I shoot daggers at the engine until the sound of shoes clapping against the sidewalk steals my attention. I’m about to wave the person down, only to stop when I find a pair of dark brown eyes already focused on me. If eyes are the window to the soul, Lorenzo Vittori must lack one, because his blank stare gives absolutely nothing away. It remains emotionless as his eyes ever so slowly rove down my body—a reaction he can’t seem to help whenever I’m around. Today’s outfit is bland at best, like most of my neutral colors lately. Ditching my bright clothes didn’t happen overnight, but rather it
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