The service that Lorenzo provided to his guests was flawless and complete on every front.
However, I understood that he had ordered Marielle, the maid assigned to me, to take care of me, going beyond what she was supposed to do.
The woman, a sweet and chubby forty-year-old with reddish hair, had immediately helped me remove my wet clothes and prepared me a hot cup of tea with biscuits.
Initially she had given me an employee uniform, trousers and a black waistcoat with a white shirt, to wear as she was washing and drying my clothes, but in the evening she had already brought me new clothes that suited me perfectly.
Shyly, I wore high-waisted pinstriped canvas trousers and a pink blouse with short puffed sleeves.
However, my mood did not change and, when Marielle offered to bring me dinner, I categorically refused, asking to be alone until the following day.
Despite the cozy room thanks to the soft beige colors and the white and dove-gray striped walls, I couldn't relax.
Even the scented bed with the Egyptian cotton sheets hadn't made me sleepy.
I spent all my time on one of the two armchairs around the table, thinking.
I couldn't come to terms with what my father had told me, Brian's arrogant and over-bearing behavior, as well as the pregnancy of my sister who now kept me in the dark about everything ...
Each memory was a stab at the heart.
I felt deeply hurt, unable to react if not with tears.
I had been suffering from my family's attitude for years, but what had happened that day was the straw that broke the camel's back
I felt broken, destroyed, humiliated ...
For years I had endured my family in the hope of receiving their affection, of being accepted despite my ideas.
I just wanted to feel loved. I was not asking for anything else.
I cried for a long time and, when night fell, I realized that the time had come to give up, to accept that my family would never give me what I wanted. I also knew that I would no longer endure their malice and indifference.
At that point, all I had to do was run away.
The time had come to take my life in hand.
But how?
How could I get by without money and ... without an identity?
I thought about my studies in ancient history and they seemed to me devoid of value and interest.
I thought about my professional projects without structure or consistency.
No, I had to start over.
I stayed up most of the night looking for a solution, but I didn't find any.
In the end, at the first light of dawn, I dozed off slightly on the armchair, until I heard a knock on the door.
I got up slowly with a sore back and went to open.
I was convinced it was Marielle, with whom I had had a discussion the previous evening because of my forced fast after refusing to touch food even at dinner.
Instead, I found myself facing Lorenzo.
He always dressed in black, matching his darkened mood as soon as he looked at me.
"Good morning," he exclaimed sternly, gently pushing me aside to enter the room.
With large strides he moved to the table.
He sat down on an armchair and made himself comfortable.
"We have to talk," he said, motioning me to sit down in front of him.
I obeyed intimidated by his brisk and nervous gestures.
"How are you?" He asked after giving me a long, slow look that took my breath away.
"Well," I replied slightly, finding it difficult to sleep.
"Are you happy with the clothes I brought you?"
"Yes thanks."
"Is the bed comfortable?"
"Yup."
"So why is it still made?" He pointed out to me with his jaw contracted in annoyance.
"I didn't sleep tonight."
"And the food? Isn't that to your liking? "
"I'm not hungry. I just want to be alone. "
"Are you in trouble?" Lorenzo finally asked me after a long silence. I could hear in his voice; he was impatient to hear my answer.
I had run away from my father after refusing to marry Brian.
Yes, I would have been in trouble if I had gone home.
But now I was there at an Orlando's house.
Yes, I would have been in trouble if he found out who I was.
I really needed to leave Rockart City as soon as possible.
"Nothing that can't be resolved," I just answered.
"Have you found a solution yet?"
"I'm working on it."
"How?"
"Do you know anyone who can get me a fake ID?", I have been thinking about running away.
"No." Lorenzo's glacial glance made me realize that expressing my intentions was the wrong answer.
"I was joking," I tried to overcome that difficult situation.
"Do you want to run away from your problems?"
"What If I was?"
"It would cost a lot of money."
"How much?"
"At least fifty times what you gave me yesterday."
I thought about my credit card. Too bad I couldn't use it!
"I'll look for a job."
"Who would hire a person without an ID?"
"I will figure it out."
"Like stealing?"
I made a face at the thought and what I had done to my sister.
Luckily, someone knocked on the door, putting an end to that difficult conversation.
It was Marielle with a cart loaded with food and drink.
"I didn't ask for anything," I stopped her.
"It was me. I haven't finished talking to you yet and I want you to eat, " Lorenzo intervened.
In an instant Lorenzo had a sugarless black coffee, while Marielle served me, placing a cup of tea with a slice of lemon in front of me, next to a croissant.
Everything was perfect and looked delicious, but my stomach was still in a knot.
"Eat," Lorenzo ordered me as soon as the waitress left us alone.
That authoritarian tone reminded me of my father, hindering me even more.
"I'm not hungry," I whispered in apprehension when I saw him scratch his hint of beard on his chin. By now I understood that this gesture reflected his attitude. He was at the end of his rope.
"Shall I repeat myself?"
"Are you going to pull the gun out again to frighten me if I don't obey?" I provoked him determined to stand up to him. I could no longer feel submissive to an alpha male.
"No, but I can throw you out of my club at any time," he countered, determined to win the game I had started.
Too scared of the idea of going home or going who knows where, I took the cup of tea in my hands and took a little sip.
It was green tea with a lemon aroma.
It was exquisite. Exactly the way I liked it.
"Do you like it?"
"Yes," I murmured happily, picking up the whole brioche.
The scent was inviting and suddenly I was hungry.
I took a bite.
The puff pastry was fresh and soft.
I tasted the jam inside.
I was stunned when I realized it was citrus jam with pieces of candied ginger.
"If I'm not mistaken, you told me that this is the kind of breakfast you like," Lorenzo whispered to me in a much softer and gentler tone than before.
I just nodded. By now my mind returned to all the times I had prepared that breakfast by myself because nobody wanted to prepare it the way I liked it.
I thought about how many times I had been put down and disrespected, so much so that I ended up a recluse in the annex.
And now a stranger had tried to get me the breakfast I had always wanted.
"Mia, are you, all right?" Lorenzo worried when he saw me cry.
"Yes, sorry," I hastened to say, drying my eyes. "It has been a long time since anyone thought about me and prepared me something the way I like it. It seems silly but sometimes a cup of tea and a croissant are enough to make you feel welcomed and loved ", I confessed moved, getting up to take a tissue to wipe my face.
"What happened to you, Mia?" Lorenzo's voice came up behind me.
I tried to say something, but it was as if the words got stuck in my throat.
I felt his hands slide over my arms and push me to turn towards him.
His face was a few inches from mine, and I felt my heartbeat faster every time my eyes got lost in hers.
"Did someone hurt you?" He asked gently, placing a hand on my face to pull the bangs away from his eyes, while with the other he pulled me towards him in a warm embrace.
Feeling his hand on my face was an indescribable emotion. It was as if a thousand crazy butterflies fluttered all over my body making me vibrate deeply.
I shook my head.
"Not even that guy who molested you the other time?"
"No, I haven't seen him again."
"Another man by chance?"
"There's nobody else," I replied, chasing away the image of my father and Brian.
"So, what's wrong? You can tell me. "
"I'm fine," I whispered, unable to tell him the truth and moving away from him. I could no longer hold his gaze and his touch.
"Will you tell me one day what happened to you?"
"I can't," I murmured heartily feeling tears streaming down my face again.
"I thought you wanted my help."
"It's not like that," I hastened to say, frightened by the idea that he might get involved in my family mess. I would have done anything not to bring Lorenzo closer to the Rinaldi.
"You will change your mind."
"It won't happen," I said, as he shot back a dirty look.
"Sooner or later you will have to make a choice."
"I know."
"Then remember that every decision you make will involve sacrifices and rejections," he said before leaving, as I stood there unable to speak.