Chapter 4 – Luca
LUCA
Crossing toward Sienna, the soles of my shoes scrape over broken glass. The destroyed chandelier in the background flickers red and blue, reflecting the lights outside. Half of the crystals are smashed, dangling on clear filaments, shot to shit, just like my plans to oust my father from his role.
Which is precisely why I’m not in the mood for Sienna Fox, or the inconvenient feelings of concern she’s stirring within me.
She doesn’t see me approaching, staring at nothing. She has that vacant stare I’ve seen on men after their first gun fight. Her steps falter, just as afraid of stepping into the circus of police cars, firetrucks, ambulances, and gawking bystanders as she is of staying here.
With a wince, she looks down, fingers moving to her hip, plucking at something. There’s a narrow shard of glass embedded in her skin, through her blouse. She pulls it free with a pained hiss; the crystal coming away tinged pink.
I’m in front of her, pushing her hands aside, before I know what I’m doing. “Let me see,” I insist. “There might be more.”
“It’s nothing.”
She tries to step back, but with one hand on her lower back to keep her still, I’m already pushing the bloodied fabric aside, examining the cut beneath. A thin line of red wells up against the smooth, pale skin just above her hip.
“It’s not nothing. You’re hurt.”
My fingers curl around her waist, thumb brushing just below her ribs, as I examine the cut carefully to make sure there’s no glass left, rage bubbling up inside me at the sight of her perfect skin marked by violence.
“It’s a scratch, Luca. I’ll live. I need to find my friends.” She pulls away from my hands, her arms once again curling around her midriff, and shudders as she glances around.
I let her go, though part of me doesn’t want to.
She just looks so damn fragile.
“They’re fine, Sienna. Kate and Roman were the only ones seriously hurt.”
Before I can stop myself, I’m shrugging off my suit jacket.
The cold air chills my damp shirt immediately as I drape the huge jacket around her slim shoulders, covering the soaked blouse.
She clutches the lapels immediately, pulling them closed around her chin. When she looks up at me, small and scared, I’m transported back to a time when we were closer than I’ve been with anyone, before or since, and the urge to comfort her is as natural and overpowering as it is unwelcome.
Reaching out slowly, my fingers find the collar, turning it up carefully to shield her delicate neck from the chill in the air. Lingering, I adjust it, trapped by her big, blue eyes.
My thumb moves without permission, wiping a smear of red from her cheek as tears glisten.
She stiffens, praying I won’t ask her if she’s okay. That any act of kindness right now would push her right over the edge.
“Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper.
I let myself look at her for one more second, to take in the beautiful face I once knew better than my own, allowing myself to feel a faint whisper of the joy I used to feel just from seeing her smile.
Then I shut it down.
“The assassin. The second one,” I say. “You saw him.” Not a question, a statement of fact.
The softness in her expression fades, replaced by doubt. “I... yes. I saw him for a second.”
Her hands find each other as she bites the corner of her lower lip, dipping her chin lower into my jacket.
“Did you recognize him?” Doing my best to sound nonchalant, I look away, releasing her from the pressure of my stare.
“No.” Too fast. “He was wearing a mask, remember? It was dark. I couldn’t see anything but his eyes.”
I know her tells. The tension at the corners of her mouth. The way her cheeks flush when she’s hiding something.
Sienna was always a terrible liar. And she’s lying to me right now.
“His eyes,” I press, stepping closer. “What color were they?”
That familiar line appears between her perfectly arched eyebrows as she concentrates. “Blue, I think. Pale.”
“You think,” I repeat, frustration building inside me as I stare out at the milling police officers, knowing our conversation is about to be cut short.
She steps back. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Luca.” There’s steel beneath her words. “It all happened so quickly, and I was terrified. I was trying not to stare.”
Bullshit. She was staring at the shooter right before he fled.
But Sienna doesn’t respond well to being put on the spot. If I push too hard, she’ll dig in her heels and shut down, stubborn to a fault. So instead of demanding an answer, I blow out a long breath and wait.
Sienna looks at me from under thick dark lashes, her thoughts churning, that clever brain of hers considering her options.
Just when I think she’s about to give me what I want to know, a horn blares, tires screeching as Nico pulls up with the car. The moment is gone, and with the police circling, and a man in a dark raincoat heading our way with intent, it’s clear our time is up.
“Bruno,” I bark, knowing he’s close by, handling business.
Bruno appears at my elbow immediately, immaculate in a three-piece suit, seemingly unfazed by the carnage we’ve just emerged from. “Sir.”
“Get Ms. Fox home. She’s too shaken to answer questions tonight.”
My attorney nods, already positioning himself between Sienna and the approaching detective.
“The detective won’t be pleased,” Bruno warns, always more conscious than I am of toeing the line between refusing to deal with the police at all and avoiding antagonizing them unnecessarily.
But tonight, of all nights, I’m in no mood to play politics.
“I don’t give a fuck. He can schedule through your office. Tomorrow.”
Sienna frowns and lets her hands hang by her sides, the ends of the sleeves dangling down past her fingertips.
I resist the ridiculous urge to turn them up for her.
“I can talk to them now. Honestly, I’m fine,” she insists.
She’s fine.
I grit my teeth. “You’re in shock and drenched in someone else’s blood. You’re anything but fine. Bruno will take you home. They can wait.”
Her lips purse, giving me a flash of that delicious anger I know she’s capable of. She wants to tell me to go fuck myself. I can see it.
“Please. It’s not safe to stay here…” I glance around, into the dark shadows and the crowd of faceless bystanders pressing forward, just outside the police tape fluttering in the breeze.
Without a gun, I feel exposed. The best thing for all of us is to get out of here fast.
“Take the ride home. Get a shower and some sleep. Gather your thoughts.”
Cameras flash in the periphery of my vision as more and more TV vans arrive at the scene, ready to document the carnage. This will be front-page news tomorrow.
“Fine,” she says flatly, wrapping my jacket around her slim body.
“Sienna!”
Before Bruno can guide her away, another waitress rushes over, a mass of curly dark hair bouncing around her face, mascara streaking down her cheeks. She pulls Sienna into a fierce hug before holding her out at arm’s length.
“Oh my God, are you okay? Shit. You’re bleeding—” Immediately, she waves toward some paramedics, attempting to call them over.
“Shh. Stop.” Sienna grabs her friend’s forearms and forces her to meet Sienna’s eye instead of spiraling. “Listen to me, Bec, it’s not mine.”
The friend, who gives me a wide-eyed once-over, clocks Sienna wearing my jacket, and this seems to send her deeper into a panic.
“Sienna, oh my God, what the hell just happened?”
That’s my cue to leave.
“Take her friend too,” I say. “Make sure they both get home safely.”
Bruno glances at me over her head, eyebrows raised. He knows there’s more to this than chivalry, much more. I wouldn’t be standing here, instead of at Kate’s hospital bedside where I should be, if there wasn’t.
The horn blares again.
“Let’s go.” Nico’s getting impatient. We’re probably on the verge of getting pulled in for an interview by the cops if we hang around much longer. God knows how much money he had to pay someone to get his car out of, what is very obviously now, a crime scene.
“Go, I’ll take care of them,” Bruno says.
With a tip of his head, my attorney gently steers my ex toward his vehicle that’s parked along the curb, shielding them from the detective’s irritated glare. Before the man can say anything, Bruno heads him off.
“These ladies are in shock, Detective. And need to be checked over. They’re innocent bystanders and will provide statements in due course.”
Both the furious detective and I stand here and watch Sienna walk away.
She doesn’t look back.
Bruno hands over a business card and turns to follow her.
“Bruno?”
He pauses, hanging back, until Sienna is definitely out of earshot.
“She doesn’t talk to anyone tonight. No visitors. No other stops.”
Bruno nods, his intelligent eyes shining behind dark-rimmed glasses. “Understood.”
Satisfied he’ll ensure she’s locked down, I’m moving, pushing through the chaos to where Nico’s waiting with the engine running, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as I slide into the passenger seat.
Nico pulls out, tires spinning on the wet pavement, not needing to ask where we’re going.
The city blurs past the window, but I’m not really paying attention. The only thing consuming my thoughts is how someone dared to come onto my property, ruin what should have been a celebration, and attempted to kill all that’s important to me.
My family. My friends. And my reputation.
Who has the balls to try something like this knowing the wrath they will face? I might be the Don’s son but taking over as head of the families isn’t guaranteed by lineage. Only the most ruthless lead.
And an insult like this can’t be allowed to stand.
Rage festers inside me as the magnitude of this disrespect sinks in. Someone is going to pay with their life for this grave offense. I’m going to enjoy making an example of them, one that will remind anyone who’s forgotten why so many fear me.
“Cazzo,” I snap, pounding the dashboard hard with my fists, allowing myself a moment of uncontrolled fury, before I slip back into the role of future heir to the Calvano family business and soon-to-be Don.
Or at least, I was the soon-to-be Don.
My wedding to Kate was meant to satisfy both my father’s demand that I be married before I take over, as well as the pressing need to secure a truce with the Irish after years of bitter and bloody rivalry.
Now, my carefully laid plans lie in tatters.
“We’ll get them,” Nico states calmly, my outburst not affecting him in the slightest. He understands the gravity of the situation and what’s at stake.
My brother shifts in his seat, uncomfortable about broaching the next topic. “And what about… her? You think it was a coincidence she was there?”
Even after all this time, he’s afraid to speak Sienna’s name. For years, nobody dared utter it in front of me. To suggest she could somehow be part of this? I don’t blame him for being on edge.
“I want to know everything. Where she lives, where she works, what she’s been doing for the past ten years.”
Nico nods, not calling me out for ignoring his suggestion that she was there tonight for a reason, not when everything we’ve worked for is lying in ruins.
“Consider it done.”