CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SIENNA
I opened my eyes once we finally arrived at Eve and Enzo’s place. Enzo got out first, coming around to open Eve’s door. But she did so before he could, shoving it outward with enough force to make him step back.
“I can open my own damn door,” she muttered, before slamming the door hard.
Enzo looked furious as hell. For a second, I thought he might explode, might let out the anger that was clearly boiling just beneath the surface. Instead, he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort of controlling himself.
Ignoring him, Eve came over to my side of the car and opened the door. Her expression softened as she stared at me, the bruise on her forehead darker now, more pronounced against her skin.
“You good?” she asked, concerned for me despite her own situation.
I forced a smile. “Yeah.”
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but what else could I say? That I was falling apart? That I was terrified my relationship was crumbling before my eyes? She didn’t look convinced by my lie. Of course, she didn’t. Eve knew me better than anyone.
“Text me when you get home,” she said, her eyes flicking briefly to Stefano before returning to me.
“I will. Get some rest and clean those wounds. Be careful undressing. Don’t let that glass cut you,” I told her, staring at the fine pieces of glass still clinging to her clothing.
“Same to you,” she said, then leaned close to whisper in my ear. “They’re just mad. We were at fault for what happened. So... go easy on him,” she whispered before leaning back and smiling at me. “Love you, girl,” she said, her eyes saying a thousand things her mouth couldn’t.
“Love you more,” I told her as Enzo closed my door.
He then placed his hand on her back and guided her to their house, as if he thought she’d run away if he didn’t personally steer her home. Stefano waited until they’d made it inside before leaving.
With them gone, the silence that stretched between us was somehow worse. The rest of the drive felt longer than it should’ve. Stefano didn’t say a word. I turned slightly in my seat, glancing over at him.
His eyes remained on the road. His hands were still gripping the wheel tightly. I swallowed, wondering if I should be the one who broke the silence. As Eve said, we were the ones at fault. We had caused this rift. Maybe it was up to me to build the first bridge across it.
“Stefano...” I started, hoping he’d look my way and give me a sign that he was willing to talk.
He didn’t. His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. Okay, maybe he hadn’t heard me.
“Stefano,” I repeated, louder this time, making sure he heard me.
That motherfucker completely ignored me. It was like I wasn’t even there. Like I was a ghost in the passenger seat, invisible and unheard. Fine. If he didn’t want to talk, I wouldn't force him to.
Fuck a conversation.
I glared out the window, my feelings hurt, but refusing to acknowledge it. I wasn’t about to beg for his attention. I’d never begged for anything in my life, and I wasn’t about to start now.
That didn’t stop errant thoughts from creeping in, gnawing at the edges of my anger. I shouldn’t have ditched my security detail. I should’ve brought my concerns about the car to Stefano. I knew better.
His anger was warranted, but we’d already decided that his going all silent mode on me wasn’t the way to handle things. Plus, he was covered in blood, so it wasn’t like he’d been out in the world, being a saint.
We’d been on the same savage shit. So, why was I the one feeling guilty? Why was I the one getting the silent treatment? I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes for a second, hating this up-and-down rollercoaster of emotions we were on lately.
I wanted off this ride. But I was afraid that once I got off, he wouldn’t be standing beside me any longer. That thought made my stomach twist. What would I do without him? Without us?
I’d survived on my own before, lived a life without him. But now? Now the thought of going back to that solitary existence made my heart ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. When had I become so dependent on his presence?
When had his love become as necessary to me as breathing? And what would it take to get us back to where we were before all this happened? Could we go back to the way we were before? Or was the way we were before just the honeymoon phase?
By the time we pulled into our driveway, I was a bundle of nerves, my thoughts chaotic as hell. My head was pounding, my heart battered, and Stefano still hadn’t said one word to me.
I never imagined I’d miss his voice this much, the same voice that sometimes drove me crazy with its demands and protective warnings. Now, I would’ve given anything to hear him say something, anything, even if it was to tell me how foolish I’d been.
Needless to say, I hated the silent treatment. It made me feel alone, like I was back in that dark room Maureen often placed me in when I was younger. She’d done it to punish me, and it worked.
He turned off the engine and got out without looking at me. My heart sank a little as I watched him walk around the front of the car to my side. Even furious, he still opened my door. I stepped out, wincing as my sore body protested the movement.
Stefano unlocked the front door and held it open for me, his eyes focused somewhere above my head. Once I was inside the house, he followed, closing the door behind us. He moved to the security panel, entered the code, and turned the alarm off.
He waited a second, then rearmed the house. I stood in the middle of the living room, watching him, waiting. We needed to talk. The longer we let this simmer, the worse it would get. I’d seen enough festering wounds to know that some things needed to be lanced before the infection spreads.
Before it entered the bloodstream. Before sepsis set in. In a relationship, once a heart turned cold, it was hard as hell to melt. But instead of facing me, Stefano turned and started walking out of the room, his back straight, shoulders rigid.
“Stefano, can we talk?” I called out, willing to be the bigger person… again.
He stopped but didn’t turn around.
“What is there to talk about? You’re a grown ass woman and can do whatever you want,” he said, throwing my words from earlier back at me.
I would not get angry. I would not be petty. I would let that shit slide. I took a deep breath, held it for a second, then released it slowly.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” I admitted.
“You shouldn’t have said it at all,” he countered.
“No, I should’ve phrased it better,” I told him, trying to keep my voice calm. “But the truth is that I’m grown, Stefano. I can make my own decisions.”
That finally got him to turn. His dark eyes landed on me, still angry, still distant.
“I need you to make smarter decisions, Sienna,” he snapped.
I flinched but forced myself to hold his gaze. I could accept that criticism. I had been reckless today.
“How could you be so foolish?” he continued, taking a step toward me.
Okay. I could let that slide, too. But he was pushing it. I would try to be more understanding. He was upset. I opened my mouth to respond, to offer some kind of explanation and another apology, but he wasn’t done.
“You ditched your security team. The people who are meant to keep you safe and keep me updated on all your movements.”
“I know. I apologize, and...” I paused, my apology dying on my lips as his words fully registered. “Wait. What do you mean, they keep you updated on all my movements?”
“Exactly what I said,” he told me.
Heat flared in my chest, anger quickly replacing any guilt I’d been feeling.
“Oh, so they tell you about my every move?”
“They’re your shadows. Of course they do.” His tone suggested I was an idiot for not already knowing this.
“So, you have me under surveillance, just like this Daniel Abeli does?” I asked, my voice rising despite my previous desire to stay calm.
“Don’t do that. You know it’s not the same thing.”
“How is it different, Stefano?” I yelled.
My hands were shaking. I balled them into fists at my sides.
“It’s different because you’re mine and I need to know where you are and what you’re doing every moment of every day.
” His voice rose to match mine. “See what happens when I don’t know where you are and what you’re doing,” he added, his gaze roaming over me, taking in my disheveled appearance, the cuts, the bruises.
I let out a harsh laugh. “You’re one to talk. You’re covered in blood, Stefano.” I gestured at his shirt, still stained with the evidence of whatever violence he’d committed today. “You’re no different from me. We were on the same savage shit today. So why are you so mad at me?”
“Because you’re not a savage,” he yelled. “You weren’t doing savage shit. You were doing reckless shit. Unnecessary shit.”
He stepped closer until he was towering over me.
“I was getting answers,” I countered, tilting my head to maintain eye contact, refusing to be intimidated by his height or his anger.
“You could’ve been killed,” he growled.
“I wasn’t.”
“That’s not the point,” he forced through clenched teeth.
“It is the point,” I fired back, poking him in the chest with my finger. “I’m standing right here. I’m fine. Just as you’re fine. I can handle my own, just as you can handle your own. And if you ever tell me I’m not a savage again, we’re going to have a real problem, Stefano Deluca.”
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might walk away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my face when he spoke.
“We’ve already got a problem, Sienna Keys.”
The words hung between us like a physical barrier, impossible to ignore or push aside. I stared up at him, searching his face for any hint of the man who’d held me like I was precious just this morning, who’d whispered how much he loved me before I left for cooking class.
That man was nowhere to be found. In his place stood a stranger with my Beast’s face, cold, distant, and furious. Part of me wanted to reach out, to touch him, to bridge this growing gap between us before it became too wide to cross.
Pride kept my hands at my sides, my feet rooted to the floor. I wouldn’t beg. I wouldn’t plead. I’d spent too many years fighting for my independence, for my right to exist on my own terms, to throw it all away now, even for him. Even for us.
Silence stretched between us again, carrying all the things we weren’t saying. We stood there, glaring at each other, both of us breathing hard like we’d just finished sparring in the gym.
But this wasn’t a workout. It was our relationship fracturing right before my eyes, and I didn’t know how to stop it. Stefano was the one to break the silence. When he did, his words hit harder than any physical blow ever could.
“You don’t need to show up at Tower D on Monday. You’ve been fired,” he told me, tone harsh.
My eyes widened as the words registered.
“What?” I whispered, suddenly feeling like the floor had disappeared from beneath my feet.
“You’ve been fired, Sienna. There’s no need for you to leave the house again until all threats have been wiped out. Stay home. Rest. Heal and…”
I raised my hand, cutting him off. The shock was quickly giving way to a burning hot anger.
“You can’t fire me, Stefano.”
“It’s already done,” he countered.
And just like that, he’d taken away the one thing that made me feel like I was independent here in Italy, considering everything around me, the house, the car, the clothes, belonged to him or were given to me by him.
Tower D had been my source of income, allowing me to use my skills in a legal and lasting way. It was the one place where I could contribute to Stefano’s life in a positive manner, where I could be useful beyond warming his bed and looking pretty on his arm.
Working there made me feel like I was really building a life here with him, not just playing house. It gave me a sense of normalcy that I needed, that we both needed. Or so I’d thought.
“Stay home for a while,” he said again.
“I’m not someone you have to lock away to keep safe,” I rasped, fighting to keep my voice from breaking. “I’m not some delicate treasure that needs to be kept behind glass.”
Stefano let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. The familiar gesture, one I usually found endearing, only fueled my anger now. He was trying to keep his temper in check, but so was I, and I was losing that battle fast.
“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he said, repeating the excuse I was so damn tired of hearing.
“From the look of things, you can barely keep yourself alive, Stefano.” I gestured at his blood-soaked clothing. “Annnd…” I added. “If you’re trying to keep me alive, why didn’t you know we were being watched by Daniel Abeli before today?”
He flinched as if I’d struck him, and part of me, the cruel, wounded part, was glad. Good. Let him feel a fraction of the pain I was experiencing right now.
“You can’t fire me from Tower D,” I told him, my chin lifting in defiance. “And you can’t keep me locked in this house.”
“Watch me,” he replied, his tone cold as ice.
My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms.
“Okay. And you watch me. I guess we’ll see which of us is the real savage.”
“You do not want to test me, Sienna.” There was a warning in his voice, but I was beyond caring.
“Fuck you and your tests, Stefano,” I yelled, feeling myself teetering on the edge of saying something so cutting, so vicious that we’d never recover from it.
I swallowed those hateful words down, recognizing the danger. My mouth was disrespectful as hell when I was angry, and I didn’t want him to get a taste of it. Not when there might still be something left of us to salvage when the dust settled.
“I’m taking a shower and going to bed,” I told him, needing to end this conversation before it ended us. I turned toward the hall, then paused. “I’ll sleep in the guest room for the next few days.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the guest room,” he countered.
“There’s more than one fucking guest room in your house,” I spat.
“My house?”
“Yeah, your house. All of this shit belongs to you. It’s yours.
” I waved my hand, gesturing at the expensive furnishings, the artwork, the life he’d built that I was just a visitor to.
“Since I’m your guest. I’ll stay in the guest room.
I’m done talking,” I said, turning to walk away before he could respond.
I was done listening to Stefano Deluca’s bullshit.