Chapter 31 – Sienna
SIENNA
Idon't understand what's happening. Why didn't Luca leave Enzo to deal with this man and whisk me away?
One moment, I was certain I was going to die, and the next, relief like nothing I’ve felt before as Luca appeared just in time to save me.
But now, betrayal and confusion fill me as Luca leads the man who tried to kill me through the house, albeit still pointing a gun at him.
“Luca…” I squeeze his hand as he pulls me along, his hold strong, not allowing me to back away.
Mikhail limps heavily ahead of us, leaving a trail of blood behind him, but Luca doesn't seem concerned about the mess. He doesn't seem concerned about anything except getting us to his office.
I follow along because I don't know what else to do, and even though I have no idea what is going on, I feel safest close to Luca.
My legs are shaking, my feet are numb, and every few seconds, I have to remind myself to breathe.
The adrenaline is still coursing through me, making everything feel sharp and distant at the same time.
I feel strange. Detached. Like I’m floating, watching from above, curious what Luca needs to show us so badly, but also, distantly wondering why I’m not running screaming for the hills and telling Luca the deal is off.
But as I cling to his hand, I’m struck by the realization that the only person I want to run to is him.
Luca's office is at the back of the house, and as we file inside, he guides Mikhail to a chair, and the Russian collapses into it, his face gray with pain and continued blood loss.
Luca snatches a tie from a drawer and flings it at him.
The Russian snatches it mid air and sets about tying it tightly around his thigh, above the wound.
Luca retrieves cable ties from the bottom drawer of his desk and fastens Mikhail's ankles together. As he stands, he grips Mikhail's leg, pressing his thumb hard into the wound, smiling through gritted teeth as the Russian roars in pain, face clammy and pale.
"I'm giving you a fucking chance, Mikhail, but I am not fucking happy about doing it. Give me an excuse, one fucking reason, and I'll happily change my mind for what you did to my woman."
I stare at Luca, bottom lip wobbling, still not comprehending what’s happening. Lingering as near to the exit as I can, I tug on Luca’s hand as he tries to draw me further inside. I trust him, I’m sure he’ll keep me safe, but asking me to be in the same room as this man is a lot.
“I don’t know…” Shaking my head, my feet stick to the floor, refusing to move, but I relent, slowly shuffling closer as Luca carefully takes my hands in his.
"Sit," Luca says to me, lowering himself into his large, leather office chair, his request uttered gently. “Please.”
He pats his knee, and numbly, I step between his thick thighs and lower myself to sit on his leg. I'm not sure I could stand much longer anyway.
Immediately, Luca pulls me closer and wraps one arm around my waist, the other, still holding the gun, resting casually on his desk. He presses a kiss to my shoulder. "This will only take a moment."
Mikhail watches us closer, even as he keeps his head down, pretending his focus is entirely on his damaged leg. With a renewed hatred, he twists to glare at Luca.
“So what now?” The Russian laughs bitterly. “You want me to beg for my life? I know you’re not a man of mercy. Crying and pleading will do me no good.” His eyes drift around the room, landing briefly on a pen resting on Luca’s table, and the lamp on a shelf to his left.
“Maybe,” Luca concedes.
I tense, wishing Enzo had fought harder to stay behind. This man gives me the creeps. I’m pretty sure he could kill someone with just about every object in this room.
Luca flips open his laptop and types rapidly, as though he’s oblivious to the turn Mikhail’s thoughts have taken once more. Violence.
“If you’d answered your damn phone, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Mikhail surges to his feet, a metal statue now gripped in his hand, but Luca snatches up the gun faster than I thought humanly possible and aims it straight at Mikhail’s head, standing with me still gathered to him by one arm.
Mikhail freezes.
“Sit the fuck down,” Luca growls as the large television mounted on the wall flickers to life.
Our attention moves to the screen, Mikhail and I, while Luca doesn’t look away from the Russian, who still seems intent on fulfilling his mission. Suddenly, I'm looking at what appears to be a hotel room, an expensive, elegant one, with heavy drapes and a king-size bed.
But… I tilt my head, trying to make sense of the stand beside the bed, with wires and a… IV?
Movement catches my eye, and I realize that there, sitting on the edge of that bed, her red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and a book open in her lap, is Kate O'Sullivan.
Alive.
My heart leaps and I gasp, hand flying to my mouth.
It can’t be. I blink, certain I'm hallucinating, but she's still there. Pale, thin, and certainly less glamorous than I remember, with dark circles under her eyes, and a bandage visible on her hand, but alive, nonetheless.
“No,” Mikhail whispers, head spinning to look at Luca before whirling back to the screen, afraid to look away for a second, in case she disappears.
Maeve sits in an armchair beside her, reading on her phone. As I watch, she looks up and says something to Kate, who smiles weakly in response, then rubs her hand, reaching for the IV line to move it along before she shuffles up higher in the bed.
A sound escapes Mikhail, a noise somewhere between a groan and a sob. He lurches forward and drops to his knees in front of the screen, pulling the chair over, his bloodstained fingers reaching up to touch the glass, like he scarcely believes it’s real.
"Tell me it's true." Desperation rolls off the lethal killer, barely recognizable now, with his eyes squeezed shut.
"She's alive." Luca spits out, his words still carrying a pissed off edge. "She’s still recovering, but she’s stable."
Mikhail is whispering what sounds like a prayer in Russian when he drops his head.
I look at Luca, my mind struggling to process what I'm seeing.
He's been hiding her this whole time, letting everyone believe she was dead. But why?
“What do you want?” Mikhail struggles to his feet and then turns, panic written all over his sharp features. “Do anything you want to me. Just do not harm her. She’s innocent.”
Luca groans, his shoulders rising to his ears then lowering on a long exhale.
“I don’t want anything, Mikhail. She’s not leverage.
” He waves toward the screen where there’s no denying she’s being well looked after.
“I suspected the hit was meant for her, not me.
" Luca moves to stand beside me, his hand finding my shoulder. "They had the chance to end me but didn’t take it. Kate was the target the whole time. So, I let them think they succeeded so they wouldn’t come back to finish the job. "
He’s making it sound like it's an inconvenience, but still what anyone else would have done. But I know that’s not true, especially if it cost them a position of power like it still could do to Luca.
"You let everyone think she was dead,” I whisper.
"I let her enemies and mine think she was dead. There's a difference." We stand there and watch Maeve help her daughter reposition her pillows. “I had to tell Maeve, or she’d have come for me.”
Mikhail stares at Kate with a longing that makes my heart ache before turning to look at Luca. The emptiness is gone, replaced by a dangerous and determined look. "Take me to her."
Luca bristles, not taking kindly to being ordered around.
"After you see a doctor, and after I make sure Tony is still alive, and Sienna is okay. Then maybe, I will take you to her." Luca’s not in the mood for debate. "Doc will be here…"
"I don't care about the doctor." The tendons in Mikhail’s jaw stand out, his temper rising alongside his volume.
"She will." Luca moves toward him threateningly.
"You just tried to kill the woman I love.
The only reason your heart is still beating is because I like Kate.
So you're going to do exactly what I tell you, get treated by a fucking professional, and maybe, maybe, if you're very lucky, I won't change my mind and put a bullet between your fucking eyes instead. "
Mikhail holds his gaze for a long moment, then he nods, accepting the terms. “Fine.”
After a long beat, Luca, finally satisfied, eases back, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“I will call someone here to tend to you while I care for my wife, who you are very fucking lucky is unhurt.”
Mikhail turns to me, and I shrink in on myself instinctively, pressing back into Luca.
The fear hasn't faded yet, and I don't know if it ever will.
This man chased me and stood over me with a knife. He attacked Tony and left him for dead, and fully intended to watch me bleed out on the marble floor.
But for now, the murderous intent is gone from his eyes. In its place is an emotion that looks almost like shame.
"I owe you a debt," he says quietly, head bowed. "Two debts. One for saving Kate's life. One for almost taking yours."
I don't know what to say or how I’m supposed to react to that.
"You fought well." A ghost of respect flickers across his face. "We are both fortunate you got the better of me.” He turns to Luca. “I underestimated her. There aren’t many people I can say that about."
Luca continues to scowl at him, his anger not the least bit softened by Mikhail's compliments of my ability not to die, and I’m relieved, because it gives me permission to maintain my distance.
Mikhail extends his hand toward me, then seems to think better of it, curling his bloodied fingers back into his palm. Probably wise. I'm not sure I could touch him right now without screaming, and Luca looks like he might reconsider putting a bullet in his brain if he touches me anyway.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
"When you are ready," Mikhail says instead, taking a step back. "I will find a way to repay what I owe. This, I swear."
Luca straightens, tucking me against his side.
I lean further into him, drawing strength from his solid warmth.
“Don’t leave this room.” Luca leaves the feed up on the screen and steers me toward the door. When we step outside, two guards I've seen around the place are waiting, face pale, to go in and keep an eye on the Russian.
"Who did this?" Mikhail asks, staring at Kate on the screen, unblinking, the softness gone once more from his voice. "Who ordered the hit on my Kate?"
Luca is silent for a moment, debating how much to reveal, and I stare up at him, suddenly fascinated by how much is going on that I obviously had no idea about.
"I know who the shooter was," he says finally. "But I can’t prove who ordered it yet. Not definitively enough to make a move."
Mikhail's pale eyes glitter dangerously. "Tell me what you need. And then point me in the right direction."