Lorenzo’s POV
Catherine walked out, and I didn’t stop her.
I had never chased anyone.
People usually came back when they realized what they had walked away from, and I had always trusted that rule.
I went back to enjoying my dinner while the restaurant manager efficiently dealt with the mess.
I was certain Catherine would call within two hours and accept my offer.
But before her call came the news I hated most.
“Lorenzo.” My father’s voice came through, heavy with warning.
“You will stay where you are.
Valentina is on her way into the dining room.”
Valentina Moretti.
My father had spent weeks forcing me into arranged introductions, as if the Moretti family needed to parade women in front of me until one of them became acceptable.
I had refused every time, not because I was difficult, as they liked to call me, but because I had no interest in being pushed toward another marriage after losing Natasha.
“I said no.”
“And I said you will do it.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone for a moment, feeling the familiar irritation settle under my skin.
Twenty minutes later.
The restaurant doors opened again.
Valentina entered in a fitted black dress and high heels that clicked sharply against the marble floor.
She crossed the room as if every eye belonged on her, then slipped into the chair Catherine had left behind.
“Lorenzo,” she said brightly.
“I’m sorry I’m late.
Traffic was terrible.”
“The date is over.”
Her smile faltered.
“It just started.”
“It started twenty minutes ago.
I don’t wait for anyone.”
“My brother warned me you were difficult.” She leaned back and looked me over without hiding her interest.
“I see he wasn’t exaggerating.
Still, you could give a beautiful woman a chance.”
I picked up my glass and took a slow drink.
“You’re not here because of your beauty.”
Her expression tightened.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re sitting across from me because our families decided the Moretti name should be connected to yours. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Don’t mistake a family arrangement for personal interest.”
The color slowly left her face.
“My family said you were looking for a wife.”
“My family has been looking for one.
I have not.”
“Then why did you agree to meet me?”
“Because my father believes repeating himself will eventually make me obedient.”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
“You’re very arrogant.”
“I’m being honest.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t need to.
I already know I’m not interested.”
For a moment, she looked as if she might throw her wine at me.
I almost hoped she would.
At least then she would do something more memorable than smile and repeat the things her family had told her to say.
Instead, she stood with a sharp movement that sent her chair scraping across the floor.
“You’re a bastard.”
“That’s old news.”
Her face flushed.
“Do you think every woman will keep coming back after you treat her like this?”
“No.” I glanced toward the door.
“I expect most of them to have more sense.”
Her lips parted, but no answer came.
She snatched up her purse and turned away, her heels striking the marble harder than before.
“Give my regards to your family,” I said.
“Tell them they can stop sending women to me.”
She threw one last furious look over her shoulder before leaving.
The restaurant seemed to breathe again after the door closed behind her.
By the time I returned home, my father was waiting in the study.
He stood beside the drinks cabinet with one hand resting on his cane, his expression dark enough to tell me Leo had already given him a full report.
“You humiliated Valentina,” Vincenzo barked before I had taken off my coat.
“You broke Ricci’s arm, shattered a family arrangement, and sent the Moretti girl home in tears.
Do you have any idea what you’ve cost this family tonight?”
“Less than you think.” I loosened my tie and walked toward the bar.
“I’m getting married, so you can stop arranging women for me.”
For a moment, he only stared.
Then the color drained from his face before rushing back.
“You’re what?”
“I’m getting married.”
“To Valentina?”
“No.”
His hand tightened around his cane.
“Then who?”
“There was a woman at the restaurant.” I poured myself a drink and leaned against the counter.
“I asked her to marry me.”
His expression darkened.
“Family will not accept some stranger as your wife.”
“You didn’t ask Grandfather for permission when you married my stepmother.”
The rules had always changed whenever they stood in his way.
After a long silence, he said, “One year.
I’ll give you one year.
If you still believe she is fit to carry the Romano name after that, we’ll accept the marriage.”
“There’s a condition.”
“For that year, no one outside the family will know who you are.
You will live as an ordinary man, without the Romano name or the power behind it.
She must believe you are exactly what you show her.”
“Fine,” I said.
“One year.”
That night, I sat in my study with a glass in one hand and Catherine’s file in the other.
Leo had gathered everything within an hour.
I read the final page twice.
The more I learned about Catherine, the more certain I became that I wanted her out of that house.
My phone lit up on the desk.
Unknown number.
I answered on the second ring and waited in silence.
I already knew who it was.
“That thing you said today…” Catherine’s voice was careful, but I could hear the tension beneath it.
“Is it still on the table?”
I looked down at her file, and a slow smile pulled at my mouth.
She had come back.
Not because I had chased her.
Not because I had forced her.
She had made the choice herself, which made the moment far more satisfying.
“Next Monday,” I said.
“Nine o’clock.
City courthouse.
Don’t be late.”