John + Siena: The Complete Duet

by Bethany-Kris

“Back to bread?”

  Both girls agreed.

  Siena made quick work of breaking the dough into three chunks. She passed a piece to Greta and Giulia before pushing the bowl of flour over, too.

  “Put a little on your hands, but not too much,” she said. “Keeps it from sticking. We’ll knead it a bit more, and then put them in bowls to rise for thirty minutes to an hour.”

  “Okay,” the girls echoed.

  Siena continued chatting with her half-sisters while they worked just to keep them occupied in a verbal way. At least then, she hoped their attention would not go back to darker places in their thoughts.

  Or … that was her hope.

  In the background of their work, the television played through breaking news on the major news network Siena liked to keep on daily. The news was always depressing, but in some ways, it also reminded her that her life could be a hell of a lot worse in ways.

  Unfortunately, she also kept it on for another reason. Her family—and John’s, at times—seemed to be the focus of New York related news a lot lately. Organized crime was making a comeback; not that it ever went away, the idiots. The streets were bloodier than ever between the crime families, and rivaled the Chicago War from two decades earlier.

  Attention was never good in their life.

  It hindered business.

  Siena slowed in her work as a shot of a street came into view on the television.

  “Some sort of explosive device was detonated on …”

  Siena blinked at the reporter’s words. Not because of what the woman said, but because of what she saw on the television. She recognized the street they were showing—a Brooklyn street full of small businesses. Mostly restaurants, but a few other vendors, too.

  And then the shot changed to a building. Windows blown out, and a door ripped off the hinges. The front charred from fire, and smoke still billowing out from the broken, gaping holes of the business.

  Explosive device.

  “A restaurant that was undergoing renovations and owned by—”

  “Darren,” Siena said quietly.

  Her sisters looked to her, and then back to the television screen. They, too, stopped in their work to take in what they were seeing on the news.

  The reporter continued talking. “Sources tell us prior to the incident, they had witnessed several men entering the restaurant at different times. The police have, so far, suggested it looked to be a meeting of sorts between the Calabrese and Marcello crime families. As you know, Gordon and Marney, there has been quite a bit of news about those families lately.”

  The shot switched back to the anchors at the station. A man and a woman with their makeup pressed with powder, and their hair perfectly coifed back with not a strand out of place. Siena always thought they looked sort of like dolls in a way.

  Fake, and unrealistic.

  Unmoving, and unfeeling.

  “We have reports of deaths on the scene, too, don’t we?” the woman asked.

  “At least two.”

  Siena held her breath.

  She wondered …

  She feared …

  Her hands started shaking against the counter top.

  Please give a name … please, please, please give a name, but don’t be his name. Don’t be John’s name. Give me a name.

  “Others were apprehended at the scene,” the reporter on location stated. “Of course, the police were unwilling to release the names, as they have not yet stated what or who was the cause of the explosion, but we did get word elsewhere of the names of suspects apprehended.”

  Siena gripped the edge of the countertop so tightly that her knuckles turned white from the pressure. She didn’t dare look away from the screen for fear she might miss something important. Her stomach had all but climbed up into her throat, while her heart had altogether stopped beating for the moment.

  “Several members of the Marcello family—Andino and Johnathan Marcello being the two most recognizable figures apprehended at the moment,” the reporter continued.

  Siena felt like her fucking knees gave out, though somehow, she managed to stay upright. Her stomach dropped back down into place while her heart began a slow beat once more.

  Not dead, not dead … not dead.

  Just in custody.

  A knock echoed on Siena’s apartment door, but she was only half paying attention at that point. It took Greta poking her in the shoulder when the knock echoed a second time for Siena to snap out of her daze.

  As she crossed the space to answer the door, she kept reminding herself that apprehended and in custody did not necessarily mean arrested. It simply meant they were with police, and likely being questioned.

  Was it good?

  Fuck no.

  It was still workable.

  This life taught her that.

  Siena was still looking over her shoulder at the television when she opened the door to her apartment. She didn’t even get the chance to turn around and greet whoever was at her door before a form flew at her.

  “You little bitch!”

  Siena first felt her mother’s fingernails rake down her face before Coraline slapped her. The surprise attack—and the sting of the pain—was enough to set her off-balance. Her vision swam as she put her hands up in front of her face to defend whatever might be coming next, but it did no good.

  Her mother hit her again.

  And then again.

  Unsteady from the surprise, Siena lost her footing as she quickly tried to back away from Coraline’s attack. Her back hit the floor hard enough to take her breath right out of her lungs, but she didn’t even have enough time to recover from that.

  “How dare you?” Coraline screeched.

  The sharp points of her mother’s heels hit her body. Her sides, and her temple.

  “Ma, stop!”

  “You knew, didn’t you? You knew what they were going to do! I warned you, Siena, I warned you!”

  Another kick landed to the side of Siena’s head.

  She was not a weak girl—not an incapable woman. She could and would defend herself, but something made her turn away from her mother’s attack, and simply protect herself instead of fighting back.

  Maybe because it was her mother. She had once loved his woman. She thought Coraline loved her, too.

  It was painful to be wrong.

  So very painful.

  “Stop!”

  “Leave her alone!”

  Greta and Giulia’s voices filtered through the ringing in Siena’s ears. That last kick to her head had done a number because her vision was fuzzy, and everything sounded like it was under water.

  Siena blinked in just enough time to see one of her half-sisters fly at Coraline. She wasn’t sure which one, but the other girl came right after her, too.

  Coraline landed on her back as she was shoved away from Siena’s prone form. It took another few seconds, and more shouting, before Siena finally gained enough of her bearings to try and move. She rolled over to her knees, and coughed painfully as she clutched her head.

  “Little whores,” Coraline spat, standing up slowly. “Just like your mother.”

  “Say that again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out,” Greta hissed.

  Siena looked to the side to see Greta wielding a knife. One of the kitchen knives Siena had used earlier for their lunch.

  “What are you going to do, little girl?” Coraline taunted. “Do you honestly think you could use that on me?”

  “Try me,” Greta urged right back.

  This was getting worse by the second.

  So bad.

  “Ma, leave,” Siena whispered.

  Goddamn.

  Her head pounded.

  It hurt … bad.

  “Leave,” Siena said louder. “Now!”

  Siena looked at the floor, and the lines of the hardwood seemed to swim. She only heard the slam of the apartment door before her sisters were at her side again.

  “It’s all right, it’s fine,” Siena tried
to assure them.

  Greta touched the side of Siena’s face, and her fingertips came back red. “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Giulia, get something frozen from the freezer for her head,” Greta barked.

  “Okay!”

  “I’m fine,” Siena said.

  Then, she promptly vomited all over the floor.

  Yeah, that wasn’t good.

  Greta made Siena look her in the eyes. “She kicked you really hard in the head. A lot. Maybe you should go to the—”

  No.

  She had to stay.

  What if John came?

  What if …

  “It’s fine,” Siena repeated.

  She was becoming a broken record.

  Greta frowned. “I’m sorry you don’t have a good ma, either.”

  Yeah.

  Siena was sorry for that, too.

  “There’s a phone under my bed in a box,” Siena said, struggling with every word. “A shoebox—it’s black, like the phone. There’s a contact. John. Just … call until he answers.”

  “John?”

  “John,” Siena echoed.

  And then everything went black.

  Siena was alternating between icing the lump on the side of her head, and pressing the frozen bag of mixed vegetables to her cheek where Coraline had scratched her viciously. The scratches felt like they were on fire whenever something cold wasn’t being pressed against them to level out the heat.

  At least, her vision had cleared and her head had stopped pounding. That only took a good six hours. She probably should have listened to Greta, and took the young girl’s advice to go to the hospital.

  Siena likely had a concussion, and needed to be looked at. Still, she stayed at her apartment. Neither Greta, nor Giulia left, either. In fact, they stayed right by Siena’s side the entire time to make sure she was okay. They wouldn’t let her sleep, or even close her eyes for more than a couple of seconds at a time.

  They were sweet girls.

  Good girls.

  They did not deserve the hell that had been brought down on their lives by their half-brothers. Siena was never more aware of that fact than now.

  “Greta?”

  “Hmm?”

  The girl looked over at Siena with worry creasing her brow. Siena instantly wanted to take that away. Greta was only seventeen. She didn’t need to be worrying herself with the problems of the adults around her.

  This life made girls grow up too early.

  It always did.

  “Ginevra is in Canada,” Siena said quietly.

  Greta stilled. “What?”

  “On the day she was supposed to get married, a gift was sent to her private room when it was just me and her in there. That was intentional—planned ahead of time. The gift was a letter with instructions, new identification documents, and a way to get out of the country.”

  Tears filled Greta’s eyes.

  Giulia had fallen asleep on the chair across from where they sat on the couch.

  “So, she’s okay?” Greta asked.

  “She is great,” Siena said, “as far as I know now. I haven’t gotten any information on her since she left. That was kind of the deal.”

  “Will she come back?”

  “Maybe.”

  “When could she come back?” Greta pressed.

  “When it’s safe.”

  When all the men threatening her safety and life are gone from this city. Siena didn’t say that out loud, though. She knew they were one step closer after today to finally getting Ginevra back to her younger sisters.

  Kev was gone.

  Darren … might be, too.

  Siena didn’t really know at this point. She had been watching the news, and waiting for any snippet of information that might give the names of the two men deceased from the explosion at the restaurant. Nothing had come up yet.

  Her mother had not come back for round two, thankfully, but that also meant she couldn’t get any information out of Coraline, either. The enforcer who had dropped the girls off earlier that day had yet to come back and get them.

  Siena figured that was because too much was going on outside of her apartment at the moment. A whole world of new trouble had just popped up for all the men of the Calabrese family, and it was all about damage control right now.

  They needed to get this situation under control before they even considered dealing with something less important. They had better things to deal with than two principessas who needed nothing more than to be returned to their aunt’s home.

  Greta and Giulia likely didn’t even mind.

  Neither did Siena.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you months ago,” Siena said softly.

  Greta shook her head fast, and wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms. “No, it’s okay. I understand, really. Thank—”

  The front door of Siena’s apartment opened with such force that it smashed into the wall. The noise made Siena jump, Greta duck, and woke a very confused Giulia up from her sleep.

  Jerking in surprise was not a good thing for Siena’s current state. Pain swelled in the side of her head all over again, and made her double over on the couch. She pressed the frozen bag of mixed vegetables harder to her temple in a shitty attempt to relieve some of the sudden pressure. Her stomach threatened to revolt all over again.

  “Oh, my God,” she groaned.

  “Siena? Shit … babe.”

  John’s voice was the only thing that felt remotely good in that moment. Siena didn’t even have time to lift her head up before he was in front of her. Kneeling down, his hands found her thighs, and his gaze locked on hers.

  Warm hazel.

  True love.

  Calm and beautiful.

  For a second, her vision focused, and Siena was good again. At least, for a moment.

  “Don’t move,” she told him.

  John’s brow furrowed. “Why would I move?”

  “Just … don’t. If you move, I might get dizzy again, and I don’t want to puke.”

  “What happened?”

  His harsh demand made her flinch. He didn’t miss it.

  “Shit, sorry. Sorry, babe. I would have been here sooner after I got the messages on my phone, but I wasn’t even given my phone until they released me once my attorney got there. Here, let me look at you.”

  Soft fingertips drifted over her face. The sensation was such a stark contrast to the pain and heat coursing through her head. He peeled her fingers away from her cheek, and then convinced her to drop the frozen bag, too.

  Siena watched John’s gaze drift over her face, and injuries. His fingers followed the same path—careful not to press too hard, or hurt her as he checked her out. As the silent seconds ticked on, she could plainly see his rage growing.

  He hid it, sure.

  She still saw it.

  “What happened?” he asked one more time.

  Calmer.

  Quieter.

  Still as stone.

  “It’s okay,” she told him.

  John made a grunt under his breath—dismissive, yet heated. “Nope. Try again.”

  “Her mom,” Greta said. “She came over, yelled at Siena, and hurt her.”

  John’s gaze darted to the girl beside Siena. “And who are you?”

  “One of Matteo’s other daughters,” Siena muttered.

  To his credit, John didn’t blink a lash at that. Nor did he out the fact he had been the one to take Greta’s beloved father away, either.

  “Well … hello,” John said. “You were the one that called me?”

  Greta nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  “Siena looks after us,” Greta said as though that explained her loyalty.

  “Who are you?” Giulia asked.

  John glanced over his shoulder at the girl. “Johnathan.”

  “Johnathan who?”

  “Marcello.”

  The two girls passed looks betw
een one another like that explained everything. Their silent conversations could sometimes be annoying, but in that moment, Siena had other things to focus on.

  John, mostly.

  Always John.

  His hands cupped her face, and he brought her in closer. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and a tear escaped the corner of Siena’s eye. He made quick work of wiping it away, though.

  “I saw the news,” Siena whispered.

  John nodded. “It went well.”

  “Could have told me.”

  “This wasn’t really my show. More … Andino’s.”

  Siena nodded once. “Oh, I see.”

  “Your head has one hell of a knot on it, and those scratches look really bad.” John looked her injuries over again. “I don’t like the looks of this—you should go get checked out.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.”

  “I am.”

  “Siena, I am taking you to—”

  “I can’t leave, John,” she said. “I don’t have an enforcer with me, and it’ll only cause problems. I wanted you here because I was scared.”

  A small smile edged at the corner of John’s lips. “You can do whatever the fuck you want to do. Don’t you realize what happened today?”

  “A lot happened.”

  And she was still trying to figure it all out. She supposed her scrambled head wasn’t really helping her case at the moment.

  “Darren is as good as dead, Siena,” John murmured, holding her face so she couldn’t look away from him. “The cops let it slip when they were hounding me—he’s on life support until someone pulls the plug, and he’s not coming out of it. This is almost over. We’re so fucking close, love.”

  A small swell of relief threatened to drown Siena.

  Reality was a quick bitch, too.

  Darren wasn’t dead.

  Not entirely.

  Not yet …

  “Everything is going to change,” John said. “Starting now. I promise.”

  Siena stared down at the prone form resting in the hospital bed. Monitors beeped, displaying heart rate, oxygen levels, and a non-existent brain function. Stiff, white blankets that had been warmed before being brought in were tucked firmly around Darren’s form.

  According to the nurse, the blankets were new. Over seventy percent of Darren’s body had suffered severe burns in the blast, and being covered was typically considered a major no-no. However, the lack of brain function, and the stress his body was under meant Darren had not been placed on the burn victim ward.