Chapter 17 – Sienna
SIENNA
Iwake up slowly, drifting through layers of warmth and softness, and for a moment, I don't remember where I am. I’m transported back to my cozy apartment off-campus, a lazy Sunday morning, as the warmth and heady masculine scent of the man I love brings a smile to my face.
Practically purring, I snuggle back further into him, the weight of an arm across my waist tightening around me and pulling me closer. Solid heat of a body pressed against my back. The slow, steady rhythm of breathing that isn't mine. It all feels so good, too good, in fact.
As reality disturbs the memory, I realize this isn’t ten years ago, that we’re not still madly in love, and we couldn’t be further from our carefree college life, I cling onto that alternate reality. The sliding door version of what could have been if things had gone differently.
Luca.
I keep my eyes closed, buying myself time to think. To remember.
"I know you're awake." His voice is thick with sleep, lips brushing against my ear.
A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with cold as his fingers curl into my flesh and prevent me from moving even an inch away from him.
I open them.
Weak morning light floods the room. The sheets beneath me are impossibly smooth, the mattress cradling my body like a cloud. I've never slept on anything this comfortable in my life.
Slowly, I turn in his arms and find him watching me.
He looks unfairly good for someone who’s barely slept.
The dark stubble that was a shadow last night now covers his jaw, thicker than before.
His rich brown hair is messy and falling across his face in a way that makes my fingers itch to push it back.
And his eyes, those chocolate eyes that used to look at me like I was the only person in the world, are studying my face with an intensity I remember well.
"How long have you been awake?" I ask, suddenly shy around the man who knows me better than anyone ever has.
"A while. Thinking." His thumb traces absent circles on my hip, just as he did last night, the touch light enough to be harmless, although it isn't. He knows exactly how ticklish I am, how sensitive that spot is, and how much I always loved it when he touched me there. "About my offer."
I attempt to pull back slightly, putting a few inches of space between us, though it’s almost impossible with his arm still locked around my waist.
"Luca, I don’t think it’s a good idea."
His expression doesn't change. "We already established that."
He’s infuriatingly unbothered and calm considering the magnitude of the decision he’s asking me to make.
I shake my head, struggling to find the words. "I'm a waitress. I don't know the first thing about being... a mafia wife. I get freaked out if I even see a gun."
With an indulgent sigh, he widens the circles he’s making with his thumb, pushing the hem of my top even higher, exposing my stomach. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. When Kate was shot, you didn’t even panic."
"Any normal person would have run screaming," I mumble.
He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me, his strong shoulders bunching and the muscles in his arms standing out, making me feel so small beside him. “Don’t do that. You did well.”
He means it, and even though I know rationally that getting praise over how I handled a shooting, from a future mafia don, isn’t something I should be excited about, it still gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.
"There's an event tonight," he says. "A gathering of the families in the region. Nothing too formal, but all of the family heads will be there. Some support me, some don’t. I need to go."
I stare at him, wondering why he feels the need to tell me this. "Of course.”
An amused smile toys at the corner of his mouth. “Kate was supposed to come.”
“Oh.” I nod, still not sure what this has to do with me. “So?"
"So, now you’re coming with me." His free hand finds mine on the pillow, fingers intertwining, and before I can object, he’s already making his case. "See my world before you decide. See if you think we could pull it off."
My panicked brain immediately scrambles for a way to back out. A mob wife? What the hell was I thinking? There’s no way. I must have been delirious with exhaustion for my frazzled brain to have even entertained the idea last night.
"Your fiancé just died, Luca. What will everyone think if you show up with another woman?"
Luca is unrepentant.
"I don't give a damn what they think. They knew it was a business arrangement." He shrugs. “Things change.”
It just seems so cold.
“But… but…” Stuttering, I’m tripping over admitting that I would care. That I don’t want to be seen as the other woman.
"They want to see that the Calvano family is stable. That I'm in control." Luca’s head tilts slightly as he stares down at me. "Kate's death has created uncertainty. Showing up with you, confident and united, sends a message to everyone that the takeover proceeds."
I try to pull my hand free, but he holds on, gentle but firm, his handsome face filling my view, and his large body leaning over mine. "And if I say no? To tonight, to all of it?"
"Then you stay here anyway, for now." His thumb strokes across my knuckles. "Our original deal still stands. Corso is bringing more pictures today. You still have to help me find the shooter, then you're free to go."
Go where, though? Back to my mountain of debt and the life that’s been turned upside down now by revelations I was once romantically involved with the wealthy and very dangerous, Luca Calvano?
I won’t get a job. Can’t afford a place to live. And without either of those, I’ll never even get through college.
“And you’ll find another stand-in wife?”
Luca is ambivalent. “Maybe, if that’s what’s required.”
A flash of jealousy that I refuse to admit is real flares inside me.
“But I would prefer it if it were you.” Luca smirks, seeming to sense my envy, but he can’t. There’s no way he could.
I need to remember he’s proposing a mutually beneficial business arrangement, not a real marriage. Not like the last time.
"What about us?" I look down at our bodies pressed together in a very unbusinesslike manner.
Luca goes still, searching my face, with a playful smile teasing his lips as he shifts ever so slightly, letting me feel just how much he’d prefer it were me.
"What do you mean, what about us?"
I glare at him. He knows exactly what I mean.
"If I agree to this... arrangement. What happens between us?"
He's quiet for a long moment then his hand releases mine, sliding, fingers splayed, from my wrist and down along my arm, stroking over my shoulder, and finally coming to rest against the curve of my neck. His thumb traces my jawline, tilting my face up toward his.
"We have chemistry," he says. "We always did."
He rolls us, not all the way, but enough that his body is half covering mine as he stretches me out before him.
I ignore his attempts to distract me. "That's not an answer."
Another casual shrug as his hand drifts from my waist and back up, this time, under my shirt.
His palm is warm against my skin, familiar and intoxicating, all at one.
The pad of his thumb brushes the swell of my breast, his fingers tickling my ribs as he strokes higher, and I gasp, arching into him.
"We could have fun while it lasts,” he teases, the vibration of his deep voice seemingly traveling straight down my body to electrify my neglected core. "Remember how much fun we used to have?"
I do remember. Vividly. That's the problem.
But I also remember how good he was at taking me apart, piece by piece, until I couldn't think straight. Until I’d do anything he wanted. Until I was completely and utterly lost to him.
It's been so long since anyone’s touched me like that, so long since I felt that desired, that it’s hard to resist falling under his powerful spell again.
"You're not answering my question," I whisper, but all the fight has gone out of me.
He's right here, looking at me like he wants to devour me whole, and I’m struggling to think why that would be so bad.
"I know,” he says. “Because you never answered mine."
My nipples are already stiff and aching, straining against the thin fabric of my bra.
He runs his thumb over one tip, teasing me, as he slides his thick thigh between my legs and lifts, pressing hard against my dripping pussy, giving me the friction I crave so badly.
“It was good, too. The best, don’t you think?” His deep timbre sends a flood of need between my thighs.
Fuck, it was the best, but I’m not admitting that.
Biting back a moan, I lift my gaze to his. “Need me to boost your ego?”
His eyes flash dangerously, and I get a giddy thrill knowing I may have just laid down a gauntlet in front of a man who’s never backed away from a challenge in his life.
With a determined look in his eye, he pulses his thigh between my legs, and I grind against it, horny and wanton, as he takes the weight of my breast in his hand and runs his thumb around and around my nipple, driving me insane with need.
“Maybe I need to remind you how much fun we could have.”
He kisses me before I can protest. Slowly, taking his time, and angling my head exactly where he wants it as he massages my breast now, harder, firmer.
I should push him away. Instead, I slide my fingers into his soft, wavy hair, and kiss him back.
He makes a satisfied sound low in his throat and then he's rolling me fully onto my back, his body settling over mine. His weight presses me into the mattress, solid and heavy, and overwhelming my senses in the best way.
My fingers grip the hard muscles in his shoulders, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine. Tingles spread outward from my core, an overwhelming craving for his touch overriding any semblance of common sense I have left, and my thighs fall open.
He accepts the invitation immediately, his hips settling between them, and even through layers of clothing, I can feel his erection pressing against my core.