Chapter 29 – Sienna
SIENNA
Tossing Vito onto the bed, he settles against the pillows like he hasn't just tracked something terrible across pristine white carpet. Did he step over a dead body on his way here? Who knows. He looks completely unbothered.
"Stay here," I whisper to him, as if he understands. All he cares about these days is the Michelin star menu Carmella prepares for him each day.
Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I tiptoe toward the door and peer out. The hallway is dark, which is unusual when there’s always staff milling around.
“Tony,” I hiss into the eerie quiet, but there’s no answer.
Shit.
I duck back into my room for a second and force myself to think. Tony’s out there somewhere. He’s never far from my side, and he’s armed. I just need to get to him.
Bloody pawprints shine in the dim light, leading away from my bedroom, toward the main staircase. I follow on bare feet, wincing at the sound of my steps on cold marble, loud to my ears, as my eyes slowly adjust to the unnerving darkness.
I feel the blood between my toes before I see it.
Tony is on the floor at the bottom of the steps, dragging himself toward me with one arm outstretched, leaving a dark smear in his wake. His other hand is pressed to his stomach over the growing stain on his shirt.
"No, Tony." I drop to my knees beside him, my nightgown soaking up his blood. "Oh God, Tony, what happened? What do I do?"
His eyes find mine, glassy with pain as he holds out a set of car keys for me to take. "Run." The word is barely a whisper. "Go."
I take the keys, but I don’t go anywhere, instead, lifting his shirt to see the gaping wound in his side.
He needs more help than I can give him right now.
Patting him down, my fingers find a phone in his jacket pocket and pull it out, holding it up to his face to open it just as Luca’s name flashes on the screen.
“Thank God,” I whisper, about to swipe to answer it, when awareness of another presence in the room stops me cold.
"I wouldn't do that."
The heavily accented voice makes me turn slowly, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. A figure sits in one of Luca's armchairs, watching me from the shadows of the living room, relaxed, legs crossed at the ankles, waiting for me to notice him.
My fingers twitch, the urge to answer the call so strong, but the man moves his hand, a large knife glinting in the silver light, and shakes his head slowly from side to side, sing-songing, “Ah ah,” like you would to a toddler.
He's large with broad shoulders and muscular, sinewy arms, and covered in tattoos that appear haphazardly placed, taking up almost every inch of his visible skin. His face is half in shadow, but I can see the hard line of his jaw, and pale eyes that track my every move.
"Luca's not here," I manage, hating the tremor I can’t hide. "But he'll be back any minute. If you leave now..."
I wave the phone, threatening to call Luca.
The man regards me coolly, looking me over from top to toe as I step closer, hoping that Tony can crawl for help while I keep him distracted.
"His men are dealt with." The man's accent is faint but unmistakably Russian.
He leans to the side, and his lip curls up as he watches Tony struggling to inch further away, amused by our attempts.
"And Luca was across town a short time ago, playing at being a businessman while his house burns down around him. Maybe not anymore, but he still won’t make it back in time. "
"In time for what?"
He ignores the question but gives me an indulgent smile. We both know for what. Pushing to his feet, he wipes the blade across his thigh, leaving a smear of wet on the dark fabric.
"I heard you helped my Kate."
My Kate.
I freeze. "Yes."
"Thank you for that," he says simply, with only a tiny flicker of emotion. "Even though it makes this harder, I appreciate you being there for her, for doing what you could."
Icy coldness spreads through my body.
I know exactly who this is. He’s the forbidden lover Kate could never marry. I couldn’t understand why anyone would keep a couple in love apart before, but I’m starting to get it now. This isn’t the kind of man you could bring home to your mother.
"Then don't do it. Whatever you're planning, just don't. Walk away. I won't tell anyone you were here. Tony will keep his mouth shut, too, if he lives."
The man steps into the moonlight, advancing so far in a couple of quick strides, that it catches me off guard, and I stumble backward, my fingers resting on the wall as I try to feel my way without giving him my back.
"Kate was mine. My true love." He thumps his chest once, giving me insight into his pain. "From the moment I first saw her. But with our families, our histories, it was impossible. So I let her go. Let Luca have her, because he promised to keep her safe, and that he would not take her for himself.”
He takes another step toward me.
I take one back.
"She died because I trusted him. He failed to protect her." His volume rises, just slightly, but that makes his pent-up rage all the more terrifying.
"I'm sorry." The words tumble out, desperate. "I'm so sorry for your loss. But killing me won't bring her back."
His dark brows furrow.
"No. This, I know." He tilts his head, studying me like I'm both fascinating and pathetic. "But Luca still must pay for his failure. He doesn't understand the grief. The raw, hollow despair of losing the one thing, the ONE person, in this world who means everything to you."
Another step forward for him.
Another step back for me.
"He will, though." His pale eyes bore into mine. "When I take you from him. Then he'll understand."
He lunges, and without thinking, I hurl the phone at his head before I turn and run.
I don't think, just blindly race down the hallway, bare feet slapping against marble. I hear him. If I can get outside, into the gardens, maybe I can find somewhere to hide until Luca comes home, or a car I can steal.
I take the corner too fast, and my feet hit wet tiles— probably from more of Tony's blood smeared across the floor—and my legs slide out from under me.
I crash down hard, the impact driving the air from my lungs, my hip and elbow screaming with pain as I attempt to scramble back up to my feet.
I twist onto my back, the hairs standing up on the back of my neck, as I hear his footsteps closing in behind me.
As I look up, he looms over me, knife raised, his face expressionless barring the chilling menace of a man who has killed before and has no problem doing it again.
When his arm starts to move, the self-defense classes I took after Luca disappeared kick in. Using my elbows to support me, even as one screams out in pain, I sweep his feet out from under him.
He goes down on his side, landing with a grunt of surprise, as the knife clatters away across the marble.
I'm already scrambling up, my bloody feet slipping and sliding as I race for the door to the patio, praying it’s unlocked.