Chapter 5 – Sienna
SIENNA
The leather seat is cold against the backs of my bare legs. Luca's jacket is wrapped around me, but I can't stop shivering.
Rebecca sits as close to me as she can, her hand hooked through my elbow as though she’s afraid the man in front is going to try and pull us apart.
Her mascara has dried in smudged tracks down her cheeks, made worse by her attempts to wipe it away, and she hasn't stopped staring at me since we got in the car.
I feel her judgement as she tries to reconcile me, her friend for the last three years, with the person sitting beside her now.
Bruno drives in silence, eyes fixed on the road ahead, pretending to give us privacy, but I’m not fooled. He’s watching closely. He might be a lawyer, but he’s still from that world. He’s probably capable of being every bit as dangerous as Luca if he needs to be.
"Sienna, I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but please explain to me how you know the mafia?" Rebecca hisses, her eyes wild as they dart to Bruno and back to me.
"I don’t know the mafia. I know Luca. From college. And it was a long time ago. I’m surprised he even recognized me."
“Luca,” she repeats, blinking at me, like I’m an idiot for thinking I can get away with a vague answer like that. “Our new boss. Son of the feared mob boss, Alfonso Calvano. But you, you just call him Luca.”
“Alleged mob boss,” Bruno corrects, lips curling into a sardonic smirk.
When I say nothing, just look at her in exasperation, Rebecca continues.
"How long ago did you know Luca?" she demands, making air quotes as she glares at me.
"Ten years. And I haven’t seen or heard from him since." I pause, struggling to get the words out. “We… dated, and we broke up.”
Except we never really broke up. Luca just never showed up one night, and that was it. He moved back to Italy without saying a word to me about it, and all attempts I made to reach out proved futile.
When I shrug, pretending it’s no big deal, when really, that signaled the beginning of the end for life as I knew it, Bruno frowns, eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
Rebecca inhales sharply, scarcely believing what she’s hearing. “Holy shit.”
Good thing I didn’t tell her the whole story.
“No. Not holy shit. He was just a normal guy back then.” But even I don’t believe that.
There was nothing normal about Luca Calvano.
She shakes her head slowly, processing. "You dated a fucking Calvano, and you never thought to mention it? I listened to you drone on and on about Will the fucking broke-ass food delivery guy when you had this in your back pocket?” Slapping my arm, she glares at me, making jokes to hide the tremor of fear underneath.
I press my lips into a thin line. "It was over. It didn't matter. And…"
The last thing I want is for anyone to know I was once involved with one of the wealthy, but a ruthless Calvano bachelor? That I was warned to keep my mouth shut and told never to speak to him again?
I don’t think any of those revelations will calm Rebecca down.
"Didn't matter?" Her whisper turns sharp. "Sienna, people got shot tonight. His fiancé might be dead. That could have been you." She looks at the back of Bruno’s head. “Are we in danger? Is he really bringing us home?”
Bruno could jump in immediately to reassure her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets the silence fill the cabin for a few long seconds, shifting in his seat. “You’re not in danger. Not with me, anyway.”
Rebecca twists to stare at me.
He made that sound very ominous.
“We’re fine. We didn’t do anything, and we didn’t see anything,” I remind her.
Nodding, she settles back against the seat once more.
"What were you thinking?" she asks quietly, not angry, but scared. For me. “Running into the kitchen instead of away… and then I find you just standing there, shooting the breeze, wearing his fucking jacket like he’s the fucking quarterback and not a…”
She cuts her rambling rant off abruptly and mouths the last word, criminal.
My fingers find the luxurious fabric of Luca’s navy jacket and pull it tighter around me. “It’s not like that.”
She leans closer, searching my face for the truth, because she knows I’m not telling her everything. "What did he want then?”
Despite every instinct to look in Bruno’s direction, I don’t. “He just wanted to know if I recognized the shooter.”
Rebecca’s eyes bug out. “And do you?”
“Of course not. He was wearing a mask.”
She blinks at me, waiting to see if there’s more, but that’s all she’s getting for now.
"Okay. If you’re sure that’s all he wanted,” she says, doubtfully, her attention lingering on his jacket.
“Believe me, that’s all.” I scoff, dropping my chin to my chest to stare at my hands.
“No. Don’t do that, Sienna.” Rebecca shakes her head, deathly serious. “The way he was looking at you? Whatever you guys had is not ancient history to that man.”
Swallowing hard, I push away the memory of his rough fingers on my hips. The reality is that our lives are now worlds apart, and there’s no going back.
“He’s marrying someone else. And he tried to get me thrown out, remember?”
Her suspicion melts away, and she sits back, allowing me some personal space again.
"He did seem pissed off when he saw you," she muses, patting my arm. "Good. Because I love you, but these people scare the shit out of me, and the sooner they’re gone, the better.” She directs the next part to Bruno, who we’ve now accepted is listening to every word. “No offense."
“None taken.”
We ride the rest of the way in silence, streetlights whizzing past the tinted windows until Rebecca's apartment building appears too soon. It’s well-lit, in a neighborhood where people can walk their dogs at night without watching over their shoulders.
She hesitates at the car door, one hand on the frame.
"Want to come up?" she asks. "You can take the couch if you don’t want to be alone."
Part of me would love to say yes, but I doubt I’m going to get much sleep. I need some time alone to process what just happened without Rebecca questioning me, searching for answers I don't have.
"Thanks, but I just want to crawl into my own bed." I gesture at the bloodstained shirt hidden beneath Luca's jacket. "After a shower." Hesitating, I catch her fingers in mine as she turns to go. “Are you okay?”
She acts tough, but she has to be rattled by what happened tonight.
"Yep, I’m good. Looking forward to soaking in the tub and going to bed. Promise you’ll call me if you need anything?"
"I will,” I say, knowing full well that I won’t.
She squeezes my hand once, then she's gone, disappearing through the glass doors into the warm lobby light.
Bruno pulls away from the curb, and I sink back into the seat, enjoying the silence. The streets grow darker as we drive, the buildings shorter, and the storefronts shabbier.
“Is this the right direction?” He knows it is. Bruno's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, taking in the shift in the neighborhood. What he’s actually asking is if I really live in this shithole.
My building looks even worse at night. The security light outside the building has been broken for weeks, and the entryway is a pocket of inky black shadow between the convenience store on one side and the laundromat on the other.
Bruno’s poker face gives nothing away as he takes in the cracked concrete steps, the graffiti on the mailboxes, and the flickering fluorescent light in the entryway.
"You're sure you'll be alright, Ms. Fox?"
"I'm sure." Now that I’m almost home, I’m itching to get inside and shut the door on the outside world.
He hands me a business card. It’s plain black with embossed white text on a thick card that screams wealth. There’s nothing on it but a name and a number. Bruno is clearly a man who doesn’t need to go hunting for new clients.
"If you need anything tonight. Anything at all."
I take it, though I have no intention of using it. He might appear nice, but if he’s working for the Calvano family, he must have a dark side to him. "Thanks for the ride."
"Goodnight, Ms. Fox."
On weak legs, I climb the stairs to the third floor, the elevator out of order, and fish my keys from my bag with trembling fingers. The lock sticks, as it always does, and I have to fiddle with it to force it open.
Closing it quickly behind me, I lean against the closed door and sigh.
The apartment is dark and quiet. Vito meows from somewhere in the kitchen, annoyed at my late return. I don't move to greet him, knowing he’ll be unmoved by my frazzled state. Instead, I cross to the window.
Bruno's black sedan is still parked on the street below, the interior light on. He sits inside, phone pressed to his ear, face turned to look up at my apartment.
He's not leaving.
So much for us not being in danger.
I let the curtain fall back into place and turn to face my home, which feels even smaller and more depressing than usual. Bleaker. The overdue rent notice still pinned to my fridge, red letters screaming FINAL WARNING, might have something to do with it.
Vito winds between my ankles, meowing pointedly at his empty food bowl.
"Yeah, yeah. I hear you."
I pour the last of the kibble into his dish and make a mental note to buy more, adding it to the list of things I can’t afford.
On the counter, my nursing textbooks sit in a neat stack, mocking me. I’m falling behind, working more than studying lately to keep up with my bills, and somehow failing spectacularly at both.
Well, with Bellini’s likely closed for the foreseeable future, I’ll have lots of time to catch up, if not anything to eat.
I stare at the framed photo on the narrow console table, my parent’s smiling faces staring right back, the picture taken on my first day of college.
They were so proud.
None of us knew how horribly wrong it was all about to go.
Before my thoughts can drag me any deeper, I continue to my bedroom, stepping out of my shoes as I go. Nothing will make me feel better tonight except sleep and a hot shower to get the dried blood off my skin.
I shrug off Luca's jacket and toss it onto the mattress, closing my eyes as the memory of Luca’s fingers sliding along the collar, thumbs skimming across my skin, has my pulse soaring again.
Suddenly, I’m transported back, and I’m standing under an awning outside my dorm, the handsome man who was a stranger just twenty minutes ago, now draping his coat over my bare shoulders, staring down at me with those warm, brown eyes.
“Wait here.”
Dressed only in a white T-shirt and jeans, he sprints back to his pick-up truck, immediately soaked by the torrential rain, and hauls my bike from the bed.
His T-shirt is practically see-through, plastered to an impressive set of abs, as he carries it back to me, a flat tire making it impossible to ride.
With a shake of his floppy brown hair, he sets it down in front of me before his gaze drops to my skinned knees.
“Shit. Are you hurt?” Scanning me from head to toe, he seems genuinely worried, but I laugh his concern off.
“Nothing but my pride.” Face planting off my bike in front of, who I now know to be the hottest man on campus, has scarred me for life. There’s no recovering from this.
“Thank you so much. Here.” I move to slide off his coat, but he shakes his head, pulling the lapels together to keep it closed.
“Keep it. You can give it back to me tomorrow.”
Confused, I smile at him, one eyebrow raised. “Tomorrow?”
He gives me a broad grin, one side of his full mouth lifting up with boyish charm as he backs away, not seeming to care that he’s getting soaked all over again by the pouring rain. “When I bring you to get your bike fixed.”
“Goddamn it, Sienna,” I mutter, yanking my fingers back like they’ve been burned just as Vito appears in the doorway, eyeing the garment with interest. "Don't even think about it."
He meows, affronted, and makes a beeline for the bed.
I scoop him up before he can get his claws on expensive fabric and deposit him in the hallway, closing the door on his indignant yowling.
When my temperamental shower sputters to life, I'm grateful the hot water heater is working tonight. Small miracles.
After turning on the taps in the bath for after, I step under the spray and scrub my arms, watching, oddly detached, as the water runs pink at my feet, Kate's blood, swirling down the drain.
The pop, pop of gunshots fills my ears, and I squeeze my eyes shut, not ready for the flashbacks that flood my mind. But as bad as the shooting was, it’s only when I recall the horror on Luca’s face when he saw me, and his attempt to have me removed from the party, that I let the tears fall.
Even if they reopen the restaurant next week, I can’t go back there.
Bellini’s was the only thing keeping me afloat. Now, it belongs to him.