Page 79 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

All of them.

She didn’t entertain whispered gossip and stories. Not when it came from the mouths of men who would only say something behind someone’s back, and never to their face.

And that was enough for her.

Siena instantly slammed the cupboard doors, and stepped down from the chair. She did it without thinking, and never having touched one of the bottles.

A huge part of her felt like she had just betrayed Johnathan in some way, even though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. She hadn’t been snooping, and in fact, didn’t even leave the kitchen the entire time he had been gone except to use the bathroom once.

And yet, she still felt wrong.

Like she had done something wrong to him.

The purr of a Mercedes pulling in the driveway outside made her forget about it.

At least now for …

“Ease up on the pedal a bit,” Siena joked, “I’m not even late or anything.”

John’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel loosened ever so slightly. His gaze slipped to the clock on the dashboard, and the car slowed down subtly. “Yeah, sorry.”

Something in the lilt of his tone caught her attention. Siena looked at him, but John’s focus was only on the road ahead of him.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

John nodded. “Sure.”

“Really?”

The bobbing of his throat as he swallowed hard did not escape her notice. Neither did the way his fingers tightened around the wheel again like he needed something to keep hanging onto. All of it felt wrong to her.

She just didn’t know why.

“Did something happen?” Siena asked.

John chuckled. “Oh, something is always happening, dolcezza. Don’t worry about it.”

“You can tell me anything, if you want—”

“It’s fine,” he interjected quietly.

Siena let it drop.

What choice did she have at the moment?

“You sure we’re going to make it to the dealership in enough time?” he asked.

Siena settled in the passenger seat. He had already taken her to her apartment to change, and freshen up. “We have lots of time.”

She didn’t bother to mention she might be a little late. Thirty minutes, or so.

The phone in her purse was still silent, though. No calls or texts from her father or brothers. It was like—for once—they didn’t care at all that she was late.

Any other time, and her phone wouldn’t stop until she walked through the front door of whatever business she was supposed to be working in.

John cleared his throat, and said, “So, I never thought to ask before …”

“Hmm, what?”