Page 19 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I finish my last call with Damiano around four-thirty, rubbing my eyes as I disconnect.

Three hours on the phone between him, Alessio, and our contacts has left me with a throbbing headache and too many problems without solutions.

Sterling's search for his daughter has become more aggressive.

The bastard's even reached out to the Sartoris for information.

My jaw tightens. He won't find her. Not here. Not ever again.

I stretch, muscles protesting after being hunched over my laptop for too long.

Sienna told me she needed rest after our conversation about her father's true business.

The revelation that he traffics people seemed to hit her hard, though something in her eyes made me wonder if she already knew more than she let on.

The cabin's quiet as I head downstairs around five. The soft glow of a reading lamp draws me to the living room where I find her curled up on the sofa, legs tucked beneath her, head bent over a book. My mother's copy of "East of Eden."

I clear my throat, not wanting to startle her.

She looks up, and what happens next catches me completely off guard. She smiles—a real one that reaches her blue eyes, transforming her face entirely.

"Truth or dare?" she asks, her voice carrying a playful note I haven't heard before.

I laugh, the sound startling even to my own ears.

"Truth," I say, dropping into the armchair across from her. "Though I'm starting to think I'll regret this game."

Her fingers fiddle with the corner of the book's page, a habit I've noticed when she's thinking. "What's your favorite breakfast food?" she asks, her eyes studying me with unexpected warmth.

That's it?

I consider her words, leaning back in the chair. "Cornetto and espresso," I finally answer. "But when Ettore makes his lemon ricotta pancakes..." I close my eyes briefly, remembering the taste. "Those are worth killing for."

She marks her place in the book and sets it aside. "Your turn."

"Truth or dare?" I ask.

Sienna's fingers twist together in her lap, her eyes dropping briefly before meeting mine with a flash of determination.

"Dare," she answers, the single word hanging between us .

My heartbeat quickens. I hadn't expected that choice from her. She kept choosing truth so far.

"Kiss me," I say before I can think better of it.

Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. For a moment, I think she'll refuse or run. Instead, she looks down at her hands.

"I've never..." she begins, then stops. "I mean, not really." She looks up, vulnerability raw on her face. "You might be disappointed."

Of course she hasn't. Not after what she told me this morning.

My gaze drops to her lips—full and pink, slightly chapped from nervous biting. They remind me of ripe peaches, soft and sweet, untouched despite everything she's endured.

"If that's your only hesitation," I say, "I can show you how."

I wait, giving her space to refuse, to retreat. I've pushed too far, too fast—I know this. But I can't bring myself to take back the dare.

A blush blooms across her cheeks, spreading down her neck. She swallows hard, eyes darting to my mouth then away, but she doesn't move from the couch.

"Okay," she whispers.

The single word sends heat coursing through me.

"We don't have to," I offer, one last chance for her to back out.

"I know." Her voice is barely audible, but steady. "I want to."

I rise from the armchair, my movements slow and deliberate, giving her every opportunity to change her mind.

Sienna remains frozen on the couch, her hands gripping the edge of the cushion as I approach.

When I reach her, I don't sit, but kneel in front of her instead, bringing our faces level.

This way, I'm looking up at her rather than looming over her.

"I won't hurt you," I murmur, reaching up to touch her cheek with just my fingertips. "And we stop whenever you want."

She nods, her breath coming faster now. I cup her face gently, my thumb brushing across her lower lip. Her eyes flutter closed at my touch.

"Breathe, piccola," I whisper before leaning in.

Our lips meet, and fuck—her mouth is softer than I imagined, warm and hesitant against mine. I keep the kiss light, just a gentle pressure, giving her time to adjust to the sensation. Her inexperience is evident in the way she stays completely still, as if afraid to move.

I pull back slightly, our breath mingling in the space between us. "It's okay to kiss me back," I tell her.

When our lips connect again, something shifts.

She leans into me, her mouth moving tentatively against mine.

The innocent response ignites a hunger to take more, to claim her completely.

My hand slides to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair as I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips.

She gasps, providing the opening I need to taste her properly. I growl softly, something possessive awakening in me.

Mine .

The thought slams into me with unexpected force, and I force myself to pull back before I take this too far. Her eyes remain closed for a moment, lips still parted, cheeks flushed. When she finally looks at me, the vulnerability there stops my breath .

"Was that okay?" she asks, uncertainty clouding her expression.

I rest my forehead against hers, fighting for control. "More than okay, piccola."

She smiles then, a shy curve of her lips that makes my chest tighten.

I move back to my seat, needing distance before I do something we're not ready for. "Your turn," I say, my voice still not quite steady.

"Truth or dare?" she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Truth." I want to see what she's curious about, what she needs to know.

Sienna hesitates, her fingers returning to twist in her lap. Then she meets my gaze directly, surprising me with her courage.

"Have you ever hurt any woman in your life?" she asks. "Especially because of what you do?"

The question hits harder than I expected. Not because I don't have an answer, but because I understand why she needs to know.

"No," I say firmly, holding her gaze. "Never. It's against our code."

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "I've hurt people, Sienna. I'd be lying if I claimed otherwise." I take a breath. "The men I kill are in the same business I am. They know the risks, same as I do."

Her eyes search mine, looking for truth or deception.

"Truth or dare?" I ask, my voice rougher than intended.

She pulls her knees to her chest, making herself smaller. "Truth."

I consider what to ask, wanting to learn more about the woman behind those guarded eyes .

"What's a dream you have? Something you want to come true more than anything."

Her expression shifts, vulnerability replacing the flush of our kiss. She stares at her hands for so long I think she might not answer.

"I want to see my mother," she finally whispers. "Just for one minute. I want to hug her again." Her fingers twist together. "Just once more."

I remember she's mentioned her mother. The way her voice caught when I talked about mine.

"Where is she?" I ask gently.

Sienna shakes her head, eyes dropping to her lap. "It doesn't matter. It's impossible anyway."

I want to push, to ask if her mother is dead or just gone, but the pain etched across her face stops me. Some wounds are too fresh to prod.

"Nothing's impossible, piccola," I say instead.

She looks up. "Truth or dare?" she asks, changing the subject.

I should choose truth. Keep things simple. Safe.

"Dare."

A blush spreads across her cheeks as she gathers her courage. "Kiss me again."

My blood heats at her request. I stand, crossing the distance between us in two strides. This time, I sit beside her on the couch, turning to face her.

"You sure?" I ask, giving her one last chance to retreat.

She nods, eyes locked on mine with unexpected boldness.

I cup her face between my palms, my thumbs tracing her cheekbones. "Remember, you control this. We stop when you want to stop."

I lean in slowly, watching her eyes flutter closed just before our lips meet.

This time, there's less hesitation in her response.

Her mouth moves against mine with growing confidence, learning the rhythm of the kiss.

When my tongue seeks entrance, she opens for me with a soft sound that sends heat straight through my body.

My hand slides to her nape, fingers threading through silky hair as I deepen the kiss. She tastes like the tea she was drinking—sweet with a hint of cinnamon.

I pull back before I lose control completely, resting my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath.

"See?" I murmur, my voice husky. "I knew you couldn't resist my kisses."

Her startled laugh is like sunshine breaking through clouds—unexpected and warming everything it touches.

"You're very sure of yourself," she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling with her smile.

"I'm Italian. Confidence comes with the passport."

She laughs again, the sound lighter this time, less surprised. I find myself cataloging these moments—her real smile, her laugh, the way her eyes brighten when her guard drops.

I move back slightly, giving her space while keeping close enough that our knees touch. Her cheeks are still flushed, lips slightly swollen from our kiss.

M y thoughts scatter like wildfire after that second kiss. His lips were softer than they looked, gentle in a way that seems impossible for a man like him. The kiss lingers in my mouth long after we've pulled away.

I want more. The realization hits me with startling clarity.

"Your turn," Enzo says, his voice deeper than before. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I whisper, not ready to face another dare yet.

His eyes darken. "What are you thinking right now?"

Heat crawls up my neck. "That I liked it. The kiss."

"Which one?" A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

"Both. But especially the second one." My voice sounds strange to my own ears, breathless and wanting.

The game continues, questions and dares flowing between us.

Each round brings us closer, peeling away layers neither of us intended to shed.

It makes me feel... normal. Like a woman playing a silly game with a man she's attracted to, not a victim running for her life.

For these precious moments, I'm just Sienna—not Sterling's daughter, not damaged goods.

Am I attracted to him?

When did that happen?

"Truth or dare?" I ask when my turn comes again.

"Dare." His eyes challenge me, dark and intense.

My heart hammers against my ribs. I've never wanted someone to touch me before. With other men, I'd always disconnected, floating somewhere above my body while they took what they wanted. But now, my skin hums with awareness every time Enzo moves closer .

"I dare you to..." The words stick in my throat.

"Yes?" His gaze pins me in place, patient but hungry.

I take a deep breath. "I want you to touch me." The words tumble out before I can reconsider.

His expression shifts, surprise giving way to something darker, more intense. "Where?"

"Anywhere you want," I whisper.

He reaches forward slowly, giving me time to retreat. When his fingertips brush my cheek, I don't flinch. Instead, I lean into his touch like a cat seeking warmth.

"Your turn," he murmurs, his hand still cupping my face. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare." The word feels powerful on my tongue.

"Kiss me again." His voice is rough around the edges. "But only if you want to."

I do. I want to feel his mouth on mine, to taste him again. So I lean forward and press my lips to his, unpracticed but eager.

When we break apart, I'm breathing hard. Something new courses through my veins. Desire, untainted by fear or obligation.

My fingertips tingle with the urge to touch my cheek where his hand rested moments ago, to trace the warmth he left behind. I curl my fingers into my palm instead, afraid of revealing just how deeply his touch affected me.

"I should..." My voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. "I should go upstairs."

"Of course," he says, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. He leans back, giving me space, and the cool air that rushes between us is both relief and loss.

I stand on unsteady legs, wrapping my arms around myself as if I might fly apart otherwise.

The need for gentle contact burns through me, stronger than any hunger I've known.

I've spent years perfecting the art of disappearing when men touch me.

Mentally checking out, becoming numb. But with Enzo, I stay present.

I feel everything. And it terrifies me how much I want more.

"Sienna."

I pause, not trusting myself to look at him.

"I'll be here," he says quietly. "Whenever you want company."

The simple offer nearly breaks me. In my world, nothing comes without a price. Every touch, every moment of tenderness has always been a prelude to pain. But Enzo just waits, making no move to follow me, to claim what he hasn't been given.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words inadequate for the storm inside me.

I force myself to walk, not run, up the stairs. Each step takes me farther from him, but the ghost of his touch follows me like a shadow. By the time I reach the bedroom door, my hands are shaking.

Inside, I close the door and lean against it, finally allowing myself to brush my fingertips over my cheek.

The skin feels warm, sensitized. Nothing like the revulsion that usually follows a man's touch.

There's no need to scrub myself raw in the shower, no desperate urge to erase the memory of contact.

Instead, I want to preserve it.

I cross to the bed and sit on the edge, wrapped in confusion and longing.

For years, I've trained myself to be numb.

To survive. Now, feeling rushes back with such force that tears prick my eyes.

Not from pain or fear, but from the simple wonder of wanting to be touched by someone who doesn't make me want to vomit .

Is this how it's supposed to be? This warm, aching need? This hunger that doesn't feel like violation?

I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, my fingers still tracing patterns on my cheek where his hand rested.

For the first time in years, I feel something like hope.