Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Sienna

S weat 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.

I can’t believe I’m still dealing with this. Why the hell had I ever gone out with this guy in the first place? I should have put my foot down when Dad was playing his matchmaking games.

“Can I take you to lunch today? Or dinner?”

I groan.

Sal is a good-looking guy—tall, well-built, and a cop with that boy-next-door charm that many women find attractive. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. At least, not anymore. I used to think I was.

But that was a while ago, back when I believed having a guy who was madly in love with me was enough reason to stay with him. I had this naive idea that I would eventually feel the same way.

Boy, was I wrong.

Our brief relationship felt like a chore, and I had to give myself a pep talk the two times we were intimate. Both times turned out to be very lackluster.

Not to say that my ex isn’t good in bed, though. I’m sure there are women out there whose worlds he’s capable of rocking.

Sal made love to me while I craved to be…devoured.

Right from the start, I’ve always known I don’t want the sweet, slow, respectful kind of sex—the vanilla kind described in some romance books. Even though I have no experience with it to speak of, I know I want something darker, more urgent, and all-consuming. The kind that is raw, wild, and animalistic. The kind I think about for days and leaves my body thoroughly sated and wrecked.

My throat tightens as the thought that has haunted me since my first time with Sal passes through my head.

What if I’m just broken? What if the monster from my past has ruined me? The monster who I let destroy any form of pleasure I could get from the normal kind of love everyone is so into these days.

I forcefully push the rest of the thought back into the box at the back of my mind, where dark thoughts are buried, and then continue pretending like that part of my past never happened.

“I’m busy today,” I lie.

I’m going to spend my day daydreaming about Vincent like I’ve done every moment since that night, wishing it had ended differently between us.

I was now rich, thanks to him, and didn’t need to start another painting right away. Not that I could even if I wanted to. Every time I put my brush to the canvas, thoughts of the blue-eyed man will assault me, and I’ll find myself sketching his hard jawline, his firm lips, or his strong hands.

“Busy?” His voice sharpens when he asks, “Doing what? With who?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I hiss.

“Cool your jets, Si,” he says in an annoyingly placating voice. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

I lean against the railing lining the bridge and snort. “I don’t need you looking out for me. I can look out for myself.”

The only person I need to look out for is you.

I don’t add that part, though.

“I know you’re capable and all, but I care, okay?” he says. “I love you, and that’s not going to change just because we broke up.”

Oh God, here we go again.

“Sal—”

“I know what you need is time and space to just think things through, and I’m trying to give you both.”

My spine stiffens. “I don’t need to think anything through. I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions and stick to them. Do you think I’m doing this to torture you or something? I didn’t break up with you because I was having double thoughts about our relationship and needed a break. I’m not on a break from you. Our relationship is over. And it’s because I came to the realization that I don’t love you, and I doubt I ever will.”

“You don’t know that.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Yes, I do.”

“You’re young and?—”

“So help me, God. Salvadore, if you complete that stupid sentence, I’m going to find you and kick you in the nuts.”

I’ve had just about enough of Sal. He always did this. Attributing my decisions, or lack thereof, to my age or inexperience in life. As though I was so incapable of knowing what I really wanted.

“You only respect my decisions when they favor you, and that’s an asshole move.” I continue, “Why is my ending things with you not as valid to you as me saying yes to you? If you think I’m so young and so fickle, you should never have accepted my decision to be with you either.”

I hear something crash on the other end of the phone. “Dammit, Sienna. Why won’t you ever just listen? This is what’s best for you! You think those assholes out there will be half as good to you as I was? Those imbeciles will just try to take advantage of you and hurt you, and it will break your father’s heart.”

The headache spreads to the side of my head, and I cup my head in my hands, massaging my temples. “You’re the asshole, Sal. Believe it or not. And honestly, I’m sick of you bringing my father into this. You know nothing about him?—”

“That’s nonsense,” he cut in. “Ivan and I?—”

“You know nothing, absolutely nothing, about him if you think he will ever put his personal desires over my happiness.”

Sal’s voice becomes soft and so fragile that it tugs at something in my heart. “Please, Si, I can make you happy. I’m going to do whatever you want and be better for you. I love you.”

Kat will go completely berserk when I tell her about this conversation. I’m tempted to just hang up. I don’t want to keep on going in circles with him because this is most definitely not going anywhere.

Thinking of my best friend succeeds in hardening my heart. “No, you can’t change, Sal. You couldn’t when we were together, and you wouldn’t be able to even if I gave you another shot. It’s not you?—”

He chuckles bitterly. “Don’t give me that cliché bullshit. I’ll respect you a little less.”

As if I gave two shits about my ex, of all people, respecting me.

“It’s me,” I say to complete the sentence, ignoring his irritated groan. “You’re wonderful, Sal. But you’re not what I want or need.”

“And what is it you think you need?”

I close my eyes for a moment, and Vincent’s face plays through my mind. I see him as clearly as that night, and a shiver ripples through me. The dark promise in his gaze, the seduction dripping from his every word and action, even the tiniest flicker of his hand. I see him smile at me, looking like sin wrapped in a gentleman’s suit.

Him.

I need Vincent.

And I know it’s crazy, but I’m long overdue for some crazy.

Sexual attraction is something that has eluded me since that awful incident years ago. With my ex, I couldn’t really tell if it was just him or if I was the problem, so I kept my mouth shut and told myself to fake it.

Why I think it’ll be different with Vincent, I have no idea. Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t go farther that night.

If I had disappointed him too, then I don’t think I’d be able to live with the knowledge that I’ve been broken for all men.

“Si?” Sal’s voice brings me back to reality—the glaring reality that Vincent is gone, and all I’ll ever have of him are memories.

I need him, but I can’t have him.

“Things you can’t give me.”

“I see.” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t see at all, and I decide I’m done with the conversation.

My morning run has been successfully ruined, all thanks to Sal.

“Goodbye, Sal.”

“I’ll call you later,” he says and hangs up.

My hands tighten around the plastic of my phone, and I want to bang my head against the nearest surface in frustration.

Spinning around, I begin the long walk home, my shoulders tight with tension. I’m no longer in the mood to run, but I know as soon as I’m cooped up back in my house, the restlessness will start driving me insane.

I decide to make a detour to my favorite cafe. I restart my playlist from the top, waiting in vain for the rap music to soothe me as it usually does.

Kat always makes a face whenever she hears songs from my playlist.

I gnaw at my lower lip, wondering if I should tell her about today’s episode. I love her, but she can be a tad irrational when it comes to Sal. What am I saying? She’s extremely irrational when it comes to him, and I don’t want to listen to hours of rants about how much of a manipulative dick he is.

Sal isn’t a bad person. A little bit controlling, perhaps, and can’t take a hint.

I let out a sigh and make the turn toward Chappelle’s. It’s a tiny, cute French cafe owned by an immigrant family on a street corner. My first attraction to it was the floral arrangement woven around the front arch, wildflowers in non-matching colors bursting out like the most chaotic piece of art.

The bell above the door tinkles as I walk in, and before I head to the counter, I sniff myself surreptitiously to make sure I don’t smell sweaty.

“Sienna!” Jean, the petite owner, waves at me excitedly. “My favorite customer.”

“I bet you say that to all your customers,” I tease.

She waves a hand in the air. “Do not accuse me of such falsehood. Your usual?”

“Please.” I smile gratefully. “And toss in any cookie you have available.”

She shoots me a thumbs up, and as I turn to find a seat, I bump right into a hard body. I make a startled sound as I lose my footing, and one of my earbuds goes flying out of my ear.

A strong hand wraps around my waist and rights me.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching and—” My words turn into a shocked gasp as I come face to face with the last person I would have expected. “V—Vincent,” I breathe.