“Thistable?”
He nodded. “They always fed us. Always. They doted on us. I started helping out, mostly because I was bored, but also as a thank you. When I was twelve, and my brother was old enoughto watch the younger ones, they offered me a job in the kitchen, strictly off the books.”
She didn’t like to imagine Elio or his younger siblings and cousin as children, but couldn’t stop the image forming of four orphaned children sitting around this table, their little legs dangling on the chairs they sat on, waiting for the only adult left in their lives to finish working.
It was an image that made her heart twist painfully.
At twelve, Siena had been collected from school by her mother and driven home by one of the men who worked for them, and then fed a snack by the chef they employed. She would do her homework or go for a swim in their pool or, if Gabriella or another friend had come home with her, sit in her room and listen to music, paint their faces with makeup and talk about boys.
She’d never known a day of suffering. Not until she was fourteen. Compared to what Elio and his siblings and cousin had lived through, her suffering had been nothing. Less than nothing.
He wasn’t that child any more, she reminded herself. She was no more responsible for his suffering than he had been, but it was her he’d chosen to exact his vengeance on.
“What did you do for them?” she asked, keeping her voice steady. This was the closest they’d come to being cordial with each other, and while she’d prefer not to have to talk to him at all, she was curious about him. Elio, it seemed, knew everything about her and her life, whereas she knew him only by reputation.
She’d known him by reputation long before her brothers had, but even that had only been his reputation with women. She’d sensed the threat he posed, but had underestimated how great that threat was.
“Pot washing, unloading deliveries, that kind of thing,” he answered. “But over time they trained me on everything.”
“Even cooking?”
“My carbonara will never be as good as Rocco’s, but I learned from the best and can feed myself.” His stare became speculative. “Maybe one day I will cook for you.”
She gave a quick smile to hide the fact that the thought of Elio cooking for her made her feel more disjointed than she already was. “As long as you don’t expect me to return the favour. I don’t know one end of a cooker from the other.”
The eyes that frightened and fascinated her gleamed. “You can pay me back in other ways.”
Knowing exactly what he was insinuating, she drank more of her water, and was immensely grateful when Carlo chose that moment to clear their table
Every reminder of sex was a reminder of what she would have to endure only hours from now.
The number one thing she had to pull off was not giving away her inexperience. She just could not bear to think what would happen if Elio learned she’d never been with a man. If he’d wanted to break Francesca, a woman who’d never even been on his radar until presented with a list of female cousins to choose from, then God alone knew what he would do to Siena if he knew she was a virgin too.
She wished there was someone she could talk to about it, but there was no one. Her mother would tell her to close her eyes and get on with it as she’d done with Siena’s father. Her brothers… Well, they were men, and just like their father and Elio, were pigs who treated women like shit. Rico and Tommaso might now be married, but before they’d fallen in love, they were pigs. All men were pigs.
For a fleeting, painful moment, she wished she could call Gabriella. She might not have advice on how to have sex without giving away your virginity, but she’d have made Siena feel better in herself about what she must endure. She missed her so badly.
There was no one she trusted to turn to. Everyone else thought she was her persona: a sexy, confident, rich young woman who was friendly until you crossed her and who put family and loyalty above everything else. Shewasall those things, but her perceived sexiness came from the looks and figure she’d long thought more of a curse than a blessing.
By the time Carlo brought the bowls of carbonara to them, her stomach had reknotted itself so tightly her appetite had disappeared to wherever it had been hidden before. Because Carlo was awaiting her reaction, she forced a forkful into her mouth, telling herself shemusteat at least half of it if she didn’t want to insult him.
It was every bit as delicious as Elio had promised, and as she swallowed, the strangest thing happened. If food could give you a hug, that’s what this carbonara was doing. Awed, she met Carlo’s watchful stare.
He smiled, and for another fleeting, painful moment, she wished she could jump off her chair and wrap her arms around him, and experience a hug she knew would be every bit as comforting as the food he’d just served her.
* * *
Elio watched Siena eat every last scrap of her carbonara with the strangest sensation in his chest. Whether it was because eating was one of the most natural acts in the animal kingdom, as necessary for survival as water and breathable air, or the wistfulness he thought he’d caught in her eyes, he didn’t know. He just knew it was a sensation he despised.
So what if she needed to eat and drink and inhale breathable air to survive? So what if it made her as fragile and vulnerable as every other human who walked this earth? His parents and allthe other people he’d lost at the hands and behest of her father had been fragile and vulnerable too.
Of all the Esposito offspring, Siena was the only one who could have turned her back on their shadowed world without consequence. She could have lived her life in the lap of luxury, funded through it, but never expected to be a part of it. She’d forced her way into it. Demanded it. This was the life that she had chosen, knowing all it entailed, and she’d fully embraced it. Relished it. Thrived in it. If she recognised someone as a threat, there was no question she would give the order to have that threat taken care of.
If the Espositos had had an inkling of the threat Elio would one day be to them, Siena would have given the order to have him taken care of without even blinking, and he must not let any human vulnerability she possessed override the knowledge of her true nature. Her father hadn’t given a shit about his parents’ humanity, and they’d posed no threat to him. She wouldn’t have given a shit about them either.
She might smell of marshmallows and taste of sweetness itself, but Siena was poison.
Soon, very soon, Elio would feast on her venom and know her father was watching his princess debase herself on the son of his enemy. To really twist the knife, her father would know she was enjoying it.
