Page 52 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
CHAPTER 19
SIENA
I’m walking to the resort manager’s office when my cell phone rings. It’s Dario.
“Hey,” I say, answering.
“I wanted to let you know I talked to my cousin. He’s staying in the suite opposite.”
“Okay…”
“He’s agreed to move into another room so that you can take it. That way, I’ll be able to keep an eye on you, just in case anyone tries any crap, but you’ll have your own space.”
I stop and lean against a palm tree. I’ve got no right to feel stung and rejected. This is what I wanted after all, isn’t it?
“Siena?”
“I’m here.”
“If I had my way, we’d share a room, but believe it or not, I’m notalwaysa selfish prick.”
“That’s, yeah, good. A good idea. I get you. It makes sense. It saves trying to live on top of each other.”
“I can call him back and say we’ve changed our minds. Trust me, I’d rather be roomies.”
“No, you’ve made your decision.”
“Siena—”
“I need to go. Thanks for telling me. Bye.”
I hang up before he can say anything else, feeling immature. I need to screw my head on. Instead, I text him.
Siena: That was good thinking, Dario. Thank you for that. A good middle ground. Sorry for hanging up. I’ve got a meeting.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid when telling him I needed to focus on my work. Now, as I keep walking, I’m not thinking about the manager or the resort or the vow renewal. I’m thinking about the fact that I won’t be spending another night with Dario.
Which is what I wanted.
Right?
Pushing that to the back of my mind, or trying to, I go to Rozaina Adam’s office. It’s at the back of the admin section. From the other side, I can hear her talking on the phone, but not the words.
I knock to let her know I’m here, and she calls out, “One minute!”
I pace as I wait.
A few moments later, a man approaches me wearing a resort uniform. I recognize him as Naaif, with a serene smile on his face despite his job as basically the island’s errand boy. He’s holding a bunch of flowers in his hand.
“Siena–these are for you.”
I immediately think of Dario, wondering if he’ll get jealous, which annoys me.
“They’re not from me,” he goes on, perhaps reading my expression. “I’m just bringing them to you.”
I take the flowers, a collection of all different colors, wild and beautiful. I read the notecard.
I know this is complicated, but I’m doing my best, Siena. Whatever else is true, you’re an amazing person, and I love how well you’re handling this.
