Chapter 13 – Luca
LUCA
"You brought the fucking cat."
Sienna stares at me, delicate chin tilted up in defiance, making the shadows under her eyes more pronounced. She clutches the carrier in front of her like a shield, and inside it, that damn cat, orange and furious, tries to poke its claw through the wire door to get at me.
"His name is Vito. And I wasn't leaving him behind." The way she says it, like she's daring me to argue, makes it clear this isn't a negotiation. Wherever she goes, the cat goes.
I glare at Tony. This is his fucking fault.
“Fine.”
Deciding to pick my battles, I step aside and gesture for her to enter, and she walks past me without another word.
Tony follows with her single backpack, giving me a wide berth, more than aware he’s going to hear about this later.
"This way." I don't wait for her, just head for the stairs, listening to her footsteps on the marble behind me.
She doesn’t comment on the house, but I catch her reflection in the gilt mirror on the landing, lips parted, taking it all in.
"Your room." I push open the door to the largest of the guest suites. "Across the hall from mine." I point at the door opposite, making it clear that she’s in my home, under my watch.
Sienna steps inside and stops, just standing there, looking at the king-sized bed, the picture window overlooking the elegant east garden, and the luxurious en suite with a roll-top bath visible through the open door.
"I trust you’ll find it acceptable," I say, being a dick when I don’t really need to be.
"I’ll manage," she quips, trailing her fingers along the antique sideboard as she drifts further inside, examining each painting and trinket like she’s at a museum. She stops at the window, her back to me, arms wrapping around her midriff.
“I’ll let you get settled. Come downstairs as soon as you’re ready, and we’ll get started.”
When she doesn’t reply, I hesitate.
Tony messaged me earlier saying the press outside her apartment nearly sent her over the edge, and I’m still feeling a lingering trace of guilt that’s irritating me to no end.
I wouldn’t have had to do it if she’d have just come along willingly.
"Thank you," she grits out, like the words pain her, and it’s costing her dearly to utter them. "For the rent. You didn't have to do that."
“I think I did.” Clearing my throat, I add, “But you can show me your appreciation by looking at some photos."
Tony drops the bag outside the door and leaves without saying a word.
“Unpack. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”
She takes her sweet time, and I'm halfway through my second espresso when she finally appears, the cat at her heels like a haughty ginger shadow.
Carmella looks from Sienna to the cat to me, surprised I’m not throwing a fit.
Intrigued by the newcomers, she begins fussing, pulling out a stool at the island for Sienna and reaching for plates. My housekeeper has worked for me for five years now, since I permanently moved back from Italy, and I've never seen her move this fast for anyone, including me.
"Sit, sit. You must be hungry. I'll make you a plate."
Sienna hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "I'm fine, really. I just need to feed Vito." She holds out a small square tin.
Carmella makes a face, taking it from Sienna’s fingers before crouching down to eye level with the ignorant furball. "I have chicken. Fresh this morning.”
The fleabag, clearly knowing a soft touch when he sees one, suddenly turns on the charm and sidles up to Carmella, rubbing against her, purring loudly as he allows her to stroke his back.
Carmella fawns over him before standing and patting Sienna’s arm as she gently shoves her into a chair before Sienna realizes what’s going on.
“Don’t worry, the cat will eat like a king."
Sienna looks at me, brows drawn together. If she thought her cat was well taken care of before, she hasn’t seen anything yet.
“That cat is going to double in size if you don’t keep an eye on her. Carmella shows love through food,” I warn as Carmella moves to the fridge, pulling out containers.
The door swings fully open, and Sienna goes still, her eyes glistening.
Briefly, I wonder what could be wrong now, but then it dawns on me that the fridge is fully stocked. It always is. Carmella keeps it that way even though I'm rarely home to eat.
Nothing like the pitiful supplies I saw in Sienna’s when I snooped through her belongings.
Sienna stares at the pile of food Carmella places in front of her, more than she probably eats in a day.
"Eat," I say, gruffly. "I know your appetite goes when you’re stressed, but try. You're no use to me if you pass out."
Sienna shoots me a guarded look but doesn't argue.
Carmella’s head tilts subtly, telling me she noticed my slip-up, a reference to our past together.
They’ve all seen the headlines. I guess I just confirmed that it’s true.
Sienna picks up a bagel and takes a small bite, chewing slowly, every movement so achingly familiar.
Vito, meanwhile, is face-deep in a bowl of my shredded chicken, purring loud enough to be heard across the room.
Carmella is beaming at him like he's a long-lost grandchild, assuring him she will have the fanciest of litter boxes installed. He lifts his eyes long enough to give me a disdainful glare before returning to eating my fucking food.
Hearing a clatter of male voices approach, I lift Sienna’s plate and steer her toward the coffee bar, sliding in beside her and spreading a bound folder in front of her.
Our thighs brush briefly before she shuffles away, the scent of her perfume a sucker punch, catching me unaware for a second. It’s still the same.
"The photos," I mumble, pushing away a memory of it tickling my nose as I buried my head between her breasts. "Tell me if anyone looks familiar. If they’re even a maybe, mark the page, and we can try to find a better shot."
Sienna shifts from unsure to focused as she begins to flip through, deep in concentration.
"Who are these people?" She doesn’t look at me, trailing her finger over the pictures as she studies their faces.
"Associates. Business contacts. Anyone who might have a grudge."
She runs a thumb along the corner of the thick binder, one eyebrow raised. "That's a big list."
"It's a start." I shrug, and she returns to her task. Some of the pictures are of better quality than others. It’s a mix of mugshots, driver's license or passport photos, and discreetly taken images of people doing day-to-day activities.
She turns another page, then another.
I find myself watching her hands, the delicate way she brushes over each photograph, and I remember those soft hands curled around mine a lifetime ago as we walked across campus. The way they felt against my chest when she slept.
I push off from the counter and move to the coffee machine, needing the distance.
"This is so hard. I mean, I already told you, I only saw him for a split second…"
Before I can respond, footsteps sound in the hallway, and Enzo appears, stopping short when he sees Sienna at the island.
Folding my arms, I lean against the stainless-steel fridge as I wait for the coffee to be ready and ignore his beaming smile.
"Well, well. Look who it is."
Surprise flickers across Sienna’s features as she looks him up and down. "Oh my God, Enzo. You’re looking… big.”
I try to recall what Enzo looked like the last time she saw him. Probably tall and slim. He’s packed on quite a bit of muscle since then.
"That’s what they all say." He strokes his chest in mock delight before flexing his muscles, and I suddenly wish I’d locked the door. "You like what you see?”
Sienna, to her credit, rolls her eyes. “The bodybuilder look isn’t really my thing.”
Enzo laughs, low and deep. “It’s a good thing we need you, or that sharp tongue could get you in a lot of trouble.”
Sienna blinks, unsure whether that’s teasing or a chilling warning, the switch from flirting to threatening jarring her.
Carmella touches my arm gently, snapping me out of my murderous thoughts as she gestures for me to move over.
Enzo clears his throat and slides onto a stool at the island while using his fingers to pluck a slice of cheese straight off the plate Carmella sets down, earning him a slap on the hand.
“It's been a long time." His tone is soft again.
Sienna’s gaze turns to me. "Yes, it has." She’s cautious despite having gotten along with Enzo when we were together.
"Don't let him bully you. If you need anything, come find me." He jerks his thumb in my direction, but Sienna says nothing.
I glare at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing.
"That's enough," I bark. "Get out. We have work to do."
Enzo holds up his hands in surrender then picks up his plate and pushes to his feet, still grinning. "Always business with you. No time for pleasure." He winks at Sienna.
"Out," I repeat and this time, he goes, chuckling to himself.
Sienna is looking at me earnestly. "He hasn't changed."
"No. He hasn't."
The silence stretches between us as our thoughts drift back to those days. When we were madly in love, unstoppable and absurdly happy.
"I'm sorry about your parents," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them.
Her hands go still, and she turns to look at me, her eyes wide and glassy. A strand of dark hair, sleek and shiny, hangs down at the side of her face, and the irresistible urge to push it behind her ear gets the better of me.
"How do you know about that?" she whispers, staying perfectly still as I tuck it back, the gesture completely unnatural and perfectly normal to me at the same time.
For a moment, she leans slightly into my touch, eyelashes touching the pale skin of her cheeks. It gives me a glimpse of the girl I used to know, the one who trusted me with everything.
I wish I could tell her I know because I checked in, kept tabs on, or even better, secretly stayed in touch with her parents behind her back. But I didn’t.
"Nico ran a background check."
Those words dash any hope she had that I wasn’t a complete asshole. She angrily retucks the strand of hair like she's ridding herself of my touch.