Page 85 of Scorching Sienna

It's like watching the devil frolic in heaven.

The truth of that is now even more apparent after our conversation last night. Those hands have killed—the same hands touching those little beings. I should feel repulsed, but as with all the red flag emotions that should be there with Damon, that feeling is missing in action. They have been from the beginning. The truth of his words and the fact that I knew he was a bad man from the start make me sigh out loud. I knew. Saying otherwise would be a blatant lie.

“You can talk to me, Si.” Dee brings her board and places it next to me, three uncut tomatoes nearly rolling off.

“What’s wrong?” I look up at her, her brow furrowed as she waits patiently for me to open up to her. We used to talk all the time. But since James died, our relationship has changed. I didn’t want to burden her with my negative emotions and feelings, not when she had so much on her plate with the little ones. She still does. Those terrorists are the quietest I have seen them. Usually, they run around, causing chaos, and it takes both her and Liam to keep them in check.

I hesitate, wondering how I would go about telling her that she has a murderer in her house. That his metaphorical blood-covered hands are gentling her little ones into submission. How I would tell her that I am in love with said killer and he was not only in love with me but obsessed.

His words from last night were overwhelming and confusing. My moral stance on his actions was insufficient to prevent me from wanting Damon. It should be, but truthfully, it wasn’t.

Because I am in love with him.

“I’m in love with him.” That’s what comes out of my mouth.

Dee’s frown transforms, and slowly, a smile spreads across her face.

“I’m so happy for you, Si.” My lack of enthusiasm slowly stealsher smile until she is frowning again.

“Are we not happy about this?” she asks, hesitating before she speaks again. “Is it because of James? You know you have nothing to feel guilty about.” The very fact that this no longer plays a part in my feelings ignites that feeling, the irony not lost on me.

“It’s not that.” I chew on my lip, trying to figure out how to voice my concerns without giving too much away.

“If you’re worried about how he feels about you, don’t be. I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way Damon looks at you. It's straight out of a romance novel. It’s downright feral. Raw even. I can tell he is guarded, and I doubt many really know him. But when he looks at you, that wall drops, and everything he feels for you is visible. It's like looking at another man. He would do anything for you. Anything. Even die for you if it came down to it.”

She lifts her eyebrows and dips her head towards the outside area, and when I look over, dark chocolate eyes lock with mine. I can see what Dee means. I can feel what Dee means. The shiver that runs down my spine, the speeding up of my heart, and the sudden dryness of my mouth. He impacts me as much as I affect him.

“What did I tell you? Hot. I'm surprised he hasn’t scorched you to nothingness with that gaze.” Dee chuckles, resuming her chopping.

I blush the same shade as the tomatoes, making Damon smirk before I finally look away. I swear he can hear us even from his spot outside.

“I know he loves me. He told me last night. It’s just…” I look at her, trying and failing to get the words past my lips.

“It's because of who he is?” If it weren’t for my forehead, my eyebrows would be at the back of my head.

“You know who he is?” I had just learned who he was, so Iwondered how she did.

“Honestly, I wish I didn’t know the name Damon Deangelo, and only because it is linked to a part of my past I wish never happened.”

Her voice is filled with so much hurt, and her eyes are glassy with emotion. I wait, not wanting to rush her but curious as hell how these two opposites in every way are connected.

Dee is the sweetest person I know. Kind, caring, compassionate. She never raises her voice, even with the kids, and always looks after them and my brother like they are treasures she needs to protect. I can’t imagine any darkness in her past. Was I that bad at reading people?

“Right after my parents died when I was ten, I was placed in an orphanage. A nice one, just on the other side of town.” She looks down, taking a tomato and slowly slicing into it as she talks.

This was the first time she spoke of her past. I’d never heard her mention her parents or any family before. At their wedding, she had no family present—only a handful of friends. I thought it was strange but never mentioned it, thinking perhaps she had a fallout with them. This is the first I know that both her parents are dead.

“One day, a viewing day, a rich middle-aged couple came to the orphanage, looking to adopt three children. Two girls and a boy. Over the age of ten, which I was at that time. I was so excited. Usually, the people who came wanted to adopt babies or toddlers. So I put on my best yellow sundress and combed my hair until it was shiny, hoping to be picked. Hoping to be part of a family again.” Her voice is so sad that I palm my chest, my empathy once again overwhelming me. It was like I could feel how she felt.

“I was so excited when they picked me. Me, Raina, and Marcel. They promised us things beyond our wildest twelve-year-old imaginations. All the other kids at the orphanage were so jealous. We couldn't believe our luck when we pulled up to the massive mansion we would call home. How naïve we were.”

A teartrickles down her cheek and drips onto her arm.

“As soon as we stepped foot into that mansion, things changed. Gone were the charming smiles on their faces. Instead, I saw the true face of evil. It lived in these people and what they did to us, Sienna.” Her voice breaks, and I can't help the tear that slips from my lid in response to the many others pouring down her face.

“I have not spoken of it to anyone. Not even your brother.” She daps her face and then composes herself.

“I ran away when I was sixteen—ended up on the streets. But that was better than the House of Horrors. When I turned eighteen, the money in the trust fund my parents set up for me became available, and that’s when my life turned around. I bought a small flat. I attended college and found a good job at your brother's firm. That’s how we met. Years later, I saw an article in the newspaper. ‘Prominent couple slaughtered.’ Their genitals were mutilated, and they had been tortured. They suffered. Terribly.”

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