For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance)

by Marian Tee

  Bree slowly but steadily made her way through the crowd, and the bouncers quickly threw the doors open the moment they saw her face. “Thanks,” Bree said with a smile. She waved to Lane, murmuring, “She’s with me.”

  The bouncers nodded but immediately closed ranks as soon as they walked past. When the doors closed, Lane asked, “Do you still feel jealous about them?”

  “Every second,” Bree said so feelingly Lane couldn’t help but smile.

  “I used to be paranoid and insecure about them, too, but now, I’m used to it. The thought that they want Dylan makes me shrivel inside, but I also know Dylan loves me so…” She looked at Lane and hesitated.

  Lane saw the curiosity in the other girl’s eyes and guessed, “Y-you’re wondering about the night of the party?”

  “They were all over him,” Bree said slowly. “Like really over him.” Since thinking about the same thing happening with Dylan was enough to make her want to cry, Bree asked with genuine curiosity, “None of it made you jealous?”

  “Oh, it did. Very much.” The last words were spoken with as much feeling as Bree had earlier.

  Bree blinked. “Then why did you let them—”

  “Because,” she admitted helplessly, “It’s also what I like to feel.”

  Oh. Dylan had explained to her about the unique bond between the two, but Bree had never really thought it was possible until now. She had secretly thought it twisted, but now that she saw how Lane’s eyes were filled with love—

  It was real, and it was right, Bree realized. And it meant that love didn’t have to take the same form for everyone.

  When they made it to the VIP section, Lane was dismayed to see that she was seated next to a snobbish-looking couple. The girl had diamonds on just about every part of her body while the guy looked like a walking advertisement for Dior. She took a peek behind her but just as quickly turned around to face the stage again. Everyone else behind her looked rich, too, and knowing that there were so many of them made her want to throw up.

  But you need to cope with it.

  It was Angelo’s voice, silky and uncompromising, playing in her head.

  Cope with it or you’ll find me coping with another woman.

  Lane almost winced. Even the mere memory of his threat was still terrifying.

  Taking a deep breath, she whispered to Bree, “Do you know the couple beside me?”

  The other girl took a peek. “Oh. Elena Nolan and her boyfriend, Edwin Simpson,” she whispered back. “Why?”

  Lane shook her head. “Just asking.”

  Curious, Bree watched Lane take her phone out and type the woman’s name. A biography showed up, together with the photo, and she saw Lane breathe a sigh of relief. “Just a model,” Bree heard the girl whisper to herself.

  Lane typed the man’s name, and Bree heard Lane inhale sharply when it turned out that Edwin Simpson was a CEO. Lane’s fingers moved again, and Bree couldn’t help raising a brow when she read the words. Now, why would Lane want to know Edwin’s net worth?

  A figure from Forbes came up.

  Lane breathed a sigh of relief again.

  This time Bree had to ask. “Why do you want to know how much he’s worth?”

  Lane jumped. “B-Bree!”

  Oops. “Sorry,” Bree apologized sheepishly.

  Her heart still racing at the shock Bree gave her, Lane stammered, “It’s a n-new coping technique. We got the idea from an article in Psychology Today.”

  “And the technique is…”

  “It’s basically a matter of r-relativity. If I’m not a-afraid of Angelo, why should I be afraid of someone w-whose net worth is lower?”

  Bree’s eyes widened.

  Then she started to laugh, seeing how it made a twisted kind of sense. “And it’s working?” she asked with a grin.

  Lane slowly grinned back. “Yes.”

  The concert started then, and they both turned their attention to the YouTube sensation tapped to perform as the Minuit Rouge’s front act. As Bree listened to the girl sing a cappella, she mused silently on how much Lane and Angelo had changed.

  Lane was more outgoing now, more…willing to take social risks, if there was such a thing. And maybe it was because she had known Angelo Valencia far longer, the changes that the Italian tycoon had undergone were even more startlingly obvious. In the past, Bree had found him icily intimidating with the way he seemed incapable of any kind of error. While most women found him sexy, Bree had only been able to see him as a perfectly made robot…

  Until Lane.

  Only when Lane came into his life did Bree see Angelo show genuine emotion. As for the fact that Angelo’s emotions mostly ranged from mocking amusement to cruel pleasure, and always over something he had tormented his girlfriend with—

  Lane caught her friend looking at her. “What is it?”

  “You’re really happy with Angelo, right?”

  She blinked at the unexpected question but answered honestly, “Yes.”

  Bree sighed in relief. “I thought so, and I think that’s all that matters. You agree, right?”

  “Right.” Lane wondered what had come over her friend, but there was no time to ask. Minuit Rouge had finally come on stage and everyone in the hall surged to their feet, welcoming their favorite band with deafening cheers.

  The concert was amazing, more so since it was Lane’s first time to attend one. But even so, Lane still found herself occasionally wondering where Angelo was, what he was doing, who he was with. She badly wanted to text him but didn’t, knowing that he would mostly likely ignore her.

  Her lips curved in a rueful smile at the thought.

  A week had passed since the night of the party, and things between them had completely changed. It was not, however, the kind of change one would expect. Both of them knew that they had crossed a line that night, one that made Angelo hers. Even without the words, they both knew that he was hers, irrevocably.

  And normally that would make a boyfriend sweeter and more affectionate—

  But instead Angelo was the opposite.

  Since the night of the party, Angelo had become more sadistic, and the innovative ways in which he employed his tortuous brand of pleasure seemed endless.

  Yesterday, he had told her he would take her out on a date and asked that she wait for him at the restaurant. Minutes turned into an hour and when she had finally run out of the restaurant in tears, it was to find him waiting outside, beautiful, sexy, and with the wickedest grin on his lips.

  And he actually had the gall to tease her, saying, “Took you long enough to get mad.”

  Again and again, he teased her mercifully, deliberately goading her to anger or provoking her to have a jealous fit. He drove her mad every day, and none more so than when the party had ended and he had carried her to his bedroom. He had made love to her until dawn but when she was about to sleep, he had told her brusquely to get out of his bed.

  She had blinked at him in shock.

  Because I’ve had my fill of you, so get out.

  She had stumbled out of his bed, tears blinding her, but just as she turned towards the door, his hand had snaked out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist—

  And then he had yanked her back to bed, and as she tumbled into him, he had whispered with the most devilishly sweet smile, “I was only joking, tesoro.”

  She had burst into tears after that, too. But instead of apologizing, he had only licked her tears, saying they were still the most delicious things he had ever tasted.

  When she had only cried harder, he had crooned to her ear, “Tell me, my Lane. Do you want me to change? I will, for you. Just say the word.”

  And even as she cried, she hadn’t hesitated. Her answer hadn’t even been no.

  It had been never.

  Recalling the incidents made Lane’s heart ache, but it was a good kind of ache, the same way that the pain Angelo gave her, no matter how sharp, was never too much. It was almost as if he had developed a sixth sense for knowi
ng when he was almost at the point of breaking her heart—

  And then he would stop, smile, reward her – he’d make her feel so cherished that she would find herself falling in love again.

  And so went the unending cycle of her life, she thought ruefully.

  Feeling guilty that she had spent too much time daydreaming about Angelo, Lane stole a look at her companion and realized that Bree was lost in her own world as well. If a girl could really have stars in her eyes, then Bree had it, an entire constellation, and all of them were shining for the man singing on stage.

  Did she look at Angelo the same way?

  The mere idea was embarrassing, and when her phone vibrated almost right after, her face flamed with guilt. Answering the call, she stammered, “Hello?”

  She could barely hear Angelo’s reply, and she frowned. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”

  Angelo said something indecipherable.

  “Let me go somewhere quiet, please don’t hang up.” She tapped Bree on the shoulder, and cupping her hand over her mouth, she told Bree, “I’ll j-just go out and answer Angelo’s call, okay?”

  “Want me to go with you?” Bree offered.

  Lane was touched by the offer, knowing that Bree didn’t want to miss a second of Dylan’s performance. “You don’t have to w-worry about me. I got this.” She flashed Bree a thumbs up for added assurance.

  “Okay, but just give me a call if you need anything. Like, anything, because I know Angelo’s going to kill me if something happens to you.”

  “Okay,” Lane said, privately doubting Bree’s words. Angelo was always cool and collected. She couldn’t picture him going ballistic over anything.

  The VIP section had its own private lounge and with the concert ongoing, Lane was relieved to find the luxuriously designed place nearly empty. There was only one other couple beside her, but they were too busy making out for Lane to feel nervous around them. As long as they kept kissing, Lane would be more than happy to ignore them.

  Choosing the table farthest from them, she lowered herself to the couch and tried calling Angelo, but all she got was his voice mailbox. Was it because he was calling her, too or maybe he was—

  A shadow fell over her, and with her gaze absently trained on the lounge’s purple carpet, the first thing Lane saw was a pair of studded Valentinos.

  Apprehension skittered down her spine, but she told herself that there was nothing to worry about.

  “So you’re Angelo Valencia’s new fuck buddy.”

  Or maybe there was.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “This way, sir.” A police officer led the way through the precinct, stopping to open an unlabeled door at the end of the hallway. Inside, Angelo found Lane seated on one end of the table, and he inhaled sharply at the sight of her.

  I’m never going to let her out of my sight again. Just remembering Fico’s message about Lane being involved in an altercation that required police assistance was enough to leave his blood cold. His fists clenched and unclenched and he worked hard to get his rage under control.

  “D-Do I really have to repeat everything she said?” he heard her ask.

  The police officer nodded. “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

  “Everything?”

  Angelo saw Lane’s chest rise and fall as she drew her breath. And then she started to speak. “She came up to me at the VIP lounge, and her first words were— ‘So you’re Angelo Valencia’s new fuck buddy.’”

  “Did you recognize the person who said this?”

  Lane shook her head.

  “She’s pretty famous, ma’am,” the police officer said skeptically.

  “I’m afraid I d-don’t watch much TV.”

  “She’s a former tennis champion.”

  “Or s-sports.”

  The police officer said finally, “What happened next?”

  Angelo listened to Lane recount the incident, his lips tightening at the mention of his ex-lover warning Lane about Angelo getting rid of her as soon as boredom set in.

  “S-she said that…” Lane stopped, her hands wringing anxiously on her lap.

  “I know this is difficult, ma’am, but you must tell us everything.”

  Lane said tonelessly, “She told me she and I were the same, only I w-was just too foolish to realize it. She said that w-we were just t-there to fill a hole left by Angelo’s…”

  The police officer’s mouth opened and closed.

  Lane was crying silently.

  Ah.

  He was frozen, unable to take his gaze away from the silent stream of her tears, knowing that if he tasted them now, it would…break his heart.

  And then he heard her whisper, “S-she said w-we were just there to fill a hole left by Angelo’s f-first love.”

  “She said that no matter what we did, we would never compare to her.”

  Angelo slowly turned away.

  “That I should leave, before I g-get hurt, too.”

  Angelo left.

  He had heard enough.

  ****

  It was almost two in the morning when the police finally allowed her to leave, and a brewing storm was there to greet Lane the moment she stepped out of the precinct. Fico and Umberto came forward upon seeing her, snapping their umbrellas open so they could keep her dry.

  “The car’s waiting by the curb, signorina.”

  But Lane didn’t go with them right away, asking, “W-Where’s Angelo?”

  “He’s not here, signorina.”

  She shook her head. “Officer Samuels told me he came by.” In fact, the officer also told her Angelo had been present during a portion of her interview. She glanced around her searchingly, but when Angelo still didn’t appear, she asked the bodyguards, “He’s here somewhere, isn’t he?”

  Fico looked at Umberto for guidance, and the older guard said in a perplexed tone, “No, ma’am.”

  But the signorina shook her head again, saying, “He p-probably told you to lie. Didn’t he?”

  This time neither bodyguard spoke, and it was their silence that finally made it clear.

  Panic started to stir inside her, but Lane told herself to keep it together. This was another trick, just another trick to make her cry, and then he would come and make her feel better.

  Forcing a smile, she said, “He’s probably just hiding from me, and h-he wants me to find him. Right?”

  Neither man answered.

  “Maybe he’s just hiding behind those shrubs—”

  Fico and Umberto were stunned to see the signorina actually turn around to check if their boss was indeed hiding behind the shrubs, which would have been understandable…only they were more than two feet tall.

  When Lane turned to look at them again, Fico said reluctantly, “I’m sorry, signorina. If Signor Valencia is here, then we have not been made aware of it.”

  Oh.

  Lane’s heart started to ache, but she told herself that maybe Angelo just didn’t want the guards to accidentally ruin his surprise.

  But he would be here.

  He had to be.

  He had to be here because if he wasn’t—

  Lane didn’t let herself finish the thought.

  He would be here.

  Unable to bear the way her heart was aching, she started to run, trying to look for any sign of Angelo.

  Her guards called out to her, but Lane ignored them.

  He would be here.

  She only had to find him.

  Her vision blurred, but she no longer knew if it was rain or her tears blinding her. Still, she kept running, unwilling to stop because she knew the moment she did, she would be forced to—

  A discarded box that she saw too late made her trip, and she started to lose her balance.

  Nooooo—

  But it was as if fate was forcing her to accept the truth, and as she fell to her knees, it was like the sky had fallen to its knees with Lane, raindrops mingling with the tears trailing down her cheeks.

  But still, she refused to believe
he would not come.

  He’s going to see me now, she thought feverishly, and he’s going to come out and tell me I’m such a fool. He’s going to tell me he was just joking and—

  Fico and Umberto reached her. “Signorina, let us help you.” They tried placing Lane under their umbrellas but she shook her head. “No, p-please.”

  “But signorina, you’re getting soaked—”

  “No, please.”

  How to explain that she had a feeling Angelo wanted her at her lowest before he’d come out to rescue her?

  “Just p-please take a step back. Please?”

  “But signorina, it’s raining harder—”

  She choked out, “Please.”

  Her two guards reluctantly stepped away.

  And she stayed on her knees.

  “Signorina, we have to go.”

  “No, I have to wait. I think he’s c-coming out any second—”

  But this time, the guards wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I’m sorry, signorina, but we—”

  She shook her head quickly at them. “Don’t say it.” Because if they did, then all hope would be lost.

  Lane would just be like everyone else, waiting and hoping for the impossible.

  And that was for Angelo Valencia to forget his first love.

  A shiver threaded through her body, but she forced herself to ignore the cold.

  He would come out anytime now.

  Anytime.

  And so she waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  She would wait here forever until he came.

  And he would, wouldn’t he?

  Her eyes closed, and Lane’s teeth sank deep into her lower lip as she fought the urge to sob her heart out. Dimly, she heard heavy footsteps make splashing sounds against the wet ground and wondered numbly if Fico and Umberto had also left—

  “Tesoro.”

  The rain stopped just as fear trapped the air inside her lungs.

  “Open your eyes, tesoro.”

  Ah.

  She whispered, “I want to. But I’m s-scared. That if I o-open my eyes, I’d r-realize I’m just dreami—”