Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
SIENNA
If there’s anything worse than the wedding happening in two weeks, it’s the fact that I have to shop for it.
I’m in the backseat of a moving car with a headache that feels like it’s trying to split my skull in two.
Daniela and Camilla sit in front of me, practically vibrating with excitement.
They’re talking over each other about dresses, designers, jewelry, fabrics—like they’ve forgotten I’m being packaged and delivered to a man I don’t want.
“I think something with pearls would be perfect,” Daniela says.
“Pearls are too soft,” Camilla argues. “Sienna needs something bold. Something unforgettable.”
I stare at the window.
I consider opening it and jumping out. My death will bring me more peace.
I can’t believe this is the second time around I am doing this.
The car hums forward, city noise sliding past in blurred streaks of light and glass.
I press my fingers to my temple.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Don’t think about him.
Of course, my brain ignores me.
Alessandro. The name alone is enough to make my body catch fire. It’s humiliating.
After what happened a few days ago—when he stopped me in that path near the unfinished golf course, in full view of people like it meant nothing—something in me shifted. Or broke.
I still don’t know which.
His hand in my hair.
His voice low near my ear.
The way the world seemed to tilt, waiting for him to decide what I became next.
And the worst part—I didn’t push him away fast enough.
I should have. I should have slapped him. Kicked him. Screamed.
Instead, I stood there.
I swallow hard. Heat crawls up my neck at the memory. I wanted him to kiss me. In that moment of weakness, I craved his touch like air. Ironic that he was the one who stepped away. It crushed my pride. I swear he saw my hunger for him at that moment, and he took a step back.
Bastard.
I’m convinced he’s just playing with me now.
Dangerous memories flash through my head. Of me spread on the sheets. Alessandro between my legs. The pleasure. The heat. My moans. Alessandro’s husky voice.
A shudder runs through my body.
Because even with Domenico, I never felt like that
Never that… sharp pull.
Never has my body betrayed me like this.
Guilt follows immediately after that thought. I’m as much a murderer as Alessandro and every man in our wicked world. I may not have held the gun, but I killed Domenico. He’s dead because of me.
I force my gaze out the window again.
The city rushes past in streaks of color and movement.
Luxury stores. Tall buildings. People living normal lives that don’t involve forced marriages and mafia politics and men who shoot people at lunch tables.
It didn’t escape my notice that Alessandro shot Pietro right after he indirectly called me dumb. Maybe I’m being delusional, but is it really a far-fetched thought? Especially when the same man punched my father for speaking down on me the day before.
“We’re almost there,” Daniela squeals, squeezing my hand. “Sienna, I’m in charge of choosing jewelry.”
“No, I’m in charge of that. I’m older, so I have more experience,” Camilla shoots back.
They’re already arguing when we pull into the Gallo Mall underground garage.
Yes. Gallo Mall.
Of all places, my father insisted on this one—just to prove a point. That the Carusos and the Gallos are now “family.”
The mall is sleek enough, designer stores lined up like trophies, but I can’t shake the irritation. Everything here reminds me of him.
The car stops and we get out one by one as the guards follow us into the elevator.
“What type of wedding dress do you want, Sienna?” Camilla asks gently.
I don’t answer right away. Because the truth is that I don’t know, I don’t care and I definitely don’t want to think about it.
“Can we skip the dress today?” I ask instead. “We can do accessories.”
Camilla studies me, then nods like she understands more than she says.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t still look at dresses,” Daniela says with a grin. “We’ve got Papa’s card. Shop till you drop.”
Of course, she says it like it’s a blessing.
Daniela always says there are no benefits to being Massimo’s daughter other than his money so whenever she can she spends it.
Smart, if you ask me.
They pull me into the first boutique.
Glass, white lights, mannequins frozen in perfection. I see outrageous price tags hanging from luxurious dresses. Daniela is already going through the racks, obviously on a Max-Papa’s-Card mission.
“May I assist you with something?” one of the shop assistants says quickly.
Daniela flashes her a bright smile. “Something for me and my sisters. But when I see it, I’ll know.”
That’s Daniela in a nutshell.
Soon, Daniela and Camilla both have their hands full of clothes, moving between rails and mirrors, already debating colors when my phone rings.
I glance at the screen.
May.
An old friend from school.
It hits me for a second—how far away that life feels. Like it belonged to someone else.
I don’t really have friends from school anymore. They left when they realized I was never there to hangout. They labeled me “too much”, “stuck up”, which I genuinely understood. Somehow, May stayed.
We’ve kept in touch over texts and calls, but I haven’t seen her in years.
I step back slightly, touching Daniela’s arm. “I have a call.”
She nods absently, already distracted by a dress she’s arguing about with Camilla.
I slip out of the boutique, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Sienna!” She shrieks.
“Hi, May.”
Her excitement is contagious, and for a moment my shoulders loosen.
We talk like no time has passed.
She laughs about her two-year-old son—how he refuses to sleep unless the lights are on, how he’s suddenly obsessed with shoes that don’t belong to him, how he runs everywhere like the world is chasing him.
I find myself smiling as I walk.
The further I move down the mall corridor, the quieter it gets. Stores thin out here. People disappear. It leads toward the far end where the bathrooms are usually empty.
“Wait, he did what?” I ask, laughing softly.
May laughs too. “I swear, Sienna, I turned for one second and he had climbed onto the kitchen counter.”
I shake my head, still smiling. “That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”
“He is a disaster,” she says. “A cute one, but still—”
I round the corner.
And everything in me stops.
Alessandro.
He is ahead of me, standing near the end of the corridor, speaking to a man who looks like he regrets being born. The man’s posture is stiff, guarded, but not in control. Not even close. Fear is written all over him.
My smile fades slowly.
Because there he is again.
The same man I shouldn’t keep running into. The same man I can’t seem to ignore.
My gaze rakes over Alessandro despite myself.
He’s so attractive, it’s unfair. Very unfair.
He’s dressed in black pants and a grey dress shirt.
He would look elegant, but the buttons of the shirt are halfway opened, displaying a muscular chest with a hint of tattoos.
His sleeves are rolled up his forearms, and even from a distance, I can see the sexy litter of veins, and even more tattoos.
Alessandro says something low to the man. He nods too quickly, like he’s agreeing just to survive the conversation.
And then, just like that, they both turn and they’re heading for the stairs.
Without thinking, I move.
“May,” I say quickly, lifting the phone again. “I’ll call you back.”
“What? Sienna—”
“I’ll call you back,” I repeat, already ending the call.
I follow, ensuring I stay very hidden.
Thankfully it’s only one floor down. I stay a few steps behind, keeping my distance, watching them descend to the lower level. The parking garage.
The air changes the moment I reach the bottom of the stairs. I slow immediately, pressing myself slightly out of sight near a concrete pillar.
Alessandro instantly turns to the man, his face a picture of rage. I stay hidden. Just far enough to see. Close enough to hear.
“What did you tell Luca?” Alessandro’s voice cuts through the space
The man stumbles over his words immediately. “I—I didn’t—nothing serious, I swear—”
Alessandro steps closer.
The man steps back.
“Try again,” Alessandro says.
Something in his tone makes my stomach tighten.
The man swallows hard. “He asked about the Kuznetsov connection. I told him what I knew—what everyone knows—”
Alessandro tilts his head slightly.
“And?”
The man hesitates.
That hesitation costs him.
Alessandro moves, brutally kicking the man. A dull impact echoes through the garage. The man stumbles sideways, catching himself against a parked car.
My breath catches before I can stop it.
I shouldn’t be watching. He already warned me about spying on him days ago. But I can’t tear my eyes away.
“Wrong answer,” Alessandro says quietly.
The man raises his hands defensively. “I’m telling you, I don’t know anything else—please!”
Another hit. Harder this time and the sound echoes off concrete.
I flinch before I can stop myself, fingers tightening around the edge of the pillar.
This is the version of him that matches all the stories I’ve heard. The monster. The killer. The blade. He’s been called many scary names, and I see why. There’s a calmness in his eyes as he delivers blow after blow, until the man is bloodied and crumpled on the ground.
Alessandro crouches slightly, grabbing him by the front of his jacket.
“Luca is moving without me,” he says, voice low. “So either you’re lying… or you’re a useless Kuznetsov.”
The man is shaking now. “I swear—I swear that’s all I know—”
My thoughts scramble to catch up.
Oh…he’s obviously trying to extract information from this Kuznetsov man. So he wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t chasing an alliance with the Bratva, he just wanted information.
But that doesn’t mean I can trust him. One truth doesn’t mean he’s not a dangerous bastard. Danger is still danger.
Alessandro exhales slowly, like he’s deciding something.
Then he reaches into his coat.
My stomach drops instantly as he withdraws a knife.