Lorenzo Beretta (Unseen Underground 1)

I closed my bedroom door behind me, my head down as I searched through my purse, making sure I had everything I needed to attend church. Church on Sundays was a sacred tradition to all of the Italian families I knew. I’d been attending every week for my entire life, not missing a single service. And today was no different.

The Beretta family went too, only they sat at the front of the church, their own pew kept open just for them. I hadn’t grown up that way. Us Riccis usually sat at the back, merging with the other families that lived in the city. We didn’t like to be seen, but it was different now—everything was different.

My heels sunk into the carpet as I made my way to the stairs, glancing up at the last second when I’d made sure everything was in my purse. I wasn’t really looking anywhere in particular, so it wasn’t until I made it halfway down the stairs that I spotted Lorenzo standing in the main foyer on his own, his gray suit fitting him like a glove.

He looked my way, his eyes narrowing for the barest of seconds, and I wondered if he didn’t like what I was wearing. The lilac dress hit just below my knees, hugging my hips and flaring the tiniest bit over my thighs. It was the embroidered bodice of the dress that had me falling in love with it, though. I didn’t care that I’d found it in a thrift shop because it was perfect to wear to church.

“Lorenzo,” I greeted as I got to the bottom of the stairs, feeling a little wobbly on my three-inch heels. “I didn’t realize you were coming today.” It was a reasonable sentence because he hadn’t attended church with us once since we’d been married. In fact, I’d barely seen him other than at breakfast and dinner. Part of me wondered if he was avoiding me, but his ma had told me he was just busy with work. I understood that, but it meant he was just as much a stranger to me now as he was the day I’d walked down the aisle.

“It’s Sunday,” he said simply as if that should have answered me. “Everyone else has left already.”

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks heat as he kept his broody stare focused on me. It made me feel uneasy, but also lit a fire within me—a fire I had no idea was even there. “So, it’s just me and you, then?” I asked, feeling my voice crack. He’d waited for me, and although I didn’t want to overthink it, he could have easily left with the rest of the family.

“Service starts in ten,” he told me, spinning around and walking toward the main doors. I blinked, not sure how to react, but followed him anyway.

An SUV waited outside, Mateo—one of the soldiers who was always in the house—stood beside the open back door. He greeted Lorenzo with a nod and smiled at me as I slipped in beside Lorenzo. My stomach rolled as we drove down the driveway and away from the house, the air in the SUV feeling like it was running out the longer we were in the enclosed space.

I hadn’t been in a car with Lorenzo since we got married, and that was almost three weeks ago. How had I been married to him for this long yet not even had a real conversation with him? My mind immediately thought back to the last time I’d tried to get to know him—when I’d cooked. He’d shut me down quickly and left me reeling, wondering how to be and act around him. But nothing worth having came easy, right? So, maybe now was the perfect time to ask him something—anything.

I opened my mouth, keeping my focus on the back of the driver’s seat, and asked, “How’s your week been?” I felt him still next to me, then oh so slowly I turned to face him.

“Busy,” he responded, his gaze focused on me again. “Yours?”

I shrugged. “I’ve been doing a lot of assignments.” I bit down on my bottom lip, not sure whether I should keep talking or not. But I reasoned that if he didn’t want to listen, he’d probably tell me to shut up anyway, so I continued, “I’m nearly caught up now, though. My one professor seems to hand them out nearly every week. I swear he does it just to torture us.”

Lorenzo’s lips curved at the corner, and I had a feeling he was thinking about a different kind of torture than what I was talking about. “I could make the professor stop handing out so many assignments,” he said, raising his brows. “Or you could quit college altogether.”

“No,” I gasped. “No to both.” I shook my head. “I was only venting to you. I wasn’t asking you to resolve a problem.”

Lorenzo was silent for several seconds, his gaze drifting away from me as we pulled into the street the church was on. “I know you weren’t.” He sighed as we stopped in front of the church. “You never ask for anything.” He said it so low I was sure he didn’t mean for me to hear, but I did. I heard him loud and clear, and I wondered what he meant by it. But before I got the chance to ask, he was pushing out of the SUV and walking around to my door. He opened it, offering his hand, and I took it without hesitation.

His large palm squeezed mine, and he didn’t let go as we walked toward the church steps. People were milling about, their attention zooming in on us as we entered the church, and I understood then. He was putting on a show, making out like we were a normal couple.

I spotted Ma and Dad in our usual pew at the back and lifted my hand in a wave. Vida jumped up and down, mouthing something to me, but Noemi pulled her back down to sit before I could make out what she was saying.

Lorenzo greeted several people on the way to the front pew, and when we got there, two spaces were left open for us. “Ladies first,” Lorenzo said, his tone different now. It was sweeter, a voice I’d never heard him use. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit. I’d take broody asshole Lorenzo over this version any day of the week. At least then I knew what I was getting—kind of.

“Hi,” I whispered to Sofia as I slipped in next to her. She frowned at the sight of Lorenzo, probably thinking the same thing I was: Why had he come today?

Lorenzo settled in next to me, his face turned toward the front, and as soon as the doors at the back closed, the priest started talking. I wasn’t sure what he was saying because I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts and the fact that Lorenzo was sitting only inches away from me.

I was hyperaware of each of his movements, so when his arm reached out, and his hand landed on my knee, I nearly jumped a foot in the air. I gaped at his long fingers as they covered my entire knee and part of my thigh. His fingertips grazed my bare skin, and I shivered. Why did he have to be such an asshole but also make my body go haywire? It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“Relax,” Lorenzo whispered, low enough for only me to hear, but I didn’t turn to face him. I acted like the only thing I was doing was listening to the priest, but in reality, my mind was racing at a mile a minute.

His hand squeezed, a move no one around us could see, and it hit me like a freight train. Outside he’d held my hand for show, but here in the front pew, no one else could see. What did that mean? What was he trying to say? What was he trying to achieve? I had no idea. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, not when I felt this confused.

I squirmed as his hand moved a little higher, and I stared at it, seeing his wedding band on his finger. It looked so sexy on his tan hand, and I wondered if he thought the same about my wedding band. Did he like the way it looked? Or had he not even noticed?

I was in a world of my own, trying to make sense of everything, so when people started standing, signaling the end of service, I blinked, trying to break free from my own thoughts. Lorenzo’s hand slid from my knee and to my hand as he helped me up.

He didn’t let go as people drifted toward us. Normally at the end of service, I made a beeline for my family, but I couldn’t escape the crowd of people surrounding us. And when I tried to let go of Lorenzo’s hand, he held on tighter. “I’m sorry,” he said to the man standing in front of us—a man I’d never seen in church before. “It was nice seeing you, but we need to go and see my wife’s family.” He tilted his head toward the back of the church, and my shoulders dropped in relief.

Lorenzo pushed us through the crowd, keeping his lips in a straight line as he did. He was polite but to the point, getting away from them as they asked him all kinds of things. Help with businesses, investments, and wanting to talk to the boss of the Beretta family. He was treated like royalty.

“Lorenzo,” I whisper-shouted as he pulled me down the aisle. “Not so fast.” I chuckled, but it was out of nerves. “These heels aren’t easy to walk in.”

He paused and turned back to me, his gaze trailing over my hips, down my legs, and to my heels. “They look good on you.”