Chapter Fourteen
Serena
“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” Sienna’s voice breaks the moment our eyes meet. Her lashes are wet instantly, tears clinging to her cheeks as if they’ve been waiting for permission to fall. My own vision blurs, and I give up trying to blink the tears away. They spill freely.
“I looked for you, Serena,” she whispers, her breath hitching as she clutches me tighter. And for a heartbeat, all I can think about are Lorenzo’s words. That he looked for me too. That Andres looked. Lev looked. That people. . . missed me.
A feeling loosens inside my chest, something warm and fragile. Relief. I thought I was alone. I thought no one cared enough to search.
But they did.
“Knox tried to find you too,” she goes on, pulling back slightly, her face blotched with emotion. “But it was like you disappeared completely. Like the earth swallowed you whole.”
My brow lifts despite everything. “Knox?” They had split before everything happened.
“Yes.” She sighs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I think we’re back together now.” She brushes past it quickly, not ready to explain.
“I even contacted the police,” she continues, her voice sharpening. “But they couldn’t find anything. They said maybe you left by choice. . . like your mother.” Her eyes blaze. “Can you believe that? Those idiots didn’t even try, Serena. They didn’t even try.”
My heart folds in on itself. For her. For me. For everything I lost and everything I regained tonight.
“I’m here now,” I whisper, though the words feel paper-thin.
Sienna exhales shakily. “He found you, didn’t he?”
She doesn’t say his name. She doesn’t have to.
I nod.
“I gave him hell, believe me,” she says, brushing a curl behind her ear.
“But when I saw that even he was breaking trying to find you, I. . . I almost lost hope.” Her voice cracks again.
“Serena, I thought something truly terrible happened. I thought if Lorenzo couldn’t find you, then nobody could. Even Knox hit dead ends.”
Her faith in him warms something deep under my ribs, something I don’t want warmed. I cannot imagine the weight Lorenzo must have carried. The responsibility. The guilt. His desperation.
I shove the thought away.
I remind myself: I hate him.
“Tell me everything,” Sienna says softly, her gaze drifting down to my stomach.
“I didn’t know I was pregnant,” I whisper, guilt slamming into me all at once. “After the funeral. . . I went straight to Ibiza. I didn’t think. I just wanted everything to stop.” The memory burns behind my eyelids. The sight of Lorenzo at the funeral. How it ripped me apart.
“I drank so much, Sienna. So much I barely knew my own name. I took drugs from strangers, I didn’t care about anything. And I was pregnant.” The word fractures inside my chest. “Pregnant. And I didn’t know.”
“Serena. . . you didn’t know. Don’t torture yourself with this,” she whispers, brushing my arm.
“I know,” I cry, “but I keep thinking about how stupid I was. Leaving the country alone. Drinking everything in sight. Taking drugs. And that led to me being kidnapped for three months.”
“You know it’s not your fault you were kidnapped, right?” Sienna asks gently.
“I know,” I breathe shakily, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I could have prevented it.”
“You couldn’t,” she insists firmly. “Serena, if they wanted you, they would have taken you no matter where you were.”
She lets the silence settle before speaking again. “Do you want to talk about it? Do you know who they are?”
“I don’t remember much,” I admit, grateful for the gaps in my memory. “I know who was behind it.” But I refuse to say his name in this context. I will not give Luciano the satisfaction, even in conversation.
“Someone who wanted revenge on Lorenzo?” she asks.
I nod.
“Is he the father?”
“Who else?” I whisper.
The next question breaks something inside me.
“What happened between you two?”
The tears come hard and violent. All the memories, the dreams we had, the future I saw for us, shattered with one choice he made.
“We could have had everything together,” I sob, the words ripping out of me. “We could have raised the babies together. We could have been a real family.” My voice collapses on itself. “But he had to ruin everything.”
She looks at me confused. “He had to kill my father.”
Sienna’s expression shifts instantly, her brows drawing together, all softness draining from her face. “Why?” she asks, voice steady in a way that makes my chest tighten. “I assumed he did it, but hearing you say it out loud. . . it doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, wiping the hot tears that won’t stop coming.
“And I don’t even want to know. Whatever explanation he gives won’t fix anything.
It won’t change what he did.” A heavy ache pulls at my stomach.
I think of Luciano’s proposal. I think of Lorenzo standing in that office being threatened to marry someone else.
Rage simmers beneath my ribs, tangled with heartbreak and exhaustion.
“And if we needed another reason why we can’t be together, well. . . he might be getting married.”
Sienna blinks. “What? Married? To who? And why?” She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “There is no way in hell he would do that willingly. The man was feral when you disappeared. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months.”
“Some mafia princess,” I choke out, my voice cracking around the sob. “That’s why they kidnapped me. To force him to marry her.”
“Is he going to do it?” she asks quietly, pulling me into her arms again.
The question breaks me. I nod, my tears soaking her shoulder.
The thought of him with someone else makes my stomach twist violently.
I don’t want him. I don’t want to want him.
But I cannot bear the thought of his hands on another woman, of another woman sharing his bed, his life, his mornings, his name.
And worst of all, the idea that my babies would not be allowed to speak his name in public.
That their father would belong to someone else.
“I’m afraid he will,” I admit, my chest shaking. “To protect us.”
“Wait.” Sienna pulls back slightly. “You said babies.” Her eyes widen. “Plural.”
I nod, a broken smile trembling on my lips. “I have twins.”
“Serena.” Her gasp turns into a squeal and she crushes me in a hug. “Congratulations, my love! Twins! I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt!” She kisses my cheek and for a second, I let myself lean into her joy.
But the pain returns quickly, like a tide swallowing the shore.
“Thank you,” I whisper, though the tear sliding down my cheek betrays how I really feel.
“Everything will be okay,” Sienna whispers, smoothing my hair.
“You don’t know that,” I tell her, unable to stop the tremble in my voice.
“What if he marries her? How am I supposed to live watching the man I love, the father of my children, with another woman? What if he has another family? What if she gets everything I. . .” My voice collapses again.
“I can’t do that, Sienna. I can’t watch that. ”
“I thought you hated him,” she says softly.
“I do.” The lie tastes bitter. Because I don’t. I wish I did. It would make everything easier. It would make the future bearable. But as soon as the words leave my lips, we both know the truth underneath them.
I am about to fall apart completely when a familiar voice sweeps into the room like warm sunlight cutting through storm clouds.
“My beautiful girl.”
Bianca stands in the doorway, her thick Italian accent wrapping around me like a blanket. Thank God I grabbed Sienna’s cardigan, because my cheeks heat remembering the state I was in earlier. Still, when I see Bianca’s kind eyes, her warm smile, something inside me unclenches.
“Bianca,” I breathe, relief flooding me as she rushes to embrace me.
She holds my face in her hands and kisses my forehead.
“I will be staying here,” she says gently, “if that is alright with you. I thought you might want company.” She brushes my hair back with motherly tenderness.
“I know my boss is not the best company,” she adds, rolling her eyes playfully, “but at least you will have me.”
She winks, and both Sienna and I burst into laughter. The first real laugh I’ve had in months.
“I heard that.” Lorenzo’s voice cuts through the room, low and irritated, and my stupid heart still stutters because he is so painfully gorgeous it feels like an insult. Bianca glares at him. I glare at him. And when I glance at Sienna, she is glaring too. At least I’m not suffering alone.
“Can you move out and bring the dogs here?” I ask, clinging to hope like an idiot. If they’re all planning to invade my house, I’d at least have Milkshake and Pancake too. I miss them more than I should admit.
“No and yes.” His answer is cold, clipped, dismissive.
. . and unfairly sexy. He stands there in a smoking jacket, curls brushing his forehead, blue eyes cut like ice and fire at the same time.
Every confident step he takes radiates power, ownership, infuriating masculinity.
His very presence needles me because all I can picture is him standing beside that mafia princess he’s supposedly meant to marry.
He notices the shift in my expression and is in my face in two long strides. My lungs tighten. I try to aim my attention at Sienna.
“Should we book the doctor appointment for today?” I ask, pretending he isn’t inches away.
He lifts my chin with his thumb, forcing my eyes into his, ignoring Sienna completely as she answers. His gaze traps me, strips me bare, makes me forget how to breathe.
“Everything alright?” he asks quietly.
I nod because speaking feels impossible.
His eyes drop to my cardigan, barely held together in front of my chest. He can see my breasts, rounder and fuller, nipples hardening under his stare.
Heat coils low in my belly when I remember what happened earlier, and without meaning to, I lick my lips. Damn pregnancy hormones.
“Don’t go outside like that. My male staff are there.” His grip tightens on my chin. The room is empty now, Bianca is unpacking, Sienna disappeared. It’s just him. And me. And the tension suffocating the air.
“Why not? A girl has her needs.” I tease, even though my voice isn’t steady.
“Trust me, baby, I can handle every one of your needs.” His hand cups my pussy through the cardigan and I gasp, my body betraying me instantly.
“I don’t think that’s the case anymore,” I manage, breathless. “I won’t fuck a married man. Even if I hate him.”
His expression darkens, beautifully, dangerously, and before I can blink, his finger is inside me. My moan rips out of me, loud and humiliating.
“I think both of us are aware that,” he murmurs, sliding another finger in, “only I can satisfy your needs.” His other hand holds me still, controlling every inch of me as he builds a rhythm that steals every thought from my mind.
“Oh,” I cry out. Shame and need twist inside me. I’m such a slut for him.
“I won’t marry her, you know that, baby.” His voice sinks into my bones. “My cock refuses any acquaintance with another pussy. Your pussy is everything for him.” A third finger enters and I forget what world I live in.
“Lorenzo,” I moan, “we can’t keep doing this.”
But my body is already begging for the opposite. Every time I see him, I want him to ruin me all over again.
He ignores my words. He pushes the cardigan aside, mouth closing around my nipple. My knees nearly buckle. I cling to him like I’ll fall apart.
“Shut up, love.” He bites down, pleasure slicing through me. “Do you want me to marry her?” His fingers thrust deeper and I swear I see stars.
“I don’t care,” I gasp, because words don’t even form properly anymore.
“You don’t, huh?” His gaze drags over me like a vow. “Then let me educate you.” He lifts me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing, and lays me open on the table.
Then he drops to his knees.
My entire soul short-circuits.
He lowers his tie, spreads me apart, and kisses the inside of my thighs. I’m trembling so hard I can’t stop. Anyone in the house can hear me, and still I can’t quiet myself.
“Do you want me to give her the attention you’re begging for?” he teases before licking me, slow, deliberate, devastating. A broken moan tears out of me and I grip his hair, desperate.
“Tell me, baby.” He bites and sucks my clit until my eyes roll back. “Do you want me to fuck her with the pieces of me that only you ever get?” His fingers slide back inside me, two, then three, stretching me until the pressure is unbearable.
“Lorenzo!” I scream when the pleasure snaps, violent and overwhelming. I nearly black out from the intensity.
He stops only when I collapse against the table, trembling, barely able to lift my head. He licks his lips, then kisses my stomach, my breasts, before cleaning me gently with his tongue. I shiver at every touch.
“Do you want her to have this?” he asks, and jealousy stabs me so deep I can’t hide it.
“No,” I whisper.
He kisses my pussy again, slow and possessive.
“Good girl,” he whispers, almost bowing his head. “Because you’re the only one I would ever kneel for. No other woman has me the way you do.” He kisses me, tasting me on his lips, and I know I’m doomed.
“Change your clothes, baby. I’d rather avoid another funeral over you, if that’s alright.”
Then he leaves me standing there, satisfied, shaking. . . and ashamed of how much I want more.