Page 52 of Lost Prince

“Matteo said when they went to the club, the ladies were all over him. He’s fucked them all, you know. Sometimes, several at one time.” Lana shakes her head and a smile comes to her face. “When Dad arranged an engagement between Elio and Ava Rinella, me and Lazaro were about sixteen, and he was adamant that he wouldn’t allow Dad to do that to him. ‘Why would I want to limit myself to one woman?’ he said.”

I understand she’s trying to make me second-guess my decision to be with Lazaro, but I have no reason to doubt what she’s saying, either. I can see Lazaro as a womanizer. But that’s the old Lazaro. He’s different now. I want to tell her that, but there’s no point. Plus, there’s no reason to think he’ll remain different. Back with his family, doing all the things he used to do, the chance of his reverting to his old ways is high. Especially if his memory comes back.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself against Lana's words. "Ms. D'Amato, I’m well aware of my situation. Right now, all I want is for Lazaro to find peace with himself. If being with me helps in any way, I’m happy to be with him.”

Lana's eyebrow arches skeptically. “At some point, he won’t want you. You do understand that, don’t you?”

I pause, meeting Lana's gaze directly. "When Lazaro decides he doesn't want me in his life anymore, I will respect that decision. I'm not here to force myself into his world or yourfamily. I care about him enough to let him go if that's what he truly wants."

My words hang in the air between us. Despite my heartfelt words, skepticism lingers in Lana's eyes. Her gaze remains sharp, calculating, and a knot forms in my stomach.

Lana rises from her seat with a commanding air that makes me instinctively straighten my posture.

"As long as you understand.”

I nod.

“Since you're here, I'd like eggs Benedict for breakfast. And make sure the hollandaise is perfect."

"Of course, Ms. D'Amato. I'll get right on it."

She gives me one last appraising look before turning on her heel and striding out of the kitchen.

I let out a shaky breath, my hands gripping the edge of a chair. The weight of everything—my feelings for Lazaro, the precarious nature of my position here, the D'Amato family dynamics—suddenly feels overwhelming.

I pull the ingredients for eggs Benedict from the refrigerator. I see on the posted menu that Anna has planned French toast. But I can't defy Lana. Right now, at this moment, I’m not Lazaro’s… what am I? A plaything? A dalliance? A distraction? Doesn’t matter. Right now, I work for the family and I’ve been instructed to make eggs Benedict.

I pull out the egg poacher, filling the pan with water to heat as I wipe out the individual poaching trays. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind whirls with worry. Have I just entered a truce with Lana? Or will there be more of her harsh words until I can’t take it anymore? Will Lazaro tire of me? When will that be?

As I put the pan on the heat and start preparing the hollandaise sauce, I try to shake the feeling that I’m walking ona tightrope. One wrong step could send me tumbling either into heartache or death.

20

LAZARO

Ilie under Diana’s car, working to ensure that it’s safe for her to drive while hoping she doesn’t use it to drive away from me.

Over the last month, the inner chaos that filled me since returning home has settled. The tension that came with the unknown has dissipated, replaced by a sense of belonging. My relationship with Lana has improved significantly. We still have our moments of friction, but there's an understanding between us now. She's learning to accept me as I am, and I'm trying to be more patient with her concerns.

Elio and I have grown closer as he’s been teaching me the ropes of the family business, and I'm surprised by how quickly I'm picking things up. It's like muscle memory, even if the actual memories are still frustratingly out of reach.

And my work with Matteo has been productive. We spend a lot of time together, handling various tasks for the family. I don’t worry as much about losing control and being the mad dog anymore. When things get tense, I can usually scowl, letting my past reputation do all the work in making whoever is causing problems to back off.

That’s not to say I’m not apprehensive about the work. There are times when something feels off. Sometimes, I swear someone is watching or following us. Matteo says I’m being paranoid. He even suggests it could be a memory trying to break through. I suppose he could be right. At this point, I don’t have memories, but I do have feelings. I know my siblings not through remembering them but in the deep connection I feel about them.

Right now, I’m on my own time, finding serenity in the garage. I methodically work through a series of tune-ups on Diana’s car. It's therapeutic.

“Do you plan to come up for air?”

I roll out from under the car to find Diana standing there, a warm smile on her face and a tray of food in her hands. The sight of her immediately lifts my spirits.

"You missed lunch and I thought you might be hungry.” She sets the tray down on a nearby workbench.

I straighten up, wiping my hands on a rag. "Thanks. I lost track of time."

Diana's presence feels like a balm. I know she’s also a part of my settling into this new life. She’s a source of comfort and stability amid the chaos of rediscovering myself.

"How's it going?" she asks, gesturing toward her car.