Page 20 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince

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 not always a 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.

Dario x

My heart flutters, and it’s like he’s here, wrapping his warm arms around me. I suddenly feel close to him.

The door opens. Rozaina–or Rosy, as she has asked me to call her–waves me in with a smile. “Lucky lady,” she says. “I’m jealous.”

“Do you mind if I set these down?”

“Sure.”

I place them near the window, then sit opposite her desk. She’s a tall, lean woman of around forty years, with long black hair and dark brown eyes.

“What can I help you with, Siena?”

I lean forward, resting my arms on the desk. I’ve never enjoyed confrontations or negotiations, but life can’t always be enjoyable.

“I want to know why so much is going wrong on this trip.”

She trembles, but tries to hide it. “Is it that bad?”

“The boat tour–vendor cancellations–and it’s more than that. It’s like everyone is scared to agree to do anything for me. Is something going on?”

She turns away, swallowing hard.

“You’re hiding something.”

“I never said that, Siena.”

“Rosy–you didn’t have to.”

“We’re doing our best to work with you.”

“Is it because I’m younger than Veronica? Is it a lack of respect?”

“No!” She looks mortified. “Absolutely not. We all think–no, know –that you’re doing an excellent job.”

“Then why so many roadblocks? Something as simple as ordering flowers, for example, shouldn’t take five phone calls and three trips to the vendor… with a follow-up trip just to make sure they’ve done as I’ve asked. Don’t you agree?”

I lower my voice, realizing I’m ranting at her.

Rosy sighs. “I think you should forget about this and do your best.”

“How can I forget about this and do my best? This is impeding me from doing my best!”

“Siena, please lower your voice.”

I almost don’t want to share my theory. Perhaps I’ll sound nuts. But too much is happening for this to be coincidental. “Is someone sabotaging this vow renewal?”

For a second, Rosy’s expression tells me everything I need to know. She even begins to nod… then catches herself. She stands, almost knocking over her chair. “I’m very busy. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Please…”

“Who is it? And why? It has to be a friend or acquaintance or even a family member of the Bianchis.”

“I have said nothing to encourage you in that direction.”

“You say that like you want it on the record. Like you’re scared, and you want to make it clear you’re not helping me.”

“Please, Siena.”

She practically shoves me out the door. I grab my flowers before she can kick me out.

I’m sick of this.

I march across the island to Dario’s hut. When I get to his door, I pull the flowers from the bouquet and scatter them across his door, tearing some petals for good measure.

There’s something he’s not telling me. Something more going on here.

As I return to work, my mind spins with theories. I’ve noticed Edoardo, Vittorio’s brother and Dario’s uncle, with a scowl on his face, sometimes looking at his brother like he’s angry. Could he be behind it, but why? I need to think about this.

I go to the artificial waterfall, checking the surrounding area, visualizing the party in my mind. As I go about my work, I can’t help but think of all the things that could go wrong.

About thirty minutes later, Naaif finds me again. With another bunch of flowers.

“Siena,” he says.

“Again?”

He grins. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

I take the flowers and read the message.

I can do this all day, beautiful . Dario x

A smile spreads across my face, and warmth swells inside me. That warmth: the Dario heat, specific to him, attacks not only my core but my heart too. Why does he have to be such an infuriatingly lovable douche?

Setting the flowers aside, I go on with my work, my mind whirring. I can’t stop thinking about the look on Rosy’s face.

When I’ve got time for a break, I carry the flowers across the island, back to my room. Dario has left the key under the mat for me. He’s already moved my stuff inside. I walk into the suite, feeling weirdly lonely. Which is silly. I stayed with Dario for one night.

Carrying the flowers outside my room, I look across the small pier at his door.

Would it be lame if I pulled the same thing again?

Does he deserve any better?

I walk up to his door, hesitate, then turn away.

Then I spot him at the end of the pier, his hands in his pockets. It’s difficult to be sure, but I think he’s smirking.