Page 32 of Lost Prince

I try to smile, to play along. “How could I forget?”

Matteo finally steps in, chuckling. "Ladies, ladies. Give the man some breathing room.” He pushes me forward toward the back of the club.

As we weave through the throng of women, he says, “I'm gonna have to beat them off with a stick to get any work done."

I keep moving, but I’m keenly aware of the women watching with something that looks like desire in their eyes. It’s clear I’vebeen here before, been with them before. Was it all at once? One at a time?

Turning to Matteo, I ask in a low voice, "Were they always like this about me?"

Matteo bursts out laughing, slapping me on the back. "Are you kidding me? I'm amazed your ego could allow you to forget that tidbit. The girls always loved you. It was fucking annoying."

His words make me shift uncomfortably. I'm not sure how I feel about this revelation. I mean, yeah, it does the ego good to know women find me attractive and clearly, I took good care of them sexually, but still. These ladies know things about me, intimate details, and I know nothing.

"You and I were regulars here. I still come around sometimes, but I don’t get quite the reception you do. When you walked in, it was like throwing chum to sharks. The girls would go wild for you. I’m not too proud to admit I’ve always wondered what your magic touch was. I mean, I’m not bad looking. My dick isn’t chopped meat. So, what is it about you?”

I raise an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe. "You're exaggerating."

Matteo shakes his head. "Nope. Some of the girls from here would even show up when they weren’t working, hoping to catch your eye. You were quite the ladies' man, Lazaro."

As I process this information, I feel all too common the disconnect between the man they're describing and who I am now. The idea of being such a player doesn't sit well with me, especially now that I have Diana.

I shake my head, unable to reconcile the past Lazaro with who I am now. "I don't remember any of that. It doesn't feel like me at all."

Matteo claps me on the shoulder. "Memory or not, you're still you. Some things don't change."

But have they? Since waking up without my memories, I haven't felt any desire to be with multiple women. Sure, I’ve had a few sexual encounters in the last three years, but not a gaggle of women. In fact, lately, my thoughts have been consumed by one woman, Diana. Just thinking about her sends a rush of heat through my body.

I can't deny the dirty thoughts I've had about her. The things I want to do to her, the ways I want to make her moan and writhe beneath me. It's intense, almost overwhelming at times. But it's all focused on her. Not just any woman will do to fulfill those fantasies.

“So, you see, you don’t have to poach the help at home to satisfy those manly needs of yours,” Matteo finishes.

I look around at the beautiful women surrounding us, trying to conjure up even a hint of the desire Matteo claims I used to feel. But there's nothing. They're attractive, sure, but they don't stir anything in me the way Diana does. In fact, the idea of being with anyone else feels wrong somehow.

I feel a surge of protectiveness of Diana at Matteo’s comment. "It's not like that. She's… different."

Matteo studies me for a moment, then nods slowly. “It’s none of my business. Besides, once your memory is back, you’ll probably go back to your old self.”

Unease burns like acid in my stomach at Matteo’s words. What if my feelings for Diana are just a result of my amnesia? If I suddenly regain my memories, will I revert to that violent, womanizing version of myself?

I try to imagine a scenario where I wake up one day, memories intact, and suddenly lose interest in Diana. It seems impossible. The connection I feel with her, the way she grounds me and makes me feel whole. Surely, that can't just disappear?

But it can. I’m living proof that strong connections can vanish. It happened with my family. Oh, sure, I have a sense ofconnection with my family, especially my twin, Lana. But until she walked into the garage to find me, I didn’t remember my family. What if the person I've become since losing my memories isn't the real me at all? And that if my memories return, the man I have become disappears?

The thought of hurting Diana, of leading her on only to change my mind if my memories return, is unbearable. She deserves better than that. She deserves someone who can promise her consistency, who knows exactly who they are and what they want. I’m forced to consider distancing myself from her again, at least until I figure things out. It would be the responsible thing to do. To protect her from potential heartbreak down the line.

But even as I consider it, I know I won’t. The thought of not seeing her makes my chest tighten. Maybe I’m not a homicidal maniac anymore, but I’m still a selfish asshole, apparently.

“Come on, Paulie is waiting,” Matteo says, heading down a long hall.

I follow Matteo into a dimly lit room with plush leather sofas and a well-stocked bar. It's clearly designed for private meetings and discreet conversations.

As I settle into the comfortable seats at the table, Matteo goes to the bar. “Want a drink?”

“Nah.”

“Suit yourself.” He helps himself to scotch and then joins me.

"So, what exactly are we here for?" I ask, wanting to focus on something other than the Lothario I used to be.