“Caruso.”
“Put my daughter on,” he demands immediately. “I want to speak to Sienna.”
I nod at Eleonora. She leans forward, her expression shifting instantly, softer, more vulnerable. Her voice changes completely when she speaks.
“Papa…?” The tremble in her voice is perfect. “Papa, it’s me. Sienna.”
Massimo’s tone shifts. “Sienna. How are you? Did that bastard hurt you?”
Eleonora’s eyes fill with tears on command. Her voice cracks beautifully as she starts crying. “Papa, please… please save us. I’m so scared. He’s terrifying. Please just do whatever he wants and get us out of here. We want to come home?—”
“Stop that crying!” Massimo snaps viciously. “Don’t show weakness! Don’t let him see you weak!”
He must think I’m not listening.
“This is all your fault,” he continues, “yours and Eleonora’s. If you two idiots hadn’t wasted time fixing that stupid dress and had just gone straight into the church like you were supposed to, none of this would’ve happened!”
I stare at the phone, stunned. He’s blaming them. His own daughters. For getting kidnapped. What kind of piece-of-shit father does that?
Eleonora flinches like she’s been slapped, but she keeps playing the part until Massimo demands, “Give the phone to Eleonora.”
She switches seamlessly, her voice returning to its normal strength and fire. “Papa, it’s me.”
Massimo barely acknowledges her before launching into another tirade, telling her it’s all her fault that she and her sisters have been kidnapped. I’ve heard enough.
I snatch the phone off speaker and press it to my ear. “You’ve spoken to both your daughters,” I say coldly. “Now you’d better start meeting my demands if you ever want to see them again.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your word once I give you what you want?” Massimo growls. “How about you release one of them as a show of good faith? Release Sienna to me, keep Eleonora and we can negotiate.”
I let out a low, dangerous laugh. “You must think I was born yesterday, Caruso. Do exactly as you’re told, or I’ll start sending your daughters back to you piece by piece. ”
I end the call before he can respond, and silence settles over the room.
Massimo doesn’t give a damn about Eleonora. The man barely asked about her during the call. His only real concern was Sienna, the daughter tied to the Gallo alliance, the one who could still salvage his precious shipping deal.
Even then, I’m not convinced he truly cares about Sienna herself. The way he spoke, it wasn’t the fear of a father worried about losing his child. It was the panic of a businessman whose transaction was falling apart.
I look across the desk at her. She’s sitting very still, jaw tight, eyes glassy with barely-contained hurt.
And I hate how much I want to pull her across this desk and tell her that her father is a worthless piece of shit who doesn’t deserve her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Eleonora
I shouldn’t be surprised.
This is classic Massimo Caruso behavior, always selfish and finding a way to blame his daughters when things go wrong. But it still hurts.
How is any of this my fault? I was inside the wedding perimeter, surrounded by his so-called elite security. Instead of ripping into his incompetent men for letting me get taken, he spent the entire phone call snarling at me like I’d chosen to be kidnapped just to ruin his precious alliance.
And even then, it wasn’t really about me. It was about Sienna. About the disruption to his plans. The great Massimo Caruso doesn’t care that the elder daughter is locked away with a rival, he only cares that the daughter he was trying to sell is no longer available for delivery.
I stand in front of the vanity mirror in the bathroom, staring at my reflection. Nico brought me back here right after the call and locked the door like always.
My cheek still has a smear of dried blood across it, from his knuckles when he brushed them across my cheek earlier. It’s flaky now, brownish-red against my skin. It's another man's blood, and I'm supposed to be repelled by the sight. But I'm not. Something is definitely wrong with me.
I wet a cloth under the faucet and start wiping it away. The water runs slightly pink as I clean my whole face, slow and methodical, trying to scrub the day off me.
