Page 15 of Lorenzo

“About time,” I grinned, throwing my cloth napkin on the plate before me as I stood. “Well family of mine. It’s been a pleasure as always.”

I had just taken three steps when Gio cleared his throat.

I slowly turned as he added, “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

Looking about the room, having no clue who he was talking about. When I stayed silent, my big brother leaned back in his chair then looked over at the farm girl. That’s when realization hit and I slowly shook my head.

He had to be joking.

He wasn’t serious.

No fucking way.

“Donatella, you will be staying with Lorenzo during your stay in Chicago. He will ensure that you have everything you need, while the family helps to clear up this situation.”

The young farm girl nodded then stood. “I will get my things.”

I said nothing as she quickly left the room. When she was out of earshot, I unloaded. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am very serious, brother. I said she was your responsibility while she was here and since you will do me no good being here, I am allowing you to return to your apartment and life.”

“How can I return to my life if she’s with me!”

“You will figure it out,” Gio smiled reaching for his wine glass. “Oh and Lorenzo. Nico and Eduardo will be going with you, with orders to contain you by any means…if necessary. Now, don’t keep your guest waiting.”

And just like that, he dismissed me.

What. The. Fuck!

I said nothing as the SUV sped down the streets of the city I loved. Chicago had everything anyone could want. Nightlife, sports, art, history and some of the best restaurants in the world. In my opinion, Chicago was the mecca of refinement and polish, not like those other cities like New York or L.A. and I was part of my city’s inner circle. I had been from my first breath. I worked hard to cultivate my social standing and reaped the benefits.

Yet as I sat next to the Okie from Muskogee, I had no clue what to do with her. She knew nothing about social etiquette, let alone how to dress. She was a simple country bumpkin and if I didn’t make sure her time in Chicago was good, my family, mainly Giovanni would have my ass. It was something our mother instilled in us from birth. When we were in charge of a guest the family’s reputation was put to the test. It was a test that none of us ever wanted to fail because the consequences were severe.

Nope, I just had to figure out what it was she liked and make sure she got it. It couldn’t be that hard. She was from Georgia for crying out loud. Quickly doing aGooglesearch on my phone, I looked up everything I could on the state, what recreation activities they liked and what the people of Georgia were into.

It shouldn’t take long and hopefully it was a short list.

By the time the SUV parked in the underground garage of my building, I sat shocked as I skimmed through hundreds of pages about the great state of Georgia and wondered what in the hell was corn-hole?

I entered my penthouse more confused than ever. Yet, seeing the oriental rug without a blemish on it made me smile. However, when I turned, I saw Donatella standing in the doorway, not moving.

“Problem?”

“I can’t,” she whispered, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

“Can’t what?”

“She died here.”

“I assure you, the cleaning crew cleaned everything.”

“It’s not that,” she whispered looking at me and that’s when I knew what she meant.

Shit.

Strike one.

I didn’t think what it would be like for her to be here, in the very apartment her sister died. I knew that some people feared death, that it was almost like an omen, some lousy juju or something. I read a story one time that a whole family moved from their home because a beloved family member died in their house.


Tags: Rebecca Joyce Crime