For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance) Page 4

They were?

  “So I’m going to tell you my secret,” Farica had decided. “I have the biggest crush on Steel March.”

  Oh.

  “And because you like his friend, we can have a double wedding. Yay, right?”

  And the rest was history, Lane thought with a reminiscing smile.

  Beside her, Farica suddenly started squeezing her arm. “Oh my God, Lane. He’s there. He’s really there, and he’s waiting for ME.”

  Lane grinned.

  “And oh my God, Lane, he’s there, too.”

  “Who?”

  “Angelo Valencia.”

  Her head snapped towards where Farica was staring.

  Her friend was right.

  He was there.

  Her fallen angel.

  Or at least he had been, but now he was walking away.

  Again.

  He was always walking away from her, and she just didn’t get it. Didn’t he feel what she was feeling? Was it really all on her side?

  She bit her lip, wanting so much to go after him.

  But something stopped her, and it wasn’t pride or even shyness. It was something else, something that told Lane the next step…had to come from him.

  So please take that next step, she whispered in her heart.

  Please.

  ****

  And so their cat-and-mouse game continued. In class, he would do his best to avoid her gaze even though she would not stop staring at him. But every damn day, there would be that one instance he wouldn’t be able to help it.

  He’d look at her, and always she would already be looking at him, her rosebud lips seemingly parted in invitation.

  Steal my first kiss, those rosebud lips seemed to tempt and taunt him at the same time.

  And it would be her first kiss, he thought grimly. Even though she and that boy from the convenience store were going out, he was experienced enough to recognize the signs, had seen innocence defiled too many times to count.

  She had never been kissed, and certainly her body had never known a man’s touch.

  But the fact remained.

  She belonged to someone else.

  That first day they had met, he had practically tripped on his own feet in his haste to get back to her. But from across the street, he had seen her with the boy, and they had their heads together, talking with a kind of intimacy that only people who were exceptionally close could do.

  And when he had spoken to the boy, saw the love in the younger man’s eyes, Angelo’s worst fears had been confirmed. Even now, the taste of bitter defeat still hadn’t left his mouth, and just thinking about it made him murderous.

  She was everything he didn’t want in his life, dammit. She would only bring him nothing but trouble, he thought savagely. He knew all this, dammit, so why the hell couldn’t he put an end to this game?

  All it would take was a single moment to show her that he was not what she imagined him to be, a single moment for her to know what he already knew.

  That he was worth no one’s love.

  ****

  The cat-and-mouse game could have gone on endlessly.

  But there was no way to know.

  The rules, and the very game itself, completely changed the day he saw her kiss the convenience store boy.

  Even though he had always been known to be courteous and cool-headed, the truth was that Angelo was as proud and possessive as any other hot-blooded Italian.

  Her standing so close to another man who wasn’t him, her laughing in another man’s company when that sound should only have been for his ears—

  All of those he could commit murder for.

  But for her lips to be taken by another man—

  This, he could not, would not forgive.

  He didn’t give a damn if he was being sexist about it, didn’t give a damn if his feelings made no sense at all.

  It didn’t matter if they had made no promises, didn’t matter that he had deliberately made no attempt to learn her name.

  The moment she had stared at him like she wanted to belong to him—

  A part of him had believed it.

  But she had betrayed him.

  And so from that moment on, she ceased to exist for him.

  ****

  To forget her, there wasn’t a night that he went to bed alone. He would have one, two, sometimes even more girls than he had fingers in bed with him.

  But while all the girls he fucked were as experienced and skillful as he was, none of them ever proved capable of filling the growing hollowness inside of him.

  It was as if her mere existence had served to underscore the emptiness of his life, and he hated her and himself even more for it.

  Was he to be eternally condemned to want what could never be his?

  Memories of his past answered him mockingly, and his face hardened.

  Jaw clenching, he told himself that this obsession he had for the girl would soon pass. That the need to possess when he had only felt the softness of her hand would fade. Soon.

  Because all of this was just sheer insanity.

  And it would pass.

  It had to.

  But he was wrong.

  ****

  He saw her at the bus stop on the last day of school, right before spring break. He was on his way to the parking lot when he saw her, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and her petite, curvy frame dwarfed by hideously serviceable clothes.

  That was another thing about her, he thought broodingly. She didn’t seem the type to have such appalling taste in clothes, but she always showed up to class wearing things that could only be politely described as…unappealing.

  He stopped walking even as his mind warned him it would better to pretend he hadn’t seen her…and that goddamn boy.

  They were talking again, and she was smiling, too. The sight of it made him want to shake her.

  Did she not know all her smiles could only be for him?

  A bus slowed to a stop in front of the two.

  Any moment now, the two would leave, and his body tensed at the realization. His fists clenched and unclenched, and he inhaled roughly.

  Let it go, Valencia.

  Let her leave.

  But his feet were already moving even before he could complete the thought.

  If he didn’t stop her from leaving, it wouldn’t just be her kisses that would belong to the boy, he thought savagely.

  It would be her body.

  And the moment he thought that, there was no turning back.

  Chapter Four

  Women loved chick flicks, and most of them liked the parts where the couples kissed, flirted, and made up. Some even liked the meet-cute parts best because these were the moments that gave them hope. These boy-meets-girl scenes ranged from realistic to impossible, but even so, all of them made a girl hope that one fateful day, the boy destined for her would come, however improbable.

  But not all women were the same.

  For women like Lane, it was the part where two people in love were hurting that they liked the most. Women like Lane saw pain as the other side of love, and it was both emotions that made their hearts beat hard and fast.

  While most women hated Richard Gere for failing Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman—

  While most women wanted Heath Ledger (God rest his soul) for what he did to Julia Stiles in Ten Things I Hate about You—

  Women like Lane were different.

  Women like Lane craved such scenes.

  For them, the torment was necessary, the only way for a man to understand what he once had…and lost. For women like Lane, the storm had to come before the rainbow, and most importantly of all, women like Lane believed that being hurt was a beautiful thing, but only if they were being hurt by the right person.

  Pain, not joy, was what made life real, and it was pain – not kindness – that yielded its power to love.

  It was a twisted little truth that few would ever understand, a truth that would eventually open Lane’s eyes to the nature
of her soul, the secret she was born with, and her destiny.

  But she wasn’t to learn any of this…until the day Angelo started hurting her.

  In the days that she would see her fallen angel with another girl, Lane would always end up asking herself why. Why couldn’t she start hating him? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Why?

  The answers eluded her, and so did any sense of self-righteous anger. Even as her heart continued to ache and each day that passed became a darker shade of gray, she was unable to stop waiting.

  Wait, a small voice inside of her insisted, forbidding her to cry at night, forbidding her to lose hope.

  Wait.

  It was a promise, an entreaty…and a command.

  Wait.

  And so she waited.

  She waited and waited, and before Lane knew it, the semester had ended, and it was time to go home. She stood next to Josh at the bus stop, listening absently to her friend’s mix of diatribe and advice.

  You’ll forget him soon enough when you’re back with your family.

  You don’t deserve someone like him. He’s too good for you.

  On and on it went, but even though she knew everything that her friend had said made perfect sense, a part of her refused to believe a word of it.

  Wait, that part of her insisted.

  Even as her heart had crumbled into its last few pieces, that part of her refused to relinquish its hold on its unspoken dreams.

  Wait.

  Beside her, Josh was asking in an oddly petulant voice, “Is he really that special?”

  She watched him kick a pebble out of his way, his frustration evident. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again a moment later. How could she explain something she didn’t even understand herself?

  “Never mind.” Josh’s tone had turned harsh. “Your silence says enough.”

  “Josh, I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, only knew that she felt obliged to. “I appreciate you looking after me, really, but—”

  “He’s not coming back, Lane!”

  Josh’s sudden yell startled her, and she stammered, “Josh, calm down—”

  “You need to see the truth for yourself!” Josh was still yelling, and he was gripping her shoulders now and shaking so hard her eyeglasses were in danger of slipping off her nose. “He’s never coming back—”

  “Josh, please—” She managed to push her glasses up and tried to wriggle out of his hold.

  “Never coming back—”

  And out of nowhere, someone interrupted almost languidly, “Ah, but I have.”

  ****

  Panic had not figured in Angelo’s life for so long a time, and it was mostly because there was nothing – and no one – he cared enough to want to keep. Until her.

  He didn’t pause to even think of how uncool he was being or worry about what other people would think. Even when he was playing the villain, there had still been rules that he abided by. Be in control, be polite, and most of all, be emotionally detached. These were what made him seem unattainable to women, what made them want him more. But these were also what kept him safe.

  Until her.

  With his strong, powerful hands, he clasped her waist and even as she gasped, he whirled her around to face him.

  Their eyes clashed, hers filled with shock and his blazing with emotions.

  If he didn’t feel so perilously close to killing the boy behind her, he would have teased her for staring so unashamedly at him.

  Are you really here, those caramel brown eyes asked Angelo, and he heard himself say, “Yes.” When she looked at him, clearly bemused, he realized she was too innocent to know just what her eyes were telling him, and a crooked smile formed on his lips. Pure and seductive all rolled into one, Angelo thought wryly even while he strove to catch his breath and rein his erection back at the same time. He only had to look at her and his body lost all control over his cock. She was definitely going to have him wrapped around her finger in no time.

  Lane’s heart was knocking hard against her chest. Oh gosh, gosh, oh gosh. They were the only thoughts she was capable of, and she knew, if Nellie could hear her now, she would be teased for being the ‘gauche gosh girl.’

  But she couldn’t help it.

  His ridiculously chiseled looks turned her mind into mush, and with him so close, she couldn’t help thinking he seemed so much taller, so much more gorgeous and powerful than she remembered.

  But then she noticed something else—

  Something was off about him, she realized.

  The slightly tousled look of his hair, the almost feral look in his eyes, and was she just imagining things or was Angelo Valencia breathing a little too hard, like he was panting?

  Unable to think of anything that could make Angelo Valencia lose his legendary cool, her awe was replaced by concern and Lane blurted out, “Are you okay? You’re not breathing right.”

  Angelo deliberately didn’t answer. Not in this lifetime would he ever let her know he had been so uncool as to run after her like he was shooting for the big climax of a Woody Allen movie.

  “Ange—Professor Valencia?”

  His lips compressed, but he managed to keep his voice level as he murmured, “The seminar’s over. You should call me Angelo.”

  Before Lane could answer, she and Angelo heard Josh make an incoherent sound of protest.

  Angelo’s gaze swung to Josh, and the look he shot her friend was so vicious she heard Josh whimper like a kid.

  He slowly turned to face her again, and not wanting him to give her the same look, she said quickly, “Angelo.”

  His lips twitched. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “If y-you say so.” That look he gave Josh wasn’t exactly easy to forget, it had been downright terrifying. “But…are you feeling fine now?” He wasn’t breathing so hard anymore, but —

  She bit her lip, her anxiety returning.

  One couldn’t be too sure…right?

  “Maybe we should get you to a doctor—”

  Angelo was exasperated and amused, but underneath that he was reluctantly touched at her concern. She looked like she was ready to call 911 for him.

  “If there’s anything I need right now—”

  Relieved that she’d be able to do something to help, she asked eagerly, “What is it? I’ll get it—”

  “It’s you,” he said simply.

  “Okay, I’ll get—what did you say?”

  “I need you.” His hands on her waist tightened. “I want you to stay here with me.”

  Had…she…really…heard…him…right?

  Lane slowly coughed. “Did you just, umm, say—”

  He only looked at her.

  Oh. Gosh. Gosh, oh gosh. Lane was impossibly overwhelmed. She couldn’t have heard him say that. She must be dreaming—

  His lips twitched. “Tesoro?” She looked up, uncertain if he was talking to her, and he said, “You can touch me if you think it would help you believe this is real.”

  Gosh.

  Oh gosh.

  GOSH.

  Only Angelo Valencia, she thought dazedly. Only Angelo Valencia could definitely get away with saying something so provocative—

  Behind them, Josh said plaintively, “The bus is coming, Lane. We should go.”

  She was about to answer, but then she saw the way Angelo’s eyes flickered so oddly. “What is it?”

  “Lane, the bus is here.” The bus’ rumbling engine as it slowed to a stop partially drowned his words.

  Angelo was staring at her like he was seeing her first the time. “Lane.”

  Entranced at the way he said her name like it was magical, she breathed in the same tone, “Angelo,” thinking all the while that maybe this was an Italian thing between lovers or would-be lovers.

  “Lane—”

  She was right. It was an Italian thing. So she repeated obediently, “Angelo.” Didn’t Italians love opera? Maybe this was some kind of custom and they’d
break into a duet—

  “Lane. I never knew your name until now.”

  Again, she echoed his words, “I never knew—” Then his words sank in, and she gasped. “You don’t know my name?”

  “Lane, we really should go now,” Josh called desperately behind them.

  She and Angelo paid him no heed.

  “How is that even possible?” She was genuinely confused. She was one of his students, for heaven’s sake.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Faint color slashed his high-boned cheeks.

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or feel insulted. “Not knowing my name doesn’t matter?”

  “No.” Before she could protest, he drawled, “Because I can always call you ‘mine,’ can’t I?”

  Gosh. Gosh, oh gosh.

  Silver eyes gleamed down at her with a mix of amusement and possessiveness. “And you’re mine…aren’t you?”

  Lane’s first instinct was to throw her arms wide open and shout to the world, ‘Yes.’ Oh, how she would love to belong to him.

  But she remembered the people who loved her, who painstakingly helped piece her back together again, and she knew she just couldn’t say ‘yes’ to him just like that, knew she owed it to her family to value herself a little more.

  “If you want me to be yours, then why did you stand me up?”

  Josh squeaked behind her.

  When Angelo didn’t answer, she continued, “Why did it seem like you were avoiding me?” She knew he might think she was mad, but she wasn’t. She just wanted him to prove to her that her faith in him wasn’t misplaced.

  “Why, Angelo? Why didn’t you even try talking to me again? And why,” she asked haltingly, and this was the most painful of all, “would someone so terribly old-fashioned like you be suddenly so touchy-feely with that model?”

  “I can answer all that.”

  His tone was flat, and yet she could sense there was a ‘but’—

  “But first…”

  She was right.

  “I’m going to kill that boy for daring to lie—” He released her and took a dangerous step towards…