Chapter Nine

Without warning, Lorenzo pulled her into him, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was as rough as it was consuming. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer as if daring the world—daring Vincent—to do something about it.

For a moment, the world melted away, leaving only the raw intensity of the kiss, the dangerous heat between them. Elena’s pulse raced, the taste of him. She could taste the salt of the sea on his skin, the faint scent of cologne mingling with something darker, more primal.

The cool breeze swept over her bare shoulders, a sharp contrast to the heat building between them. For a moment, all she could feel was the press of his body against hers, the rhythm of their breaths as they collided in a moment that teetered between passion and destruction.

But just as quickly, she shoved him back, breathless and furious. "What the hell was that?" she hissed, her eyes shooting lasers at him.

Lorenzo’s smirk was infuriatingly calm. “Just making a statement.”

“A statement?” Elena’s eyes narrowing as she took a step back. The heat of the kiss still lingered on her lips.

“To Vincent,” Lorenzo clarified, his tone almost casual, but his gaze was anything but. “He parades you around like a trophy, but you resent it, don’t you? You’re more of a free spirit and a rebel, not someone to be owned.”

Elena clenched her fists. “I don’t care what twisted game it is you’re playing with him, but the next time you try this, it won’t end on a pleasant note. Not for you.”

Lorenzo stepped closer again, his eyes locked onto hers. She took an involuntary step backward, subconsciously raising her hands in as she assumed a boxing stance.

“That kiss? It wasn’t for him. It was for me.” I wanted to do that from the moment I saw you.

“You are one hell of an egomaniac, Mr. Lorenzo Salvatore.” She spat the words at him.

“And Vincent is a narcissist, yet you let him get away with things.” Lorenzo’s voice lowered, his eyes never leaving hers. “You shouldn’t let him do that.”

The sound of approaching footsteps made them both turn. Vincent strode toward them, his expression unreadable. He stopped just short of them, looking first at Lorenzo and then Elena.

“There you are Chica,” There was an edge to his voice and a steely look in his eyes. “I was wondering where you’d wandered off to.” Turning toward Lorenzo, he continued to address her. “Having fun?”

Elena forced a tight smile, her heart still pounding from the heated exchange. “Just enjoying the view.”

Vincent’s eyes darkened as he glanced between the two of them.

Lorenzo smirked, clearly reveling in the discomfort he was causing. “It’s quite the view, indeed.”

Vincent, ever the master of appearances, turned to her, his smile forced but charming to those unaware of the tension. “We should get back to the party. People are asking about you.”

His hand settled possessively on her lower back, guiding her toward the gathering. As they walked away, Elena couldn’t resist a final glance over her shoulder. Lorenzo threw her a mock salute.

A sharp crack echoed through the air, followed by the distant wail of sirens. Elena jerked back, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Lorenzo’s gaze snapped to the horizon, his expression shifting from desire to icy calculation in the blink of an eye.

“What the hell—”

The night around them fell into chaos.

“Police!” A voice boomed from below, followed by the thunder of boots against the deck. Panic erupted as men in tactical gear swarmed the yacht, guns drawn, barking orders.

Chaos erupted, but Lorenzo stood unmoved, eyes fixed on her, his calm a sharp contrast to the frenzy around them.

“Go,” he said softly.

“What?” She stared at him, confused. “Lorenzo, we have to—”

“Go, Elena.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers in a fleeting touch. “They’re not here for you. Get off this yacht. Now.”

Elena froze, her eyes darting between Lorenzo and the approaching agents. Her hand clenched at her side, nails biting into her palm, while her heart hammered in her chest. Just then, the lead agent stepped forward.

“Mr. Lorenzo…” the lead agent barked, his eyes searching the faces of the guests. “Lorenzo…”

Elena didn’t hear the rest. Her body moved on autopilot.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. She should leave. Should let them take him. It would be the smart move, the safe move. If he was taken, she could easily slip into his estate and pick the safe. The mission would be over before anyone even knew what her true intentions were.

“Elena, what are you doing?” Lorenzo growled as she gripped him, ignoring the shouts around them.

“Saving your ass,” she muttered. “Now move!”

“Jump!” she shouted, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the railing.

“What—”

“Jump!”

He felt her palm on the small of is back and then they were airborne, the cold night air rushing past them. For a moment, everything was silent—just the weightlessness of freefall.

The icy water stabbed her skin, cold enough to shock the breath from her lungs as they hit the water.

Elena kicked hard, breaking the surface with a gasp. Lorenzo surfaced beside her, he gave her a wild and disbelieving look.

“You’re insane,” he breathed, staring at her.

“Maybe,” she shot back, treading water. “But we’re not getting caught tonight. Not by them.”

Lorenzo’s face softened, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers under the water.

“Why?” he asked softly.

The beam of a spotlight swept over them, voices shouting from the deck above.

“Later,” she whispered, her grip tightening on his hand. “Right now, we swim.”

They swam to shore in silence, Lorenzo steadied himself, shaking the water from his dark hair. “You’re full of surprises, Ms. Romano.”

She glanced back at him, and continued to squeeze the water out of her hair. “You don’t look thankful.”

His gaze lingered, sharp and calculating. “Thankful, sure,” he murmured, stepping closer.

Elena’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening. The subtle shift in his posture wasn’t lost on her. She could see it in the way his eyes moved. “But?” she kept her tone light.

Lorenzo let out a low chuckle, his lips curling into a half-smile. “I don’t think you do anything without a reason, Ms. Romano.”

She didn’t miss the fact that he had gone back to addressing her as Ms. Romano. She turned away, ready to slip back into the night.

“Priscilla mentioned a friend she made the other night... you know. At my house… the library.”

Her heart dropped, but she didn't falter. “Priscilla?”

“I believe you know her, seeing as she described you down to what you were wearing.

“Oh, the child. Yeah…” she glanced at him with practiced nonchalance. “I got lost on my way to the powder room.”

“Funny,” Lorenzo replied, his voice soft but cutting. “The library is on the other side of the estate. No one just ‘passes through’ there.”

Elena turned, irritation sparking in her veins. “Maybe I made a wrong turn,” she said, waving it off. “I didn’t exactly have a tour guide at the time.”

She made to step past him, but Lorenzo lunged, his hand grabbing her wrist. The sudden contact was instinctual, primal. The knife was out before she had time to think, her hand a blur as the blade slid into his side.

Lorenzo gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. They both watched blood seep through the fabric of his shirt, staining his hand as he clutched at the wound.

Lorenzo's breath stuttered as blood stained his fingers. He fixed her with a furious stare as realization hit him. Elena saw the anger in his eyes and wondered if it stemmed from his perception of her betrayal or the realization of his own carelessness.

The crackle of a radio sounded nearby, the garbled chatter of agents barely audible over the wind.

His chest heaved with shallow breaths as the words filled the night. ‘… dead body on deck’ the voice rang out like a twisted confirmation of everything unraveling.”

Both of them stilled. Elena’s lips twitched into a dark smile as she leaned in, her voice soft. “Welcome to the shadows, Lorenzo.”

***

Elena moved quickly, her mind racing as she approached the edge of the yacht. She scanned the waters below, spotting the search lights growing closer. With a quick inhale, she dove into the waves, letting the cold water wrap around her as she resurfaced, gasping and thrashing like a panicked survivor.

“Help!” she screamed, her voice hoarse with desperation. “I fell overboard!”

The beam of a spotlight swept over her, and shouts of alarm followed. Within seconds, she felt hands grab her, pulling her onto a small rescue boat. She let herself go limp, tears mixing with seawater as she gasped for breath.

Someone shouted. “We’ve got her.”

As the rescue team focused on her, no one noticed the dark vehicle slipping through the night without headlights. It moved like a shadow itself, gliding silently to the rendezvous point.

A door opened, and the lone passenger slid in. The vehicle vanished into the night as quickly as it had appeared.

From a vantage point above, the figure watched it all, unseen and undetected. They whispered into a hidden earpiece, their voice low and approving.

“I’m not sure yet, but she might be a problem.”