Page 42 of Lost Prince
She’s talking about the sex, which only makes me feel dirtier. More disgraced.
“You're a distraction at best, a gold-digger at worst. My brother needs to focus on recovering his memories, not dallying with the kitchen help."
The dismissive way she refers to me as "kitchen help" stings, but I stand my ground. "I would never use him or try to manipulate him. That's not who I am."
"Who you are doesn’t matter. I've known him his entire life. You can't possibly understand what he needs right now. What he doesn’t need is someone distracting him from finding himself."
Her words hit me hard. Doubt creeps in, despite my best efforts to push it away. What if she's right? What if I’m a distraction to him? A distraction that keeps him from reconnecting with his family, from figuring out who he is? From regaining his memories.
But then I remember the concern in his voice telling me he wasn’t sure he wanted his memories back, wasn’t sure he wanted to be the man he’d been before.
Lana’s words sting, but I refuse to let her intimidation tactics work. "Ms. D'Amato, I understand your concern, but I’ve been a friend to him as he has to me. He’s been kind to me, helping me with my car.”
I see a flicker of surprise cross her face, but she quickly masks it.
"I know you want the old Lazaro back, but he’s not that man anymore. Don't you think he deserves to be accepted for who he is right now, rather than constantly pushed to be his past self?"
As the words leave my mouth, Lana's expression hardens. Her eyes narrow dangerously, and I realize I may have overstepped.
"You presume to tell me how to treat my own brother?" Lana's voice is low and threatening. "You think you know him better than his own family? You think because he fixes your car and fucks you that can talk to me like that?”
I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of the precarious position I'm in. Lana isn't just Lazaro's sister. She's also part of the family that owns this house, that signs my paychecks. The look on her face tells me I've crossed a line, and there might be consequences for my boldness.
A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead as I consider the implications. In my passion to defend Lazaro, I may have just talked myself out of a job. Worse, the look in Lana's eyes tells me this could go beyond mere unemployment. The D’Amatos are a powerful Mafia family. She could make me disappear and no one would notice or care.
I’d notice.
Lazaro’s words come back to me, and I want to believe that his feelings for me could save me. But I also know that this thing between us isn’t anything more than two lost souls connecting for a brief moment in time.
My mouth goes dry as I wait for Lana's response. The silence stretches between us, each second feeling like an eternity. I want to say something, to apologize, to backtrack, but my voice has abandoned me.
Lana's eyes bore into mine, cold and calculating. Is she planning to fire me or kill me?
16
LAZARO
Ipace in my room, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The argument with Lana replays in my head. I hate fighting with her, but neither can I let her treat me like a child or try to control me. To mold me into someone I don’t want to be anymore.
My stomach growls, reminding me it's time for breakfast. But the thought of facing Lana again, of enduring more tension and tongue lashings, makes me lose my appetite. I decide to skip the meal altogether.
I stick with the original plan to go to the home gym. On my way, I stop by the kitchen to make sure Diana is okay. As I approach, I hear a familiar humming. Peeking through the doorway, I spot Diana. She's prepping breakfast, her hips swaying slightly to whatever tune she has in her head. A smile tugs at my lips. I'm relieved to see she doesn't seem bothered by Lana catching us this morning. I wonder how she does that, lets negativity go. The incident with Lana is like a livewire charging through my veins, and here Diana has moved on from the embarrassment of getting caught with the boss’s brother.
For a moment, I consider joining her, letting her sunshine personality chase away my dark mood. But I hold back, not wanting to cause her any more trouble with my family. I told her I’d stay away and not distract her, so I head down to the gym, determined to work off this pent-up frustration and anger.
The burn in my muscles is a welcome distraction. I focus on my breathing, on the strain of each movement as I lift weights. It's familiar, this physical exertion. My body remembers even if my mind doesn't. As I push my limits, I feel a sense of control returning.
By the time I finish, I'm drenched in sweat but calmer. The anger has dissipated, leaving behind a dull ache of frustration. I know the peace is temporary, but I'll take what I can get.
After a quick shower, I head to the garage. Diana's beat-up car sits there. I run my hand along its hood, remembering how it felt to teach her how to change her oil. The memory brings a smile to my face.
I pop the hood, inspecting the engine. It's seen better days, but it's not beyond hope. As I start examining each component, looking for ways to improve its performance, I feel a sense of purpose wash over me. This, I can do. This makes sense to me.
Working on Diana's car feels like a connection to her, even when she's not here. I lose track of time as I tinker, making mental notes of parts I'll need to replace and improvements I can make. It's not just about fixing the car anymore. It's about doing something for her, something that might make her life a little easier. I shrug off the idea that she’ll use this car to leave someday.
Just before lunch, Matteo finds me and invites me out to another meeting. This one is at a restaurant that I’m surprised the family owns.
“Yeah, we were surprised when Elio bought it. Then it turned out it was Piper’s favorite.” Matteo rolls his eyes. “That guy has it hard for that woman.”