Rebel with a Cause Page 14

  Sophy turned to look. From behind the bar Vance stood tall, positively glaring over at where the four of them were dancing. She couldn’t stop the little laugh. But then it died because someone else stepped up from the back of the bar. Even taller than Vance, Lorenzo was glaring even harder—right at her.

  She spun back to face Jay. ‘Shall we dance some more?’

  ‘Sure.’ He pulled her closer.

  But her heart was racing and she could hardly hear the music above the noise in her ears. Only one song later she pushed away. ‘I’m just going to freshen up.’

  She ran cold water over her hands and wrists, trying to cool down and slow her pulse. Then she got her lipstick out and took care repairing her slightly worn look. Then she simply stared at her reflection and wished she could teleport out of there. She really hadn’t liked the look in Lorenzo’s eyes.

  Finally she left the room. He was leaning against the wall in the corridor, his eyes fixed on the door. She paused—stood back to let another woman past before taking the step clear of the doorway. But she kept her distance from him. Knew getting past him was going to be difficult. He looked like a panther about to pounce.

  ‘You look like you’re having a good time,’ he drawled.

  So did he—his hair was tousled, his eyes burning. He looked as if he’d been propping up the bar for hours.

  ‘I am.’ She made herself act perky.

  ‘With one of Rosanna’s cast offs,’ he muttered.

  ‘He’s charming. He’s good company. He doesn’t take himself too seriously.’

  Was that a snort?

  She glared at him. ‘Why are you so dressed up?’ Although the tie was gone it was definitely a tux he was wearing. And even though he wore it carelessly, he wore it too well for her comfort.

  He shrugged. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘I didn’t think you were interested.’ She couldn’t stop the bitchiness.

  He lifted away from the wall. ‘Sophy.’

  ‘No.’ She straightened, getting ready to move. ‘I’ve got someone waiting for me.’ She moved fast to get past. But he pounced—just as she’d known he would.

  Damn, his hands were fast and he was too strong. In seconds he’d pulled her into a room and locked the door. A toilet. Really classy.

  But before she could even start in on the fury she felt he’d pulled her close. His hand cupped her chin, tilting her head back for him to kiss.

  But he didn’t go for her mouth—no, it was her jaw, her neck, that spot beneath her ear that they both knew was so sensitive. She could smell the alcohol on him, could feel how thin his control was and then she felt his lips. That damn sweet tenderness that made her feel as if he was worshipping her with his mouth. She fell back, melting into the kisses; his furious passion rose in a flash, sweeping her away.

  It had been three days. Three long, lonely days in which she hadn’t felt his touch—and as soon as she did she flamed for him. Despite her hurt and disappointment she still wanted him—desperately.

  His kisses deepened as she softened. She panted as he kissed her with ravenous abandon, his hands cupping her butt and rhythmically pressing her against his hard erection as his mouth scalded her skin.

  But as his touch grew bolder, more intimate, her brain started screaming at her. He didn’t want to go out with her—be seen together by their friends or family. But he’d whisk her into the nearest, tackiest place he could so he could get his hands on her? He was the proverbial dog in the manger. Not wanting her but not wanting her to have fun with anyone else? Not fair. Not right.

  She grabbed his chin and forced it up, making him look into her face. Her nails curled into the vulnerable space just below his jawbone. If she were truly part animal she could kill him this way—pierce the skin and slice his throat. But that wouldn’t serve her purpose at all. She wouldn’t scratch him, couldn’t hurt him—not that way at least—despite the anger burning inside her, and the bottomless well of pain that was feeding it.

  For a long moment she looked into his eyes—saw her anger reflected. What bothered him so much? Surely not her dancing with Jay?

  No, this anger was too deep for that. And too old. It was the bitterness she’d seen in him before, only tonight it was burning out of control.

  She looked away, caught sight of their reflection in the mirror—her face pale, her lips that ridiculous bright red from her forties fashion look.

  She turned back to him, brushed her lips against his jaw and then looked at his skin. All praise to the modern cosmetics companies with their long-lasting lip colours—but they’d yet to make them smudge free.

  She kissed his jaw again, then down his neck, pressing her lips hard all the way down to the starched white collar of his shirt—and then across that. As she made her mark she let her hands tease him, inflame him, distract him.

  ‘Sophy.’

  She swore she’d heard that old thread of laughter then—yeah, he was so confident of her surrender. She let her hands slip lower—harder.

  She heard his hissing breath, felt the surge of energy and braced herself.

  But nothing could prepare her for what happened. His hands twisted in her hair as he held her firm and gazed at her. His burning black eyes bored into hers—but there was no laughter in them, not even a smile. He was all serious, so intense and, if she was right, so sad.

  It began as the softest kiss. Then his arms went tight around her, sealing their length, and she felt him straining against her, his touch scorching, his need overwhelming.

  Finally the kiss eased. It was then that she found it—the strength to push him away. To her surprise he let her, his head snapping back as she shoved him hard in the chest.

  She blinked away the tears—of bewilderment, resentment and plain old hurt.

  ‘Gosh, Lorenzo—’ her voice shook ‘—you have lipstick stains all over your face and all over your shirt.’ Her bitter laugh turned into a sob halfway through. ‘How are you going to hide your dirty little secret now?’

  The fury that flashed made her run.

  ‘Sophy!’

  How she got the door open she never knew. But she ran through the crowded bar, desperate for an escape.

  Jay materialised in front of her, eyes wide. ‘Sophy?’

  Yeah, her little paint job meant she had more than a make-up mal function now, she probably looked like a reject from clown school with the slut red lipstick smudged all over her chin. ‘Walk me to a cab, would you?’ She had no idea where Rosanna was but would get Jay to pass the message on later.

  ‘Of course.’ He moved instantly.

  ‘I’ll do that.’ Lorenzo was on the other side of her.

  ‘No, you won’t.’ She pushed past him.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Jay muttered, putting his arm around her, glaring over her head at Lorenzo, who silently stalked next to them.

  ‘Never better. Will you tell Rosanna I’ve gone home?’

  ‘Sure.’

  They got outside. Jay kept a protective arm looped around her shoulders as he stepped to the kerb and waved his spare arm at the taxi rank not far down the road. The first one peeled off and came towards them. Jay stayed with her, holding the door—blocking it from Lorenzo while she got in.

  ‘Sophy.’ Deadly quiet but she heard him anyway.

  Just before she slammed the door she answered. ‘Not now, Lorenzo. I’m too angry, and you’re too drunk.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SOPHY hadn’t been home fifteen minutes when the thudding on her door started.

  She opened the door and glared at him. ‘I said not now.’

  ‘I’m not drunk.’

  ‘Oh, please.’ She looked at the way he was breathing, at the flush in his cheeks. ‘Did you run here?’ He shrugged.

  ‘You shouldn’t run in those shoes. It’ll be bad for your feet.’

  ‘Says the woman wearing stupidly high heels.’

  She whirled away and walked down the hall. ‘What is it you want, Lorenzo?’

&n
bsp; She heard him close the door and walk after her. ‘I just wanted you to know it’s not you. It’s me.’

  She stopped and turned back to stare at him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ She laughed. ‘That’s the line you’re giving me?’

  ‘I was jealous as hell watching you dance with him. Even though I knew there was nothing in it, I was wild. I can’t even blame the booze. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You could have danced with me.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re too good for me.’

  ‘Oh.’ She clasped her hand to her chest. ‘Another great line. Whatever will be next? Let me guess, “I just don’t do relationships, darling,”’ she said, dropping her voice a ridiculous octave. ‘“I was born to be alone.” Am I on the right path?’

  He’d gone pale. Stopped halfway down the hall. ‘Why did you want me to meet your family?’

  ‘I didn’t. It wasn’t like I was going to introduce you to them as my boy friend or anything, Lorenzo. Heaven forbid.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I just wanted you to be there. I wanted your support.’

  ‘No.’ Lorenzo took a deep breath in and reminded himself that he was not going to lose it. Not again. Now was the time for some honesty. He owed her that, at least. ‘I’ve met your father before.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘He was the presiding judge when I was up in court.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Youth court. I was thirteen.’

  ‘What had you done?’

  He shrugged. ‘Graffiti, theft, destruction of property. It wasn’t the first time.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘Ordered some community service. Made the order to send me to that school.’

  ‘Dad did that?’

  ‘Yes. I had “potential.” They thought it might bring it out.’ And it had—to a degree.

  She lifted her brows. ‘And you think what? That your past would put him off you now?’

  Of course it would.

  ‘Doesn’t all you’ve done in the last eighteen years count for anything? Or are you stuck in some kind of time warp? You don’t think what you’ve done with your life since matters?’

  He shook his head. She just didn’t get it.

  ‘So tell me the truth, then.’ She squared up to him. ‘The wine label—it’s a front for money laundering, isn’t it?’

  ‘What? No.’

  ‘Is it drugs, then? You’re secretly growing pot in the vine yards?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sounded disappointed. ‘No illegal activities. You’re not much of a crim then are you?’

  ‘Sophy.’ He so didn’t need the sarcasm right now.

  She didn’t stop. ‘Have you ever been back in court?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’ She folded her arms and eyeballed him. ‘My father believes in justice, Lorenzo. You had a problem. Did some things you shouldn’t have. You did your hours of community service or whatever. Put the wrong right. And he got you into a place that would actually help you. It’s finished. Behind you.’

  ‘He wouldn’t see it like that.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I just do, all right?’ She was so naïve. ‘Do you really think he’d be okay with what I’m doing with you?’

  ‘Well—’ her colour deepened ‘—I don’t think he’d want to know any intimate kind of details about anyone I’m with but—’

  ‘No father wants a man like me to be with his daughter. No father.’

  She lifted her head. ‘Someone’s said that before?’

  ‘More than once,’ he exaggerated. ‘Not good enough.’

  ‘You need to lose the chip, Lorenzo,’ she said coolly. ‘Anyway—’ she lifted her head proudly ‘—I don’t live with them. I’m grown up. I make my own choices. I can see whoever I want.’

  ‘You say that but we both know that what your family thinks means everything to you. You’ve been tied up in knots for weeks over what they’d think of your work. What they think of your lover would be even worse.’ He watched her swallow. Knew he’d scored a hit.

  ‘You’re making far too much of something that happened for ever ago. And even if it did bother Dad initially, it wouldn’t be a problem once he got to know you now.’

  ‘You just don’t get it. I am not the kind of person who should be with you.’

  ‘What kind of person do you think you are? Because I know you. And I know—’

  ‘You don’t know me,’ he interrupted. ‘You’ve got no idea, Sophy.’

  ‘Tell me, then,’ she shouted back.

  ‘Tell you what, Sophy? The ugly truth? How rough it was? How rough I am?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Her anger flared. ‘Why not tell me some more clichés—the abused-boy stories.’

  His vision burst with red. ‘What would you know about it? Having to be taken away from your own parents because of the way they treated you? Your father saying you should have been the scum in an abortionist’s bucket?’ Sophy recoiled.

  ‘Oh, that was nothing, darling,’ he sneered. ‘That was just words and not even the worst. Wait ’til you hear the rest.’

  ‘Lorenzo, I’m sor—’

  He shouted over her. ‘I was beaten for answering him wrong, for not answering soon enough, for not answering at all. It didn’t matter what I did, it happened anyway. With fists, sticks, belts—whatever he had to hand. I wasn’t wanted by him, wasn’t protected by her, and I wasn’t wanted by anyone else after. I’d go to a new house, a new home. Meet a new family. Again and again.’ He was shaking, bunched his fists to try to stop the uncontrollable jerking of his hands.

  ‘Lorenzo, please—’

  His sharp gesture shut her up.

  He took a step back wards down the hall, away from her as his agony boiled over. ‘You think you can possibly know about it? I sought approval, Sophy. I tried. I would have done anything to make it okay. And I tried everything. But it never worked. It was me that was wrong—every time. So I stopped trying so hard. Because every time it was the same. Too difficult. Out of control. Angry. I always stuffed up. Labels stick, so why bother trying? Because in the end you know they don’t want you anyway. They never want you.’

  ‘I want you,’ she whispered.

  It made him incensed. ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘I do.’ She walked after him.

  ‘You like the sex,’ he yelled, taking more steps back. ‘This is just an excursion for you. As hard core as you’ve ever gotten. Your ride with the bad boy. In another week you’ll be over it. Go back to someone perfect, Sophy. Someone from the right background, who’ll fit into your perfect family.’

  ‘My family aren’t perfect.’

  He laughed then. ‘Oh yeah? Your parents love you. You think they don’t but of course they do. They call you all the time, you do things for them all the time. It wouldn’t matter what you do, Sophy, no matter how awful, they’ll still love you, they’ll always love you. But no matter what I did, mine never loved me. And you know the result?’ His throat hurt as he hurled the truth out. ‘I’m damaged, Sophy. Treat someone like an animal and they become an animal. And there’s no changing that.’ That was what her father knew too. ‘You have no idea of the rage I can feel. I frighten myself. And I refuse to frighten you.’

  He stopped, breathing hard. He couldn’t stay in control of anything around her. And it terrified him.

  ‘You don’t frighten me, Lorenzo.’

  ‘I can’t control it,’ he said flatly, admitting the worst. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘You’re hurting me now.’

  He shook his head. No, he was protecting her.

  ‘I love you, Lorenzo. Let me love you.’

  ‘No one can love me.’ He denied her—he had to. ‘And I can’t love. I won’t.’ His back was right up against the door now. ‘I can’t be part of any kind of family. I tried. And I failed every single time. I won’t try again, Sophy. Not even for you.’

  �
��You don’t have to. It can just be me, Lorenzo.’

  He turned and opened the door. ‘It can’t,’ he said heavily. ‘You know it can’t. You want it all—and you should have it. The nice guy who loves you, who’ll stand at the barbie and talk sport with your father, who’ll be a good father to your babies.’ He looked over his shoulder at her. ‘What the hell kind of dad would I make?’ The knife dug deep in his heart and he screwed his eyes tight against the pain. ‘I don’t need it. Don’t want it. Not happening. Not ever happening.’ He stood in the open doorway, the cold pre-dawn air chilling the hall. ‘I’m sorry I manhandled you tonight. You were right. It’s over.’

  Sophy cried. Curled into a ball in the hall and sobbed her heart out. So ironic, wasn’t it, that the ‘perfect’ boy friend had only wanted her for the kudos he could get from her family, while the one she loved wanted nothing to do with her because of them—at least in part? After an age she moved, sat staring at the dining table for hours, barely seeing the pattern in the wood as the conversation circled in her head. And her anger with him grew.

  Coward. The selfish, bitter coward.

  Yet she hurt so much for him—the hell he’d been through. He’d missed out on so much. As a result he didn’t under stand love. And she wanted to help him under stand it. She had to talk to him again, had to show him. Somehow she had to get through to him—or at least try.

  By the time she summoned the courage it was after nine the next morning. He was out the back of the warehouse already. He was in jeans, but had no tee on, hadn’t shaved. He’d been at it for a while because his body was gleaming. But he didn’t stop bouncing the ball. Didn’t stop to look at her.

  ‘You’re wrong, Lorenzo. You know you’re wrong.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘You can’t stop me loving you.’

  He took the shot but missed the hoop.

  ‘You’re using it as an excuse. You like playing the tortured loner type. It’s safe for you. You won’t let anyone close because you can’t bear to be rejected again. But I wouldn’t reject you.’