Chapter 33 – Sienna
SIENNA
Luca doesn't let go of my hand the entire drive to the hotel, his protectiveness still on overdrive even though the doctor gave me the all clear.
On the far side of him, Mikhail sits in silence, a field dressing wrapped around his thigh, staring out the window. He hasn't spoken since we left the house, but I can sense his desperate need to see Kate with his own eyes before he'll really believe she's alive.
I should hate him. I'm still afraid of him, but every time I look at him now, I see the way he fell to his knees in front of that screen, and I understand him a little better. I don’t forgive him or want to spend any extended amount of time with him, but I can understand why.
In this world, I suppose it makes sense.
He did terrible things driven by grief and a desire to get justice for the one he loves.
Thinking of the scars that cross Luca's back, anger rises up inside me much stronger than the one I feel on my own behalf, because to do that to someone you're supposed to protect, to your child, is unforgivable.
We pull up to the Langham, and Enzo kills the engine, exiting quickly to open the door for Mikhail, not out of respect, but so he has him in his sights at all times. Through the windshield, the hotel glitters with warm light, the guests there oblivious to the violence its guests are capable of.
"Before you go in." Luca reaches into his jacket to withdraw an envelope. "This is the man Sienna identified as the shooter."
Mikhail takes it, slides the photograph out and studies it, his reactions giving nothing away, but I see how his pupils narrow, and the veins in his neck bulge. Whoever that photo is of, he's a dead man.
"You're sure?" Mikhail asks quietly.
Both men look at me, and I pause to think about what I'm doing, the seriousness of it. This photograph is a death sentence.
"I'm sure," I say quietly. "I’ll never forget those eyes."
"It might be best to get visual confirmation before we complete the transaction." Mikhail tucks the photograph back into the envelope and slips it inside his jacket, while Luca nods, watching me cautiously. "But once we have that, consider it done."
He extends his hand to Luca, and they shake, a brief clasp between two dangerous men who understand each other in ways I never will. Then Mikhail's gone, limping toward the hotel at speed, thoughts of everything other than Kate forgotten for now.
"He's going to kill him," I state the obvious, watching Mikhail disappear through the revolving doors, the doorman staring as he enters but having the good sense not to stop him.
"He is." Luca lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "But he tried to murder Kate. Whatever happens next isn't your doing, it's his own."
Movement in one of the upper windows catches my eye. A figure with red hair stands at the glass, looking down on the street, at us, and waves.
Kate.
She smiles, then mouths something, exaggerating the movements of her lips so I can understand, just two words. Thank you.
I nod, blinking back the sting of tears, scarcely able to comprehend how Luca orchestrated this and kept her hidden from everyone.
Then another figure appears beside her, Mikhail, and he wraps his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her hair. She melts into him, her hand coming up to cup the back of his head.
They look like two people very much in love, who've been given another chance. A bit like us.
The hotel doors open again, and Maeve O'Sullivan emerges, her silver hair gleaming under the streetlights as she crosses to us, and Luca steps out to meet her.
I climb out, watching across the roof of the car as she pulls him into a hug, her small frame dwarfed by his.
They speak in hushed tones, too quiet for me to hear, but I see her glance toward me, see her smile, and nod.
It seems at least on the Irish side, the objections to their union might be gone.
The drive back is quiet, both of us lost in thought, but it's a comfortable silence. His hand stays on my thigh the whole way, warm and grounding, while Nico and Enzo bicker in the front about why the other has no date for the wedding, which is coming around fast.
By the time we return, the blood is already gone from the floors, and the furniture has been righted or replaced. You’d never know that violence had touched these walls.
His brothers peel off as we enter, while Luca guides me with a sure hand past the workers scrubbing the floor boards where Tony was lying, steering me toward his study. Inside, he closes the door and crosses to his desk where a manila folder sits waiting beside a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
"Bruno dropped these off while we were out, at my request." He pours us both a drink, then picks up the folder, turning it over in his hands. "I've been meaning to show you."
Not sure I can take any more surprises, my steps falter.
"What is it? A prenup?”
It has to be. I’m shocked he didn’t make me sign one earlier with the amount of money he has. It makes sense to formalize our arrangement.
“Sit, please.” Instead of answering, he pulls out his phone and dials, setting it in the middle of the table on speaker. "Bruno. I have Sienna here. Can you walk her through the paperwork?"
He hands me the folder, already open to the right page, before pressing a kiss to my temple and moving to the window, glass in hand, giving me space.
Bruno's voice fills the room, professional and friendly. "Ms. Fox. I’m glad to hear you’ve come through recent events unscathed.” He pauses, the sound of shuffling papers carrying down the line. “The documents in front of you are property transfer papers.”
I glance toward Luca, confused, but his back is still to me as he looks out at the gardens beyond.
“The first set relates to a residential property and adjoining commercial garage in your hometown that once belonged to your parents."
My fingers go numb, and words fail me. I set the open folder down in front of me and notice the address printed at the top of the page. My parent’s house. The garage my father built from nothing. Long gone and now owned by someone else.
"I don't understand." It comes out barely above a whisper. "These were foreclosed. The bank took them years ago and resold them."
An uncomfortable pause.
"Luca had me look into it, and it seems they were purchased from the bank approximately six months after the foreclosure," Bruno explains. "By a shell company that, upon investigation, traced back to holdings controlled by Alfonso Calvano."
The room tilts. I grip the edge of the desk to steady myself. Is there no end to how much that man fucking hated me? "He bought them?"
"It appears so. He seemed to be… determined that even if your father got the funds together, he’d never be able to repurchase the property."
Glancing at Luca, he’s still looking out the window, whiskey in hand, shoulders bunched.
Alfonso didn't just destroy my family. He watched and waited, and when our lives fell apart completely, he collected the pieces like trophies.
Made sure that even if we somehow clawed our way back, were cleared of arson, supported and helped by our community, that we could never reclaim what was ours.
"The transfer documents will return both properties to your name," Bruno continues.
"Free and clear, no liens or encumbrances.
You'll also find on the following pages confirmation that your outstanding student loans have been satisfied in full, along with all credit card balances and the remaining balance on your vehicle.
A fund has also been transferred into your name with sufficient funds to cover college tuition, rent and a living wage for the duration of your studies. "
I flip through the pages in disbelief. There’s nothing but zeros where there used to be crushing debt beneath my name. Years of scraping by, of choosing between groceries and minimum payments, of watching the numbers climb no matter how hard I worked.
Gone, just like that.
"Why?" The word comes out choked, directed at Luca's rigid back.
Bruno clears his throat. "I believe Mr. Calvano wanted to ensure that there were no longer financial considerations or concerns influencing your decisions or weighing on your mind ahead of the big day.”
Luca still refuses to turn, merely taking a sip of his drink as he peers outside, like this is no big deal.
“If there's nothing else, I'll leave you to review the documents. The signature pages are flagged. Call if you have questions." The line goes silent.
Luca clears his throat, head low, with his glass dangling between his fingers at his side, but he still doesn't turn around.
"It's been bothering me. You’ve been through hell, between what my father put you through, what I put you through, the shooting, and then Mikhail…” He straightens and lifts his chin stubbornly.
“If you’re only here because you have no choice, I want to release you from that obligation.
My issues with my father are not your problems to fix. I will take over, wedding or not."
"Luca—" I stand and take a step closer, wanting to reach out and touch him, but he raises his hand, needing to get whatever else he has to say out.
"I meant what I said." He finally turns to face me. "Once we're married, you’re not leaving me. Right now, against my better judgment, I’m giving you a choice. But once you’re mine, there will be no going back."
I stare at him, at this man who has given me back everything his father stole, including him, but who still thinks I might walk away.
"I don't care about any of this." I wave a hand over the desk, and Luca frowns.
His brow furrows. "Sienna—" Irritated, he steps forward and picks up a page, which I promptly snatch and set down.
"I mean it." Rising up on my tiptoes, I grab the front of his shirt. "This is thoughtful, and generous, but none of it matters any more. I love you. You’re all I want."
His features darkens, and for a second, I think I’ve said something to anger him. But then I see it for what it is.
Not rage. Hunger.