“John.”
“Yeah.”
“What I said remains the same, John.”
Siena was not usually so bold. Daring statements like those to a man like Johnathan could possibly get her in trouble, all things considered.
Still, she said it.
It had to be said.
He arched a brow. “Why did you call me the Johnathan Marcello earlier?”
Siena cleared her throat. “You’re a little infamous, aren’t you?”
“Me?”
“All the Marcellos, really.”
Johnathan nodded. “I suppose.”
Then, the bus came to another slow stop. Johnathan glanced out the window, and cussed before he stood up. His back was already turned to her, and he was heading for the door when he looked back over his shoulder.
All over again, with one single look, Siena’s heart thumped hard in her throat. A rhythm that intrigued and frightened her.
How did he do that by only staring?
Why couldn’t she control her own body?
“Maybe I’ll see you around, bella.”
Siena stilled.
He’d called her beautiful.
“Maybe,” she agreed.
Johnathan didn’t hear her.
He had already exited the bus.
“You’re late.”
Matteo’s voice boomed over the bustling Brooklyn restaurant. Siena’s father was a lot of things, but overwhelming was highest on the list. He towered over her mother who stood next to him at the table, and was wide enough that Siena’s arms couldn’t reach all the way around him when she hugged him.
“Traffic was bad,” Siena told him. “Hi, Dad.”
Matteo scowled at her when she stepped back. “Taking the bus again?”
“I like the bus. It’s … responsible.”
And it gives me a little less time with you.
She didn’t add that last part out loud.
Siena knew better.
“You have a brand new Lexus sitting in your apartment’s lot,” her father said, shaking his head full of dark brown hair, although it had started to thin a bit at the top. He didn’t like for anyone to point it out. “I bought you that car for you to do your business, and get to places on time, Siena.”