For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance) (8 page)

“I’m glad.”
 

She blinked at the unexpected answer.
Huh?
 

“Because I also knew you’re a masochist.” His tone was light, but his gaze was watchful and serious.

She forced herself to laugh, saying, “Sure, you did.”

He said agreeably, “From the very start.”

Chapter Five

Some girls talked a mile a minute to cover their awkwardness, and Lane wished she could be like them. Unfortunately, she wasn’t, and all she could do was walk beside Angelo in uneasy silence and concentrate on not tripping over her feet…or tongue.

Sadist. Masochist.

Just thinking of the words made her head hurt. If only he was joking. But he was not. She had seen the look in Angelo Valencia’s gaze, and she knew he believed he was…that, and she was…the other.
 

Sadist. Masochist.

She swallowed back a sigh.
I’ll never use big words again,
she thought glumly. If she had just called him ‘unfair,’ then maybe it would have ended there, and there wouldn’t be this weird, tense atmosphere—

“Lane—”

She practically jumped in shock, not expecting him to suddenly talk, and he frowned. “Are you okay?” She cleared her throat. “Yup.” As okay as one would be, after finding out the guy she had been crushing on apparently believed she was the type of person who got off being hurt.

And that was not true, she told herself. Not. True.

But a tiny part of her was not convinced, and this was what worried Lane the most.

To distract herself and to keep him from talking about things she didn’t want to know about, she pointed towards the intersection, saying unnecessarily, “We just cross the street, and that’s where Millie’s is.” When Angelo only nodded, she relaxed slightly, and they crossed the street in somewhat comfortable silence.

“Here it is,” she said as they reached the diner.
 

“It looks wonderfully quaint.” Angelo considered it thoughtfully, remembering that this was where she had waited for him that first day.
And he hadn’t shown up,
he thought grimly,
because of that boy.
 

Noticing the grim look on his face, she asked worriedly, “Are you really sure this is okay?”

Realizing she must have misinterpreted his mood, he told her, “This place is good as any.” At her unconvinced look, he said gently, “I’m no snob,
tesoro
.” And not giving her time to answer, he pushed the door open for her, murmuring politely, “Shall we?”

“You remind me of Ray,” he heard her mumble as she stepped past him.

“I see. Is he your brother?”

“Oh, no. We’re not blood related.”

His lips compressed. He wanted to ask who the hell Ray was, but pride forbade him to utter a word about it.
 

“Ray’s my—”

A waitress cut her off, calling out to Lane cheerfully, and Angelo wanted to cheerfully strangle the other woman for her ill timing.
Just when he was about to find out who Ray was
, he thought broodingly.
 

“I thought you were flying back home,” the waitress was exclaiming as she led them to the only vacant booth left.
 

“Yeah, well…” Lane slid inside one side of the booth but stayed at the outer edge so Angelo would have no choice but to sit opposite her.

Angelo raised a brow at the seating arrangement.

Lane pretended not to notice.

A moment later, Angelo took his seat across her, and Lane relaxed.

Gretchen, the waitress, was looking at them with interest.
 

“Black coffee for me, please,” Angelo supplied.

“One extra large vanilla milkshake and fries for me, Gretch,” she said quickly, and hoping to forestall any awkward questions, she pretended to frown, saying, “I think someone’s calling you—”

“Oh, let someone else take care of it.” Gretchen grinned. “
You’re
more interesting. I never imagined you’d have a thing for sexy Italians.”
 

Lane gasped, “Gretch!”

The older woman winked at Angelo. “Who might you be?”

She watched Angelo introduce himself, impressing Gretchen and the other women in the diner, who were all openly eavesdropping on them.

“Are you guys going out?” Gretchen asked.

Lane groaned. “Oh my God, Gretch—”

“That is my objective, yes.”

“Oooooh. Now I know why this sweetie likes you.” She rolled her eyes. “This girl has it bad for men with big words.” She sniffed. “I’ve been telling her it’s better to look for men with big cocks—”

“
Greeeeeeeeeetch
.” Lane’s hands flew to cover her face in complete mortification.

 
“But I did tell you that,” the waitress protested.

“I know, but—”

But there was no point talking because Gretchen had turned back to Angelo, saying excitedly, “Tell me the truth. Did she have to lose her clothes to snag you? Be honest!”

“I swear to God, Gretch, if you don’t—”

The waitress laughed. “I’m going, I’m going.”

When the waitress left, Angelo took one look at Lane’s red face and said gently, “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He paused. “But I do wish you had told me you’d be willing to go that far—”

Lane moaned in acute embarrassment and covered her face again. When he laughingly pulled her hands away, she tried to struggle but when it became clear he wasn’t letting go, she said almost pleadingly, “It’s not like what you think, okay? Gretchen just thinks I’m silly for spending my money on books, and when I told her she’s too cynical, thinking sex is the only way to get a guy, we ended up betting that if I ever end up dating—”

“Ah.”

“You believe me, right?”

He released her hands, saying, “Of course.”

She was about to sigh in relief when she saw Angelo’s lips curve in a smirk. “It’s true,” she insisted. “I would never—”

He raised a brow.
Would you honestly never come to my bed if that were the only way?

She turned red, and when he laughed, she knew Angelo had his answer.
 

Gretchen came back then, saving her from having the need to insist on something she was no longer sure of. When the waitress left, she noticed him glancing at her milkshake and she asked, “Is it too weird that I ordered one?”

“Not at all.” Angelo managed to keep his voice bland. “It’s been a long time, but I once a dated a girl who’s…a bit like you.” It was a lie, though. The more time he spent with Lane, the more similarities between them turned up…and he didn’t like it.

Lane was surprised by Angelo’s revelation. “Really?” At his nod, she couldn’t help mumbling, “I bet she’s prettier than me.” She truly believed this, for she could not imagine someone like Angelo Valencia dating anyone imperfect. “Right?” Her voice was glum.

He said truthfully, “No.”
 

She perked up. “Uglier?”

“No.”

“Thinner?”

“No.”

“Curvier?”

“No.”

Rolling her eyes, she asked sarcastically, “Is she like my twin then?”

But Angelo only smiled, murmuring, “You really are a masochist.”

That was when the truth hit her, and she paled, feeling like she had just been sucker-punched.

Asking about one’s exes was uncool on a first date. Every girl was born with this knowledge, and Lane was no exception. And yet…she had done it anyway, had been unable to stop herself from doing so.
 

She had asked because something inside her demanded it, almost as if her heart had craved – anticipated – the twinge that would come.

Angelo watched Lane reach for her milkshake, and as she stirred it aimlessly with her straw, he heard her mumble, “I’m beginning to think you’re right.”
 

And so the moment had come
, he thought.

He could choose to tell her to forget it, and she would stay as she was: innocent and undefiled. But he also knew that this decision would mean turning back on what they really were, and even if they did end up together, it would eventually run its course. People who could not accept the truth about their selves could never be happy, on their own…or with each other.

He had learned this the hard way.

“Angelo?” Lane’s caramel brown eyes pleaded with him for the truth. “Were you lying when you told me I was a m-masochist? Was it just a prank or something?”

On the other hand, he could throw caution to the wind and allow them to do what they had both needed – what they had both
hungered for –
since the very first day they met.

He heard himself say, “No.”

Lane jerked in her seat.

“You
are
a masochist, and I’m a sadist.”
 

She visibly trembled, and her lips parted as if the words had made her thirsty. The sight fed the hunger inside him, and he knew, just by the way she was looking at him, that he didn’t even have to seduce her into submitting to him.

She was already seduced.

His jaw clenched.
 

Not again,
Angelo thought grimly.
 

The last time he allowed his desires to overrule his mind, he had ended up falling for the wrong girl.

And that girl had eventually left him.

“Angelo?”

Lane’s trembling voice pulled him out of the past. “What is it,
tesoro
?”

“Thanks for being patient with me, but I think I’m ready now.”

Her self-sacrificing tone made his lips twitch. “You sound like a soldier about to go to war.”
 

“It sort of feels that way,” Lane confessed almost guiltily. “Just thinking about it…” She took a deep breath.
Keep it together, Lane. You’re just going to talk about it, that’s all. It’s not like you’re making a lifelong commitment.

She heard Angelo say, “You can ask me anything. I promise to answer everything with complete honesty.”

She nodded, mumbling pedantically, “Thank you.” She took another deep breath. “First…”

Angelo raised a brow.

“Is this legal?”

He absolutely hadn’t seen that coming. “Err, yes.’ He had to sternly repress his smile as he answered her.

“Right.” She tried not to show her dismay. She had been hoping it would be illegal, which would then be her way out. Clearing her throat, she lied, “That’s, um, good.”
 

Liar,
Angelo thought, and he had to fight back another smile.
 

“My next question is…” She avoided looking at him as she asked, “Is this…a sin?”

He almost laughed. “Are you worried you’d go to Hell for it?”

She nodded.

“Obviously, I’m not expert on religion but if you want my truthful answer, I’d say…
no.
Sadism and masochism are not sins. Instead of thinking about it that way, you should merely see them as another form of experiencing pleasure.”
 

“I see.”
 

Seeing her anxiously gnaw at her lip, he said softly, “There is nothing for you to worry about,
my
Lane.”

She found herself nodding, her worries fading as her mind zeroed in on those last two words.

My Lane.

He thought of her as his.

She bit her lip and tried not to be gauche with her thoughts, but it was impossible.

My Lane,
he had said.

Gosh.

“I will never force or coerce you to say or do anything that you don’t want to. Nor should you see it as something that would change who you are, because it doesn’t. It’s not something that defines you—” He paused meaningfully. “Just like your clothes do not define who you are.”