Tom And Lorenzo Novels & Stories

“You brought dinner cutlery to a gunfight, little lion.” “It's about the principle,” I snapped, folding my arms tightly across my oversized gray sweater. I had stripped out of that suffocating green silk dress the second the bedroom door locked behind us, washing off the heavy makeup until my face was clean and my brown hair was tied back into a practical braid. “This is a contract marriage. Section four said I maintain public appearances. It didn't say I share a blanket with a mafia Don who threatens old men at dinner tables.” Lorenzo tossed his unbuttoned shirt onto a chair, stepping toward the bed in just his black trousers. The sheer size of him in the dim light was terrifying—six feet t

Jason said making me laugh while he struggled to pull me off the couch. "Nah, you got this bro." Lorenzo said making Jason groan then try to pull me off again. "You're not helping because you know with your guys help she won't let go." Jason said. "No, you're just doing it wrong." I heard Lorenzo say then footsteps heading towards us. "Lorenzo Emiliano Romano! If you tickle me I swear to god I will make sure you regret it." I said but that didn't stop him because he still tickled me.

“You can’t just drop that she’s alive and then pull back like—” “Well, well, well.” The familiar voice sliced through the chaos, smooth and venomous all at once. My blood turned to ice as I turned my head. Lorenzo strolled into Rosa’s like he owned the fucking place, dark suit immaculate, hair slicked back, sunglasses dangling casually from one hand. His lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “If it isn’t the long-lost brother,” Lorenzo drawled, his gaze settling on Liam like a predator sizing up prey. “Or should I say… Liam Forge?”

I almost crack a smile at that thought. Lorenzo is sitting. He's barely moved and kept his eyes fixed on Tommy the entire time. He's analysing everything, he can't just sit, no he has to analyse everything. To his right, by the drinks machine, is Matteo. His tongue glides across his lip as he peers at his phone, no doubt talking to Is, and knowing her, she will be taunting the fuck out of him. My eyes go to Wayne. He's shifting nervously, but he's new, so today is a test of his strength and well…to see if he can handle shit.

**** The VIP bar was dark, all leather and low lighting and the kind of music that pulsed in your chest. Lorenzo sat in the corner booth, his arm thrown over his eyes, a glass of something expensive sweating on the table in front of him. He'd lost count of how many he'd had. Three? Five? Seven? It didn't matter. None of them were working. His friends were around him…Fernandez, the one who owned half the vineyards in Tuscany, and Stefano, who'd inherited his father's shipping empire and spent most of his time trying to lose it.

I looked down and realized they’d changed me into a new nightgown, pastel-colored, reaching my thighs, buttoned almost up to my neck. Lorenzo was in loose sweatpants, and for the first time I saw his torso completely bare. Thin scars from old wounds ran through tribal tattoos that wrapped his left pectoral and flowed down his arm. On his other arm, a beautiful sleeve showed runes and wolves tangled over his biceps. He looked like a feast laid out in front of me, made for me... and I couldn’t eat. “Then if everything’s clear, I’ll go back to my place,” I said, trying to get up again, even with the dizziness and how weak I still felt.

Dino felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. Did his mother have another son before Alejandro? Before everything? Why had she never spoken of him? Sanchez’s Cruelty Runs Deep The phone rang again. This time, Tomás had something. “We traced the call,” Tomás said. “It came from a prison.” Dino’s grip tightened. “Who?” Tomás hesitated. “A man named Lorenzo.” Dino frowned. “Never heard of him.” Tomás cleared his throat. “That’s because he’s been locked up for twenty years. And his last name… is Moretti.”

Ricci drove us along winding roads with the windows down, one hand on the wheel, the other tangled with mine. He didn’t act like a mafia boss here. He was just Lorenzo. A man with laughter in his eyes and sun on his skin. A man who stole tomatoes from open-air markets just to make me laugh. Who pressed lazy kisses to my neck while we danced barefoot in the kitchen. A man who made breakfast for me in the mornings and made me feel loved in the nights.

I almost dropped to my knees, but I didn't let go. I slammed him into the floor again. Kane pinned his legs, and I ripped the mask off his face. I froze. Kane froze beside me. “Lorenzo?” Kane spat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Lorenzo was one of Rafa’s cooks but also doubled as a courier at night. Quiet, forgettable, and able to slip away unnoticed, perfect rat material. He glared up at me with burning hatred. “You should’ve stayed out of this,” he spat.

"Adriano had the hospital records sourced. There is no Leo Rossi. He never existed!" I froze. "That's impossible, we..." "You what?" Lorenzo sneered. "You can buy a body with a little money. A good actor can play dead. You can't even get your forgeries right." Chloe's face flushed red. "Lorenzo, you really think—" "What do I think?" He walked towards Chloe, his eyes filled with a humiliating contempt. "I think my wife has more sense than to get tangled in Carina's hysterics." "I'm not!"