Page 11 of Passion and Revenge

I nudge her legs further apart and continue my relentless pace, making her body rock against the table.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Dayna exclaims.

For some reason, my gaze snaps back to Sienna. She’s staring right at me, or at least that’s what it feels like.

Her tongue swipes over her lower lip, and I come undone.

The orgasm that bursts through me causes me to blackout for a second as the whole world dissolves into a kaleidoscope of colors. When it all comes rushing back, Sienna has her back to me, and I wonder if I imagined all of it.

“Holy damn.” Dayna chuckles. “That was really something. I need a truckload of whatever drug you’re on.”

I don’t want to think about the fact that I had Ivan D’Addario’s daughter on my mind for those last few minutes.

CHAPTER 4

Sienna

Sweat beads down my back as my sneakers pound against the pavement, my arms pumping, and my breath coming out fast and shallow.

Rap music pounds through my earbuds as I fly down the nearly empty street.

Jogging is something I picked up years ago when I was bullied by my peers in high school because of my weight. Well, until I gained the confidence and stood up to them.

These days, I jog because it’s a habit and to burn off some restless energy. Even though Kat always says I need a different kind of cardio—one that has nothing to do with leaving my bed.

The stillness of the world around me makes me feel alive. To my side, the sun is just beginning to peek out from beneath clouds.

I breathe in the clean, early morning air and mouth along to the playing music.

My music cuts off abruptly when a call comes through. It could be one of two people, and since I know Kat would rather have a lobotomy than get up before the sun, I assume it’s my dad. I tap the button on the earbud to answer the call.

“Hey, Dad, I’m a?—”

“Darling,” a voice that doesn’t belong to my father drawls.

I come to a screeching halt. Dammit. Why didn’t I check who was calling first? On the short list of people I want to speak to, my ex doesn’t make the cut.

“Salvadore,” I say stiffly.

“You sound breathless,” the suspicion in his voice raises my hackles, and I grit my teeth.

There really has to be a way to drive the fact that we are no longer in a relationship home to him. In fact, he has no right over me anymore.

“Is there a reason for this call?” I hate being rude, but when it comes to Sal, any hint of niceness will make it seem like I’m open to giving us another try.

And God, the first try was a mistake that should have never even happened.

He lets out a sigh, and a bit of guilt hits me, but I quickly brush it away. I have nothing to be guilty about. I don’t owe Sal anything.

“You never pick up when I call, Si, and you don’t answer my voicemails.” His words come out as an accusation. “Luck must really be shining my way today.”

I bite my tongue against snapping at him that I didn’t pick up on purpose.

“I told you to stop calling me,” I grunt.

“Not until you hear me out.”

A headache begins to build in the center of my forehead, and I press my thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose. “There’s nothing left to say.” And nothing I want to hear either.

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