Chapter 14 – Sienna #2
Luca shakes his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "Doesn't matter. The point is, I waited. You didn't come. End of story."
"That's not what happened," I say quietly, staring down at the man I thought just left me behind, that I cried over every night for months. I blink back tears, refusing to let the rush of emotions building up inside me take over, refusing to admit that I might have been wrong too.
"Then what happened, Sienna?" He’s on his feet now, palms planted on either side of his plate as he stares me down.
He was there. And yet, he has no idea.
"You never thought to check why I wasn’t? To find out whether I was okay?" My anger pours out now, years of wondering, of pain, rising to the surface. "At least I tried. I couldn't find you after… You moved, and your number was cut off. You didn’t even want to speak with me?"
Luca stares at me, jaw set.
"I figured you standing me up was a pretty big hint you didn't want me after all.
" He throws his arms out to the side and steps back suddenly. The chair tips back behind him with a loud crack as he points to the gun hanging on the chair beside him and then waves a hand along his body at his mafia don persona. “You didn’t want this life.”
Oh, I wanted him alright. More than anything.
"If you knew me even one bit as well as I thought you did, you'd have known none of that mattered to me. That I wouldn't have given you up without a fight." I stumble back, the fact that he never reached out as heartbreaking today as it was back then. "But you never looked back, not once."
“How fucking dare you?” He glares at me, nostrils flaring, as I face off against him, fists clenched at my sides, jaw aching from how hard I'm gritting my teeth. The longer I look at him though, the more his certainty cracks.
"Sienna, don’t fuck with me." He drags a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him. "You were really there?”
I nod.
“No. You couldn’t have been." Brows pulling together, he looks away, trying to piece together his version of the night and seeing if there's any way it could be true. "I would have known."
He looks at me, seeing the truth written all over my face, and his features twist.
"You really think I would have just abandoned you?" I whisper, my heart breaking.
When he doesn’t say anything, I toss my balled-up napkin onto the table and snatch up the untouched glass of white wine Carmella left me, intending to take it to my room. "You should have known better."
I turn to leave, needing to get away, but his hand closes around my arm before I make it two steps, spilling my wine on the marble floor.
"Don't you dare walk away from me," Luca warns.
I stare down at his hand, his long fingers wrapping around my bare upper arm, and try to pull free. "Let go."
All I succeed in doing is splashing the two of us.
The old Luca would have released me immediately. Not this one. He spins me to face him, his grip firm but not painful.
"Not until I know the truth."
If he hasn’t put the pieces together, I’m not sure it’s a good idea that I spell it out for him. Squirming, I twist and turn, but it’s pointless. He’s too strong.
"Why? It doesn't matter now,” I hiss, avoiding those intense brown eyes of his that could always see straight into my soul.
"It matters to me," he shouts. His sincerity now versus how he acted at the time, sends my frustration sky high.
It’s easy to say that now after he was so quick to cast me aside then.
"Since when?" I shove at his chest with my free hand, but it's like pushing granite. “Please just drop it.”
My pleas fall on deaf ears. Luca doesn't budge, just stands there, a wall of muscle and stubborn determination to get to the truth while blocking my escape.
"Tell me.” Luca’s fingers catch my chin, forcing me to look at him as he removes the glass from my hand and sets it down.
My resolve crumbles.
"I loved you,” I yell, the admission tearing out of me angrily before I can stop it. "I wanted to be with you. I would have given up everything for you. Everything."
Beneath Luca’s anger, I see doubt. Confusion. And suspicion. He’s remembering that night, some tiny detail, and as he studies me, always able to tell if I was telling him even a tiny lie, he takes a slow inhale.
"You're not lying," he says quietly, finally accepting that what he thought was true for all these years wasn’t. “Fuck, you’re really not lying.” He eases closer, dipping his head, lips just inches from mine, and lingers there.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” I sob.
When his eyes meet mine again, they're darker, dangerous, as he backs me against the wall, his massive body pinning me in place before whispering, “You came.”
Hot breath dusts my cheek, and he pauses, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw, just long enough for me to turn my head if I really wanted to.
I don’t.
Then his mouth is on mine.
It's not gentle. Not tentative. He kisses me like he's trying to reclaim what’s his. One hand fists in my hair, the other slides around my waist, then he hauls me against him, and with one thrust of his hips, presses me back against the wall.
“Who do you think you are?” I shove at his shoulders, furious that he thinks he can just take what he wants after all this time, but then his teeth catch my bottom lip, and a sound escapes me that has nothing to do with anger.
I hate him. I hate him for leaving, for not fighting harder, for still making me feel like this.
Clawing at his neck, I scratch his skin, but then, my fingers are curling into the soft hair at the back of his neck instead of pushing him away. And when he deepens the kiss, I let him. It feels so good. Our bodies know each other. Remember just how good we can be together.
Something hard presses against my stomach as he rocks his hips against me, and I whimper into his mouth, wetness already flooding between my thighs as I cling to him.
He breaks away first, eyes squeezed shut, his forehead pressed against mine. I can feel his heart pounding against my palms where they're pressed flat to his chest.
"Sienna…"
Before he can ask the question I know is coming, confirming what he knows deep down, I blurt it out. "Your father."
Luca keeps his eyes closed, his face twisting in pain and anger.
"He came to my door before I left to meet you. Told me if I went through with it, he'd kill me. Make it look like an accident. You'd blame yourself and never get over it."
Luca frowns. “So you didn’t come?”
I shake my head, keeping a firm grip on his shirt, needing him to understand this one thing.
"I did. I went anyway." I lift my chin, willing myself not to wilt as he glowers at me. "But when I got to the lake house, when I was just about to give up and leave, he came out… said if I didn’t leave you alone, he’d kill you instead. That he’d rather do that than have a son who’d abandon his family for a bitch like me. "
He releases me, hands falling to his sides, staring numbly as his father’s vicious words sink in. Luca doesn’t question whether they’re true. He knows what his father is.
"Fuck! He said—" Luca stops, pressing his palms against his face hard. "I'm sorry." The words are barely audible. "I didn't know."
He stalks out of the kitchen, hands on his head, leaving me alone with his kiss still burning on my lips, and not knowing whether I’ve made things better or worse.