Trapped in a mafia’s obsession
she asked, wiping her cheeks.
“What?” Lorenzo blinked, confused.
“I’m crying, and you are hard?”
He looked away for a second, then he whispered, “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Of course you don’t,” she snapped.
Lorenzo pulled her face closer again, and this time, Fiona didn’t hesitate. She kissed him, deeply and deliberately, her fingers tightening around the back of his neck as if she needed to anchor herself to the moment. Then, without warning, she broke the kiss and stood up.
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