Chapter 14
Romeo Yovanni
My mouth waters as the thick, smoky smell of bacon fills the kitchen. It’s nowhere near as pleasurable as waking with Sienna in my arms, but after how I’ve treated her the last few days, I can’t give in to temptation no matter how sweet she is.
So the answer is bacon. After yesterday’s fiasco—I was an idiot for thinking my Gran could magically cure her the same way she did Alan and me—I know even watching a dish being made isn’t enough to help Sienna feel safe enough to eat it. Fury over her admission yesterday bubbles in my blood.
The sizzling of bacon doesn’t carry nearly as far as I’d like, and I dare say mia bambolina’s stomach growled louder, but the sound of my knife hitting the chopping board reaches the bedroom without issue.
Sienna stumbles out with the top blanket wrapped around her.
“Your new clothes are hanging in the closet. Hurry before the bacon burns,” I instruct.
She blinks and nods, still half asleep, before shuffling into the bathroom.
When she emerges less than five minutes later in a flowy top and tight blue jeans, my cock hardens in my sweats. With no underwear to hide my reaction, I grit my teeth and focus on not slicing my finger off.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Cooking breakfast and you’re helping. Start with coffee,” I demand.
She quirks a brow.
“This isn’t a normal kidnapping activity,” she mumbles.
Realizing she decided to default back to as though yesterday didn’t happen at all, I drop my knife and pin her hips against the counter with mine.
“It is if I’m your kidnapper. Make the coffee. I like mine the same way you do,” I snarl into her ear.
Her pulse pounds along the slender column of her neck. The bruise spanning out from under the bandages worries me.
“I don’t believe you,” she says.
“You don’t believe what?” I ask.
“That you like the same coffee I do,” she clarifies.
“Humor me. I’m feeling adventurous,” I growl with a sensual nip to her ear.
She gasps before muttering, “Fine. Whatever you say, boss.”
I spear both hands into her hair to ensure I have her full attention.
“I’m not your boss, bambolina. I’m your captor, tormentor, savior, and lover, but never your boss. Capisci?”
Her breath hitches, and a blush rises up from her chest.
“Fine. Whatever you say, lover.”
Relief pours through me even though she heaps sarcasm into the word. She chose the best answer. The right answer. I suck her earlobe into my mouth and flick my tongue over the sensitive flesh before releasing it and nipping her jaw.
“Mio Dio, you’re perfect,” I whisper against her flesh.
She stiffens. I pull back and meet her eyes.
“Is this really happening right now or am I dreaming?” she asks.
“Does this seem real or fake to you?” I ask.
She opens her mouth to respond, and I swoop in with all the hunger pulsing in my veins.
Her low groan as I force myself to gentle the kiss into a playful battle of tongues nearly undoes my control, but the bacon pops and grease lands on my arm.
I grab Sienna’s hips and swing her out of the line of fire.
“Coffee. Now,” I say with a mild swat to her ass.
She yelps and rubs her backside on her way to the coffee machine. Once she presses the button to start the brewing, I take a note from Gran’s book of skills and recruit her for another task and another until the meal is ready.
When she washes the mugs even though they were clean in the cupboard, I follow her lead and wash all the plates and utensils we plan to use in water so hot and soapy my hands hurt.
She watches me out of the corner of her eye as she pours two cups of coffee.
I wrap the utensils in paper towels and serve two plates.
Despite the hunger in her stare, her fidgeting becomes more pronounced with every second that passes. I take my fork out of my paper towel bundle and eat a bite of each item from one plate, then do the same on the second plate.
Sienna blinks up at me. Tears glisten in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. With shaky hands, she sets down the mugs, takes my fork and the plate closest to her, and settles at the table.
I sit across from her and bask in relief, triumph, and pride as she eats over half the food on the plate without issue. When she sets her fork—my fork—down, I smile and continue eating as though this was just another day, despite my urge to celebrate.
She rises and brings the coffee over.
I stare down at the watery mess and lift a brow.
“Adventurous, remember?” she chuckles as she sits back in her seat.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Very, very weak coffee. Dehydrated mess over here, remember? Caffeine makes me jittery,” she says with a shrug.
I nod but can’t force myself to take a swig. She laughs and shakes her head.
“You won’t offend me by not drinking it. I can brew another batch. Do you want to finish what’s on my plate?”
I set down my mug and adjust my throbbing cock.
“I can think of way better things to finish,” I mumble.
More blood rushes to my cock as she blushes.
“Coffee,” she says with an embarrassed nod.
She grabs the edge of the table as though to stand but I reach across and cover the back of her hand with mine. I wait until she meets my eyes to speak.
“I’m sorry for not protecting you yesterday, bambolina. I was wrong to put you in that position,” I apologize.
She swallows hard before responding in a forced, bright tone.
“It’s okay. I can understand why you let it happen. Your Gran is a force of nature. I want to be her when I grow up.”
She stands and winces. All the color drains from her face.
I catch her before she falls. She wraps an arm around her midsection.
“Sorry, I think it’s just because I ate so much at once. I’ve eaten more in the last two days than I have in weeks,” she breathes.
“Are you still bleeding?” I ask.
She shakes her head and asks, “Can I just go back to sleep?”
I lift her off her feet, careful to avoid sudden movements, and settle her between the sheets with a bottle of water and the trash can nearby in case she needs it.
“I’m going to shower. I won’t be long,” I say.
She nods and closes her eyes. I brush her hair back from her face and wonder how I could have ever planned to ruin such a resilient woman. She won me over before I even had a chance to guard my heart.
My need for revenge shifts. Her stepmother must die.
After standing by the bed for a few minutes, I turn, walk into the bathroom, and shut the door.
Twenty-five minutes later, I emerge clean and wearing a fresh suit with the simple ring in my pocket and not much else.
With my wallet on the kitchen counter and my pistols locked in a drawer in the closet away from my supposed captive, I feel ridiculously light until my eyes fall on the mattress.
Sienna isn’t in the bed. My heart leaps into my throat. I duck under the desk and sweep aside the curtains but find no trace of her.
I was a fool to believe any of what she said. I should have clung to her and demanded she be by my side at all times. She was always planning to run the first chance she could. That’s what captives do.
I check the room one more time in a flurry of leashed violence.
She’s gone. She’s really gone. I count the cards in my wallet and confirm all except the one I gave her are present, but I can’t find my phone anywhere.
After poking my head out into the hall and seeing no one, I use the hotel line to call the front desk and ask them if they’ve seen anyone matching her description.
The woman says no. I then call the security office and tell them to see where the woman who left my room a few minutes ago went.
Then I call Alan. His number hasn’t changed in over a decade, but I would remember a new phone number every week if he decided to change that often.
He answers without fanfare, unfamiliar with the exact number but aware it’s from the hotel. After a moment of tense silence, he pulls up the location of my phone within seconds since it’s currently active with an outgoing call.
A call to Mario Luciano.
Fuck.
“Where is she?” I demand.
“The dining terrace beside the restaurant,” he snarls.
“Keep tracking her. I’m heading down,” I snarl before slamming down the receiver and stomping out of the room.
The elevator is too slow, so I take the stairs three at a time.
Everyone with even a lick of sense moves out of my way the moment they see my face. I will gladly flatten anyone who doesn’t.
When I stride out onto the terrace, Sienna stands with the phone away from her ear and her smile beaming up at a man I’ve never seen before.
She sees me coming. Her smile falls and her pupils shrink.
I don’t give her a chance to make an excuse. I yank her flush against me and devour her mouth. When I lift my head, the other man has already retreated back into the hotel.
“You’re mine, bambolina, and I don’t share. If anyone touches you without my permission, I’ll kill them,” I snarl.
Her dazed eyes and discombobulated response fill me with masculine pride.
“Okay. Um. So… are you still there, Zio Mario?”
I curse and yank the phone out of her hand.
“No, wait! I—”
“I’ve heard enough,” Mario’s gravelly voice comes through the speaker.
My hackles rise.
“You can’t have her, Mario,” I hiss.
Sienna sighs and grabs my tie.
“I wasn’t trying to—”
I wrap my fist around her throat and push her up against the hedge.
“You snuck out of the room,” I accuse.
“You said the entire hotel was safe! You said no one would dare step a toe out of line. I’m from California. I like the sun. I didn’t run, I just… wandered.”
The genuine exasperation in her voice finally breaks through my mania, but her choices piss me the hell off.
“So why are you on the phone with Mario Luciano?” I spit the name like a curse.
“I…” she huffs. “I don’t know. My stomach was hurting so I got up to see if walking would help, it did, so I wrote you a note letting you know I took your phone so you could call me, and then it rang while that guy wouldn’t leave me alone, and I thought it was you, so I answered it.
Except it wasn’t you, it was mio zio, but you were suddenly right there and—”
I lean down and pour my relief into her soft, warm mouth. She melts and rises onto tiptoes to reach around my nape.
Need rises so swiftly my head spins. I curse my overeager cock and murmur in her ear.
“Let’s go back to our room, yeah?”
She nods.
When I turn, the man she couldn’t get rid of peeks out around the open door with a phone blocking his lips, but by the way his mouth moves, he’s speaking.
Not English. Not quite Spanish either.
Premonition settles in my gut.
I realize my folly and pull Sienna tighter against me. We’re in the back corner of the terrace where the early morning sun bouncing off the pavement blinds the cameras. There are also several breaks in the hedges for maintenance and access to electrical units.
The sound of a pistol racking and a round entering the firing chamber echoes through the air. I mash the speaker button and turn down the phone’s volume as José and several of his men creep out from the bushes and surround us.
Sienna trembles from head to toe. I lean down and murmur against her temple.
“No one but me, bambolina. No one. Capisci?”
She fists the back of my suit.
“No one but you,” she whispers.
Sienna Luciano is mine. All mine. Mine to torment, heal, worship, protect, and love.
Love. I love her.
I, Romeo Yovanni, love Sienna Luciano, the niece of the man I swore vengeance against.
She stole her way into my jaded heart and ruined me in ways I never could have ruined her.
I need her.
I’ll protect her no matter what it takes, even if it means losing my life. Nothing is more important than mia bambolina.
She’s mine. All mine. Only mine.
Forever.