Page 77 of Passion and Revenge

“Are you afraid of me now, Sienna?”

CHAPTER 25

Sienna

The breath that leaves my mouth is shuddery, and the warning bells going off in my head are telling me to run for the door and not look back.

But the predatory look in Alessandro’s eyes tells me very clearly that if I try to run, he’s going to come after me, and all bets are off once he catches me.

And hewillcatch me.

I lick my lips nervously, and his gaze zeroes in on the movement, those blue eyes turning fiery as if he’s not wearing my ex-boyfriend’s blood and brain matter.

“No.” The words come out before I can stop them, and at that moment, I realize I’m not actually scared of him. He’s had endless opportunities to hurt me, and he never did.

Something like relief flashes through his eyes.

“Come here, baby.” His voice is gravelly, and my feet start moving my body toward him before the words even fully register in my head.

I’m like Icarus, helplessly drawn to the sun that is Alessandro Mancini. I can’t resist him even if I tried. And God, have I tried. These past few months without him, all I’ve done is try to erase him from my brain, all to no avail.

I even tried going on one disastrous date. I walked into the restaurant, took one look at my waiting date, who was nothing like this man standing before me, and then turned and hightailed it out of there as though my life depended on it.

Right now, Alessandro’s bloody hands come out and cup my jaw, and then he drags me forward until there’s barely any space between us. I can smell the coppery twang of blood, and I wait for the panic to come. But there’s no panic, just the overwhelming urge to fall into his arms and sob.

“Baby,” he rasps, his thumb sliding across my bottom lip.

I move to draw away, but his fingers dig into my hair and hold me in place. Firming my lips, I snap, “You tossed me away.”

“I know.”

“Why are you here? How did you know I was here?” I ask.

Those blue eyes haven’t moved away from my mouth yet. I can see the restraint in them, and a part of me wants to kick that restraint to the curb and take the choice away. Realistically, though, I know this discussion is important.

We can’t just pick up from right where we stopped because we’re just bound to circle back to the same dead end.

“Your father called me.”

My eyes widen. “D—Dad called you? Why didn’t he call the cops instead?”

He shrugs, and I glance over his shoulder at Salvadore’s unrecognizable body. A shudder rolls through me. “It’s probably a good thing he didn’t call the cops, considering it’s one of their own.”

“Hmm,” he hums.

“Why are you here, though?” I sneer. “Are you besties with Dad now? Should I be expecting you at lunch on Sunday?”

One large hand slides down to wrap lightly around my throat, and then he hauls me into his body. “I’m not here for your father. Make no mistake, there’s no love lost between us. I’m here for you. I’m here because I should never have let you go in the first place. I should have kept you in my bed, limp with orgasms and too sore to even crawl out of it.”

My body heats up, and I feel his hardness pressing against my stomach. This is disgusting, rubbing all over this man without a single care about the residues splattered all over him.

I should care more that Salvadore is lying a few feet behind us. I should feel some sadness over him. I may not have loved him, but I thought we’d eventually end up as good friends and laugh about our brief and stupid stint as a couple.

Am I so heartless?

“I’m not sad that he’s dead,” I confess. “I don’t know what I am, but I’m not sad.”

“What do you feel then?”

---