Novel & Cerita Lorenzo Berkshire

she said to him in a serious tone before dashing out of the room. Lorenzo sighed helplessly as he got up from the bed to prepare for work.Soon he was done bathing,he put on his clothes and took his suitcase before leaving the room.his eyes searched everywhere but he didn't see any sign of Sarah,he couldn't help but wonder if she had left for work already.he also remembered that her ex worked in the same place as her and the thought of them meeting each other again made him restless and annoyed.he clenched his fists before walking towards the door to leave the mansion but was stopped when he heard her voice. "Lorenzo"Sarah called and he turned towards her,he felt butterflies in his belly as h

The Lorenzos sat, basking in the grandeur of the Rivas estate, yet its splendor was still nothing compared to the Lorenzo empire. Mrs. Lorenzo sat at the right side of the long table, dressed in a light blue silk gown with pearl earrings, her hair pulled into a neat bun. It was simple for such a grand evening. Too simple. Had she worn it because she thought little of them, or because she already considered them family?

"You’re a Cruz. Since when do you care about architectural purity?" "I’m the variety that appreciates the finer things. Not a caveman." He laughed, a rare, genuine sound, and spun me toward the edge of the terrace where the shadows were thickest. "Lorenzo is drowning," he sighed. "He didn't say it, but the DeMarco accounts are hollow. His shipping lanes were seized last month. This villa is the only collateral he has left." "He told me he wants it in the family. Someone who understands the weight of it."

“It’s quite easy for one to fall in love with this place. It was one of the reasons I bought it.” Marissa and I turned as we heard Lorenzo’s voice. He was leaning against the doorpost, a lazy smile playing on his lips. He wore a black shirt rolled at the cuffs with a couple of buttons undone. His hands were in his black pants and his hair was tousled. He often ran his hands through them whenever he was in distress. “You’re lucky, you know? People would kill to have a home like this.” I said, letting out a smile. “I know I am. It took me a year to get this place.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The studio felt smaller now. The air heavier. Lila stood frozen in front of Lorenzo Verdi, trying to process the words she had just heard. The rightful heir to half of Blackwell Industries. Her voice came out almost automatically. “That’s impossible.” Lorenzo didn’t argue. Instead, he walked slowly toward the restoration table and gently placed the portrait beside the larger Ponte Vecchio painting. “You’re not the first person to say that,” he replied calmly.

He smiled sheepishly as I shot him a glance. Lorenzo’s voice brought my attention back to him. “I own two fashion houses here in Italy, actually. I have one here in Rome and the other in Sicily.” “That’s amazing.” “Thanks,” He responded immediately. “May I know your brand-name?” I asked no hesitantly, and he shifted his gaze to Collin before turning to face me with a smile. “Just Lorenzo. That’s our trademark. Every of my designs has my name on it. Would have given you one of our costumes, but too bad I only specialize in male outfits.”

I could sense it in the way his jaw clenched and his breathing shifted, deeper and more controlled, as if he fought to keep his reaction hidden. Lorenzo rose slowly from the cushions, his tall frame unfolding with deliberate grace. He crossed the small space between us and stood directly in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. The scent of him — clean soap mixed with a faint trace of whiskey and something darker, more masculine — wrapped around me and made my stomach flutter. "How did you know about Mrs. Maria?" he asked, his voice low and rough, laced with careful curiosity. "Did you remember her?"