Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sienna
The present
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell Lacey, who’s about as happy as I am being stuck inside the panic room. It’s as if she knows we’re in here because I tipped off Kirksey. “My kidnapping was the last straw,” I defend myself to a dog. “The family chose their side; I chose mine.”
Lacey remains unconvinced, and I continue, “I’m no longer a pawn on the Calvani game board; I’ve become the knight. I think it’s the knight? Or maybe a king? Look, I don’t know much about chess, but you get my point.”
She appears as confused as I am about the rules of chess, plopping down beside me as I weave a new pattern with my bobbins. My school project is on hold; I’ve decided to take a shot with my New York contact while I have the chance.
Lacey huffs, and I didn’t realize a dog could do that.
“No, I’m not worried about Fabien. Despite his Shakespearean declarations, he will always choose the family first. Remember that.”
I wish I had remembered that when I was riding the man’s face this morning. With a huff of my own, I place my bobbins down. The last thing I need is to get distracted from my lacemaking or my plan for revenge.
That annoying little voice says, You’re not distracted; you’re worried about him.
“Shut up,” I grumble, and Lacey looks at me.
“Not you.” My head falls back on the couch. Maybe Maks is right: I do need to have this checked out.
“Mrs. Calvani.” A voice comes over the intercom, one that doesn’t belong to Fabien.
Feeling something dangerously close to regret, I rise and grab the phone receiver. “Yes?”
“The threat’s been cleared, but Mr. Calvani has asked that you remain in the panic room until he returns.”
I suppress a sigh of relief.
“Tell him I said that if he doesn’t let me out this instant, he’s the one who should be panicking.”
“Um, yes, Mrs. Calvani. Please hold.”
I tap my foot impatiently, and the guard comes back on the line. “Mr. Calvani said he’s looking forward to it.”
Not having a response to that, I hang up.
And I hate that I have a smile on my face while doing so.
Ensuring this party isn’t a disaster, that’s the only reason I’m out here.
Liar, that little voice whispers.
“Shut up,” I groan.
“Haven’t had time to stick my foot in my mouth yet,” Fabien says, sidling up beside me. “Was that a preemptive warning?”
“Covering all my bases.” The man looks far too sexy for my own good, and yet I find myself adjusting his crooked tie.
“Hate you too, baby,” he murmurs, moving in like he’s going to kiss me.
Dropping the Italian silk, I warn him, “Don’t make this a wedding tradition.”
“What, me trying to kiss my beautiful bride?” He inches in closer.
“Getting kneed in the nuts,” I warn him.
The rich baritone of his laugh does idiotic things to my insides. “Only for you will I risk my balls.”
“Uh-huh,” I say in an unimpressed tone.
“Why didn’t you wear the dress I bought you?”
It was a gorgeous white cocktail dress that I ignored, choosing to go instead with my funeral ensemble. “Because I’m still in mourning.”
“That’s okay. I have news that will cheer you up.” Fabien takes another step closer, and I take a step back, until I’m plastered against a decorative garden wall.
“You’re announcing our divorce at this party?” I say hopefully.
His lips lift into a sexy grin. “Till death do us part. I’m not going anywhere.”
A feeling awfully close to guilt ratchets through me. I haven’t forgotten that I still owe Kirksey another piece of info for that other million, and he’s going to want blood.
My husband’s blood.
Fabien’s hands slip into his suit pockets. “Angelo stepped down, and I was sworn in as boss.”
I gasp. “Peacefully, or will my funeral outfit be serving double duty?”
That gets a chuckle out of him. “Peacefully. My brother is going to become NOLA’s new mayor.”
“Wow, that is news.” I take in this surprising turn of events. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, being boss.” My eyes search his. “Are you happy?”
Fabien smiles softly. “As soon as I get my queen to forgive me, then yes, I’ll be happy.”
Not seeing how that’s possible, I remain silent.
“I was reckless with you once; I won’t let that happen again,” he declares.
A frown tugs my lips. “Neither will I, and that’s where we’re stuck.”
“I’m not stuck; you’re just stubborn as hell.”
Arms crossed, I inform him, “You knew that going in.”
“My balls and I did,” he agrees.
Despite myself, I smile.
“Stop hating me, just for tonight.” He cups my cheek, and out of complete lack of self-preservation, I find myself leaning into his touch.
“Boss,” someone calls, breaking the spell.
“Be back in a little while.” He winks, hustling across the courtyard.
“Take your time,” I call after him, needing to get back into the proper headspace of hating my husband. My first stop is the bar, shielding myself with a cocktail that I always hide behind at family gatherings.
It’s different now, that little voice argues, but as the party begins, I watch over the rim of my cocktail glass as everyone licks my husband’s boots.
Maybe not so different after all.
“Sienna!” The same capo’s wife from Michele’s birthday party waves me down. “Wow, married to the boss. You certainly moved up, and Michele’s body wasn’t even cold.” She giggles.
“And you, still pregnant with twins! Due any day now, right?”
“Still one baby,” she says through her teeth. “And I’m five months pregnant.”
“Ohhhh, my mistake. If you’ll excuse me.”
The chef rolls out the wedding cake, and I hurry to intercept him, but pause, reminding myself that I no longer have to babysit Michele and his tantrums. “Let’s set up the cake across from the fountain,” I decide.
“Yes, Mrs. Calvani.”
The party gets into full swing, with the boss being pulled this way and that. We both have what we’ve always wanted. Fabien is the boss, and I have my own design studio. And yet it all feels hollow, because…
Lest I screw up my mascara, that train of thought is stopped in its tracks.
Angelo appears with Maks trailing behind him like a menacing shadow.
They both are on the receiving end of death glares from me. Unfortunately, neither gets the hint. Angelo strides toward me, with Maks a few feet behind his boss.
“Sienna. A funeral and a wedding. You move quickly,” Angelo muses.
Oh, how I’ve looked forward to this day. “Since you’re no longer the boss, Angelo, I refuse to hold my tongue—”
“You held your tongue before?” he says without inflection.
“Your holier-than-thou attitude is beyond trite,” I inform him. “As the boss of this family, you could have ended my suffering at the hands of Michele with the flick of your wrist. You chose not to involve yourself because you didn’t see me as human, but as a whore. Someone beneath you.”
A Calvani family trait, one that Angelo doesn’t deny.
Now that I’m good and fired up, I continue, “And because you didn’t see me as human, you had no problem ordering me drugged and kidnapped.”
Angelo holds up his hands. “You were caught in a family squabble. For that, I apologize.”
Bitterness coats my words. “A family squabble? That’s what you call drugging me in the bathroom of school and dragging my body out the window?” While I don’t remember most of it, that’s how it must’ve happened; otherwise, my guard would’ve interceded.
Angelo’s voice remains inflectionless. “What is it you want from me, Sienna?”
My chin lifts. “I am the wife of the boss of this family. You will treat me with at least feigned respect from hereon out.”
“Perhaps my view of you has been tainted because of certain information I possess,” Angelo admits.
No clue which of my sins he’s referring to, so I keep my face neutral.
Blue eyes similar to Fabien’s attempt to pin in place. “You fucked Remi’s boyfriend.”
My nose wrinkles. “Unfortunately, that is true. I’m sure she told you about how she came into possession of Nola, and about working for me. What Remi doesn’t know is that Michele ordered me to recruit her as one of the call girls.”
Rage flickers in Angelo’s eyes. If Michele were alive, he’d be a dead man.
A day late and a dollar short, just like his brother.
“I did Remi a favor by running her off,” I inform him. “Although I do wonder, would you be as judgmental to sweet Remi if she had been forced into a life of prostitution?”
Angelo crosses his arms. “A moot point, as it didn’t happen.”
“Thanks to me. Will you be repaying me for my good deed?” My voice is saccharine-sweet.
“You’re alive, aren’t you?” He walks off.
Fucking Calvani men. Still assholes, the lot of them.
I make my way through the party, spotting Remi. We make eye contact, and she scowls. Not an invitation, but it’s my party, so I’m taking it as one. “Remi.”
“Well, if it isn’t Sienna.” Her hands fall on her hips. “Ladies, hide your boyfriends.”
With an exaggerated eye roll, I inform her, “Please, I never wanted your boyfriend. I’m not sure why you wanted your boyfriend.”
“You’re going to stand there and tell me you didn’t fuck Ellis?” Remi fumes.
I examine my nails wrapped around the cocktail glass, wishing I would’ve touched them up. “You’re welcome.”
“Excuse me?” Remi seethes. “What should I thank you for? Being a woman with no moral code?”
See, this is what I get for having a moral code in the first place. “For starters, you should thank me for saving you.”
“What are you talking about?” She eyes me with distrust, not that I blame her.
“Mr. D’Amico ordered me to bring you into the fold.”
Remi’s eyebrows crease. “What fold?”
“The prostitution ring.” Her eyes go wide, and I continue, “You didn’t know about the revolving door of call girls and johns at the hotel?” I tsk. “Nice to be naive, I suppose.”
One good deed does not a saint make.
Remi lifts her chin. “Even if that’s true, I would’ve said no.”
An acrid laugh escapes my lips. “And your lack of consent would have been irrelevant to my former psychopath of a husband. Capo husband. You didn’t know he was a boss?
” Based on Remi’s shocked expression, that’s a safe assumption.
“I chose the lesser of two evils and ran you off. So, yeah, you’re welcome. ”