she told herself determinedly.
 

But then one of them laughed, the sound an exact mirror of how her grandfather had laughed at her face when he told Lane her mother would always be a slut in his eyes—

Lane screamed.

Chapter Eight

A luxuriously appointed bedroom gradually came into view as Lane’s eyes slowly drifted open. As her sight cleared, her memory returned, every sickening second of it. She quickly turned, her heart racing at the thought that perhaps the men were in the same room—

But all she saw was her fallen angel seated by her bedside, his back rigidly straight, a taut look on his handsome face.

“Angelo?” She pushed herself up on the bed, moving too quickly for her own good, and her temples throbbed.

“Don’t move so fast.” His voice was quiet and reserved, and she didn’t know what to make of it. “Take a sip.” He held a glass of her water to her lips, holding it for her, and she slowly took a sip while gazing at him.

But his face gave nothing away.

She watched him set the glass back on the table when she was done, and when he turned to her, she blurted out worriedly, “T-the party?”

“You don’t have to worry about it,” he answered briefly. “It’s all been taken cared of.”

Her heart squeezed as she translated his polite answer to one word:
canceled.
She gazed at him uncertainly, wondering if that was why he seemed so distant.

“I have a doctor waiting outside,” Angelo was saying, “and I would appreciate it if you allow him to check on you.”

Knowing he wasn’t really giving her a choice, she nodded.
 

“Good.” He stood up and left the room, and unease stirred inside of her. This tension…it didn’t feel like it was just about the party anymore. Something was really wrong. She just wished she knew what it was.

When the door opened again, it was the doctor, and the usual questions were asked. She answered them calmly and truthfully. She knew, after tonight, there was no point hiding anything. When the doctor departed, Angelo came back a few moments later.

She looked at him, and Lane thought,
He knew.

And he did.

Angelo lowered himself back on the padded chair next to her bed. “Do you want the good news or bad news first?”

“Good,” she said automatically.

“You’re not suffering from any concussion, and after a good night’s sleep, the doctor believes you’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”