by Bethany-Kris
John’s jaw tightened. “Considering what, exactly?”
“Well, you’ve only been out of prison for what … a couple of months?”
“Five at the end of December, actually.”
Matteo pointed a finger at John, and wagged it. “Ah, see. And I bet you’re still on some kind of parole conditions, aren’t you?”
John stayed quiet.
The boss didn’t seem to mind. “Mmm, I bet you are. If I remember correctly, your sentence was a five-year term. Yes, but you came out at, what, three years or so served before release?”
That time, Matteo did look to John for him to speak.
“Yes,” John settled on saying.
Seeming satisfied with that line of questioning, Matteo came forward a bit to rest his beefy arms along the edge of the desk. He tipped his head to the side, and regarded John for a long moment before he spoke again.
And when he did speak, he completely changed directions.
“I heard some interesting information the other day, Johnathan,” he said.
John cocked a brow. “What was that, boss?”
“Your cousin—Andino—has moved up in the Marcello family. An underboss, they told me. We didn’t get the chance to properly speak about it at the restaurant. I’m expecting a meet with Dante and his new right hand soon, and it’ll all be official then.”
Typically, Cosa Nostra families didn’t talk specifics about their respective organizations. It just wasn’t good business practice. Despite the fact they all took the same oath, each family kept their secrets safely guarded.
For good reason …
Matteo didn’t seem to need John’s confirmation, however. “I did find it a little strange though, all things considered.”
The man seemed to like that phrase a lot.
John didn’t like it at all.
“Considering what?” John asked.
This all felt like one big circle. Matteo talked about what he wanted, and he led John exactly where he also wanted him to go in the conversation. It might have appeared like an open conversation from the outside looking in, but it definitely wasn’t.
Matteo drummed his jeweled covered fingers to the desk. “Oh, come on, John. I’m sure you know that the Three Families in New York are always keeping up with the politics of the family next to them. It keeps us all in the loop.”
“Sure, I guess.”
John wasn’t one-hundred percent sure why Matteo was doubling-down on this topic about his family, but he didn’t like it. At the moment, there wasn’t much more he could do other than sit there and listen to it.
Respect, and all.
“I think we all assumed it would be you moving up in the family when it came time—as I mentioned at the restaurant. You are the oldest, and your father is a very well respected made man. The longtime underboss to Dante Marcello—one of the most feared bosses in North America. And your other uncle—Giovanni—acting as a consigliere. That was the kind of structure and influence you grew up in. It just made sense for it to be you.”
John didn’t blink. “Andino grew up with those same people, and those same influences.”
“So he did, I suppose.” Matteo sighed, and looked to his left out the window at the dark sky. “But it’s still a little odd that you haven’t been given more control, John. A shame really. I don’t think your potential is being put to work at its fullest. Not by a long shot.”
“Maybe not, but it is what it is,” John returned.
Matteo’s lips curved at the corner. “So it seems, doesn’t it?”
John chose not to answer that time.
John had his back turned to the entrance hallway as he shrugged on his jacket. He didn’t see Siena coming for him until she had grabbed his jacket, and yanked him into the mudroom with her. She slammed the door shut behind them as he righted himself.
“What the hell, woman?” John asked.
Siena folded her arms over her chest, and refused to look him in the eye. “Why, John? Why couldn’t you have just woke me up that morning? Knocked on my fucking forehead or something to make me wake up and say you had to run. You didn’t even try to contact me after, and then out of the blue, you’re here again like it’s fine. It’s not fine!”
John’s brow lifted. “Are you usually this back and forth with your emotions? It’s a little concerning, Siena.”
She glared.
He shrugged.
“I thought …” She pressed her lips tightly together, as though she was refusing to say whatever had come to her mind.
“What?”
“That maybe you weren’t like every other guy that tries to get me in bed, John. It turned out that you were exactly like every other guy.”
John did stand a little bit straighter at that comment. “First, I was interested in you—still am. Second, shit came up, and I had to bolt. After that day, more things kept coming up that I had to deal with. I wasn’t supposed to be getting romantically involved with somebody anyway, and I figured after I left you without fuck all the first time, you probably didn’t want to see me again.”
“You were right about that.”
Her posture screamed defensive.
Her eyes shouted pain.
She was still lying.
“I don’t want to be somebody’s plaything,” she told him quietly.
John nodded. “I don’t want somebody to fuck with my emotions. So hey, I won’t treat you like a toy, and you try not to give me whiplash with this kind of nonsense. It’s a two-way street.”
Siena still wouldn’t meet his eyes when she said, “I don’t know what to feel.”
“Welcome to my world.”
He felt like that all the time.
Either he had too many feelings.
Or he had none at all.
There was no in between.
Siena’s tongue peeked out to wet her lips. “I want to give you a chance to apologize.”
John barely hid back his smile as he inched closer to her. “Oh?”
“A little.”
“So do that, donna.”
She peeked up at him through dark lashes. “Something tells me you’re kind of a risk, though.”
“That instinct is correct.”
“Maybe, but are you a risk worth taking, John?” she asked.
Well, that he didn’t have the answer to.
“I’m sorry I took off,” he murmured.
They stood toe-to-toe, now. He moved his pinky outward, and stroked the side of her hand with it, that’s how close they were. If he leaned down just a bit, his kiss could graze her forehead.
John wouldn’t do any of that unless Siena wanted him to. However, that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to do it. Because he did. A whole lot.
There was something about this woman that had kept her on his mind for months. Sometimes, she wasn’t always the focus because he dealt with one thing at a time when it came to his brain. She was always there, though, buzzing and poking. Occasionally, thoughts of her would come back to the forefront to tease him.
She was right.
He was a risk.
But so was she.
A woman like her with a family like she had—not to mention the shit he dealt with being bipolar and how it fucked with his relationships—was a huge risk for John.
A mess he didn’t need.
A problem he might not be able to fix.
Something bad.
Siena tipped her head back, and stared up at him. “Say it again.”
“Hmm, what?”
“How sorry you are.”
“Will it make it better?” he asked.
Siena grinned. “Probably not entirely, but it’ll get us there.”
“I am interested in more than sex, Siena.”
“And if I asked you to take me home tonight …”
John smirked. “I would not say no.”
He might be sorry, but he was also very much a fucking man. She was all woman. Every single part of him knew it,
too.
“So maybe we could do that?” she asked quietly.
John cupped her jaw and neck with his palm, and felt the way her heart raced under his touch. Or maybe it was her nerves from approaching him like this after everything. That risk she had mentioned.
“How about this,” he murmured, “I will take you to my place, and if something comes up, you are more than welcome to stay until I get back. Because really, shit always comes up for me first thing in the morning. So hey, it’ll be up to you if you want to take off on me as payback for what I did to you.”
Siena nipped on her bottom lip. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“I’m supposed to be somewhere for work around eleven, or so.”
“I can take you there,” he promised, “and cabs do go to where I live.”
She laughed.
John waited …
He’d been waiting months for this, after all.
He could wait a few more seconds.
“Do you have good coffee?”
John chuckled, and bent down to press a quick kiss to her grinning mouth. He let his thumb drag over her lips as he pulled away. “The best coffee, actually.”
“Okay, your apology is accepted.”
“Thought so.”
“For now,” she added.
John could deal with that.
Typically, when John woke up to the sound of his phone dinging, it automatically put him in a shitty mood. He didn’t mind so much when he rolled over to grab the chiming device that morning because he was fucking satisfied.
Not at all tired.
Feeling damn good.
Yeah, satisfied.
He rolled to his back, and peered at the screen of his phone while he rubbed his palm down his naked chest. His hand rested just above where the sheet covered his semi-erection, and he scrolled through the text message update.
From the pharmacy, it seemed.
Prescriptions for Johnathan Marcello are ready to be picked up at—
John tossed the phone aside, already done with the message. He knew he had to go pick up his new dose of meds. He tried the higher dosage of Lithium with the mixture of antianxiety and mood stabilizer meds that the therapist wanted him to use.
His mind felt like a fog from it all.
The therapist had suggested she lower the dose of the Lithium. John hadn’t bothered to tell her, but he had already started to half the Lithium every day, anyway. It was the only way he could break his mind out of the medicated fog it created.
He’d grab the prescriptions, but he still had a good three weeks’ worth of his old meds before he had to worry about it. Then he would have to play the new pill game with the therapist while she tested yet another dose on him.
John didn’t even need to roll over in the bed to know that the other side was empty. He’d felt the loss of Siena the moment she crawled out of bed about an hour ago, and had only gone back to sleep when he heard the shower turn on from the connecting bathroom.
He rested his arm behind his head as a makeshift pillow, and listened. Something metal clanged downstairs—a pot, likely.
Unlike him, Siena didn’t seem to be a flight risk. She would have had every right to bolt on him even if she had promised to still be there in the morning after she dragged him into the bedroom.
He took that as a battle won.
Fucking that woman was like taking a five-mile run first thing in the morning. It woke him up out of the stupor that was his everyday life, and left him out of breath. She worked him good, made his muscles ache by the end of it all, but still feeling like another go ‘round was a likely possibility.
A louder clang echoed from downstairs, and was followed by a loud cuss. John decided it was time to get up before Siena fucking hurt herself, or something. He pulled on a pair of sleep pants to cover his lower half, but nothing was hiding the half-mast of his dick pushing against the cotton.
Fuck it.
Soon enough, John was leaning in the entryway of the kitchen, and he watched as Siena balanced on a chair while she tried to pull a mixing bowl off the highest shelf in the pantry cupboard. Her wet hair hung in rivulets down her back, and he could see just a peek of her bare ass beneath the dress shirt she had thrown on.
His shirt.
It looked far better on her.
He didn’t even mind.
Those bare legs of hers—all soft lines, and sweet curves—looked damn good as she tried to balance on one foot and stretch to reach the bowl high above her head. He was so caught up in staring at her that he didn’t even mind she had seemed to tear his cupboards apart.
Anyone else, and John’s odd tendencies about his place and things being just how he wanted them might have come out to play in a not so nice way.
But this was her.
And he didn’t mind so much with her.
“Need some help?” he asked.
She must not have heard him coming downstairs because the shriek she let out damn near burst his eardrums. Not to mention, her body swayed on the chair, and she missed her step when she set her foot back down.
John bolted forward, and barely managed to catch Siena before she hit either the chair, the floor, or fucking both. Her brown hair created a curtain over her face, and she blew out a hard breath. A couple of strands puffed forward before Siena used a hand to push the hair back.
He’d caught her just a few inches from the floor. Lucky, really.
“Make some noise,” she told him, glowering. “I almost killed myself.”
“Thank you, John,” he mocked, “for not letting that happen.”
Siena pursed her lips. “And that, too!”
“Mmhmm.”
She grabbed his jaw with one hand, pulled him in close, and gave him a kiss that made his dick go from half-mast to all the way hard. Damn. All it took was her teasing little tongue flicking against his lips, and then the promise of a taste of her, and there he was … ready to go again.
“I was trying to make breakfast,” she whispered against his grinning lips.
“You needed the biggest bowl to do that?”
“Pancakes are messy, okay.”
John nodded. “Sure.”
“I kind of tore some cupboards apart looking for things.”
“As long as you put it all back, I don’t care.”
Siena winked. “Deal. Will you get me the bowl?”
“You bet.”
He straightened up, and put Siena to her bare feet. He didn’t even need the damn chair that she had been trying to use to kill herself and get the bowl. All he had to do was lean up and grab the stupid thing out of the cupboard.
John easily snatched the bowl without trouble, and handed it to a scowling Siena. “Oh, don’t look like that, now.”
“It’s not fun being short. Do you know how much it sucks to need a stool to reach anything? Nothing is made for my height.”
“You’re not … short. I mean, not for a woman. You’re average.”
Siena’s mouth popped open, and then she took that bowl and smacked him in the arm with it. “Don’t you call me average!”
John laughed, and rubbed his arm at the same time. Shit, that hurt. Her glare was also funny which only made him laugh harder. It felt strange and good. He couldn’t remember a time when he had a morning like this. If he ever had one …
Siena pouted. “Don’t laugh at me, too! That’s doubly insulting, John.”
Her downcast gaze was the only thing to sober him up. Instantly, he was reaching out to grab hold of Siena, and drag her to him. She softened against his chest, and tipped her head back to stare up at him. Those pretty pink lips of hers kissed the underside of his unshaved jaw.
“You’re not an average woman,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “You’re beautiful and amazing, and you come in a slightly smaller package when it comes to height.”
Her palm tapped against his chest jokingly.
“You’re forgiven.”
“Good.” He dro
pped another kiss to her head. “Now, someone owes me breakfast. So, get on that, would you?”
John let Siena go, and smacked her ass as she passed him by. The cute little glare she shot over her shoulder at him only earned her a wink in response.
While Siena busied herself at the counter, John eyed the cupboard over the fridge. Nothing looked out of place on top of the fridge to say she had looked up there for anything. All his medications were kept safe, it seemed.
At least, for now.
If the two of them continued with whatever this was, John was going to have to bring up the topic of his disorder, and what it all meant. For him, and for her. It was the right thing to do, but the idea also left him with a heavy weight in his gut.
For more reasons than he cared to admit.
Would she bolt?
Would she look at him differently?
“Hey,” Siena said from the island.
John glanced her way as her voice dragged him from his black mind. “What, bella?”
“Do you have honey?”
“For what?”
“It’s better than plain old corn syrup. You don’t have real maple syrup.”
“Aunt Jemima isn’t maple syrup?” John asked.
Siena arched a brow. “Are you serious?”
“It says maple on the bottle.”
“It says flavored. It’s corn syrup with flavoring added.”
Huh.
“I have honey.”
She gave him a look. “Real honey?”
“Yes, real honey.”
Siena winked. “Good.”
John turned to the pantry, and pulled the honey in question from the shelf. Still unopened, the jar was filled to the rim with golden sweetness. He strolled over, and set it beside the bowl where Siena was already starting to fill it with dry ingredients.
She peeked over at him. “Do you want to help?”
“I think I like watching you more.”
Her smile teased him. “That so?”
“Yeah, love.”
“La dolce vita,” she said, grinning.
“The sweet life.”
Siena nodded. “Every man likes to feel like a king in his home, doesn’t he?”
John laughed a husky tune. “Some men certainly do.”
“Are you one of those men?”
