When the second song comes to an end, I once again try to pull free, but just like before, Christiano tightens his hold on me and shakes his head.
“Stop trying to pull away. I get almost no time with you, and today, you’re not leaving my arms unless I decide otherwise.”
I lower my head and try to focus on my breathing so I don’t spiral but instead inhale a lungful of his scent. The man smells like a blend of violence and leather with a hint of spice.
It’s familiar but foreign at the same time.
Christiano lets go of my hand, and placing it behind my head, he leans down and presses his mouth to my temple. I feel his lips move as he says, “Just give me this.”
I’m unable to ignore the feel of his arms around me and his solid chest.
A rational part of me thinks that it’s been seven years and no one has been able to kill him. Maybe he’s strong enough to survive until an old age. Maybe…maybe…maybe…
But the fear… God, the fear overwhelms me, and the memory of thinking I lost him rips through me like a hurricane.
Instantly, my lungs refuse to work, and my heart speeds up until it’s beating dangerously fast. Somehow, I manage to yank free, and doing what I do best, I run.
I don’t stop until I slam through the restroom door, and with trembling fingers, I struggle to lock it so Christiano can’t follow me inside.
When the door is pushed open, I let out a panicked sob.
“It’s me, sweetheart,” Mom says, and I quickly step back so she can come in.
She pushes a bottle of water into my hands before digging out the spare box of my medication she always carries in her handbag. I’m trembling so badly, I can’t take the two pills from her, and Mom has to push them into my mouth.
After I manage to swallow them, she holds me.
I gasp for air while my anxiety squeezes the life out of my chest, and just as I see dots swimming in my vision, it finally begins to lessen as a medicated calmness soaks into my mind.
“There you go.” Mom pulls back and squeezes my shoulders, then my upper arms, wrists, and hands. She keeps repeating the process while I calm down, and by the time my breaths even out, I feel exhausted and sleepy.
“I’ll get Milo to take us home,” she says.
Lethargically, I shake my head, and my tongue feels heavy. “You have to stay for Riccardo.” I can see Mom’s torn between staying and supporting me. “I’m just going to sleep. Don’t worry. I’ll take a cab.”
“Over my dead body. Milo will go home with you.”
Nodding, I leave the restroom with Mom. It feels like I’m trudging through thick mud, and every few steps, I struggle to keep my balance.
“Wait here,” Mom says, leaving me in the hallway while she goes to get Uncle Milo.
I lean against one of the walls and wrap my arms around my middle. I close my eyes, and when I open them again, Christiano is standing right in front of me, a dark expression on his stupidly handsome face.
“Sienna?”
As I begin to shake my head and push away from the wall, I hear Mom say, “Please, let’s not do this now, Christiano. Sienna isn’t feeling well.”
Uncle Milo wraps an arm around me and hooks one under my knees, then the world tips as he picks me up.
He’s like a father to me, and feeling safe, I rest my head against his shoulder and let the medication take me into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 4
Christiano
Pissed off that I didn’t get to spend much time with Sienna at the wedding, I feel edgy as I sit in my best friend’s living room. The bourbon I just tossed down my throat doesn’t help at all.
Remo looks at me and lets out a sigh. “This can’t go on for much longer, brother.”
