Page 27 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I head out of Damiano's office, my mind spinning with plans.

"Enzo."

Damiano's voice stops me at the door. I turn to find his expression uncharacteristically soft.

"We'll handle this tomorrow night. Family dinner first. Strategy after. Go get some rest."

I nod, knowing he's right. Exhaustion pulls at me, the adrenaline from the cabin attack finally wearing off. My knife wound throbs beneath the butterfly closures.

"You look like shit," he adds.

"Fuck you too."

The mansion is quiet as I make my way down to the kitchen. Ettore is hunched over the counter, carefully arranging something on a tray. He looks up when I enter, his blue eyes assessing me.

"I made something light for the signorina. And you." He gestures to the tray loaded with two bowls of pasta fagioli, warm bread, and a carafe of water. "Simple food heals the soul."

"Since when are you a philosopher?" I ask, but take the tray with a nod of thanks.

"Since always. You just never listen." He wipes his hands on his apron. "The girl. She needs more than food."

I stiffen. "I know."

"Good." He turns back to his stove. "Now go. Food gets cold."

The walk to Sienna's room feels longer than usual, my body finally admitting the punishment it's taken. I balance the tray on one arm to open her door, slipping inside quietly.

The room is dim, just the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminating her sleeping form.

Sienna lies curled on her side, her hair spilling across the pillow.

In sleep, the tension has left her face, making her look impossibly young and vulnerable.

The bruise from Jackson's strike has darkened along her cheekbone.

I place the tray on the dresser, careful not to make noise. Watching her breathe.

My gaze traces the delicate line of her throat, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Even marked by that bastard's hand, she looks peaceful for the first time since I found her.

My fists clench involuntarily, fingernails digging into my palms until the sharp pain brings focus. Violence won't help her right now.

I watch Sienna stir, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek. Her eyes open slowly, unfocused at first, then widening as she registers my presence.

"You're still here," she whispers, voice raspy from sleep.

"I brought food." I gesture to the tray. "Ettore's soup. Guaranteed to make you feel human again."

She pushes herself up, wincing slightly. I move to help but stop myself, giving her space to find her own balance. When she glances at the tray, something in her expression shifts.

"Two bowls?"

"I thought you might want company."

A small smile touches her lips. "Thank you."

I bring the tray over as she adjusts the pillows behind her back. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the warmth of the soup filling the space between us. I watch her hands grip the spoon, steadier now than earlier.

"Enzo?" She sets her spoon down, eyes meeting mine. "Is there anything I can do to help? With what happens next, I mean."

The question catches me off guard. Of all the things I expected her to say, offering help wasn't one of them.

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. I soften my tone. "No, piccola. This isn't something you need to involve yourself in."

Her brow furrows. "But it's about me."

"Exactly why you stay clear of it." I set my bowl down. "You've been through enough. Your job now is to heal."

"But—"

"There's no discussion here, Sienna." I stand, needing distance from the determination in her eyes. "These men have hurt you enough. I'm not giving them another chance."

She looks away, fingers twisting in the bedsheet. I can see the frustration in the set of her jaw, the way she holds herself rigid against the pillows.

"I should let you rest," I say, taking the tray.

I head for the door, my hand on the knob when something catches my eye. The vase of fresh flowers Ginerva placed earlier sits on the dresser—roses in full bloom. I pause, looking back at Sienna's downcast face.

"Wait here."

I set the tray down and step out, returning moments later with a single rose plucked from the arrangement. The deep crimson petals are fully open, rich with scent.

Sienna looks up, confusion replacing her disappointment as I approach the bed. I hold the rose out, twirling it slowly between my fingers.

"What's this?" she asks, eyeing the flower with suspicion.

"What does it look like?"

Her eyes narrow. "Is that... for me?"

I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "No, it's for someone else. I just thought you'd like to see it first."

"Oh." Her face falls for a fraction of a second before she catches my expression. "You're teasing me."

"Am I?"

"You are." A challenge enters her voice. "Who's it really for?"

I sit on the edge of the bed, close enough that I can see the flecks of darker blue in her eyes. "Maybe I'm asking the rose for forgiveness."

"For what?"

"For stealing it from Ginerva's arrangement." I offer it to her again. "Or maybe I just thought you deserved something beautiful after everything that's happened."

Her fingers brush against mine as she takes the rose, her touch featherlight. She brings it to her face, inhaling its scent, eyes closing briefly.

"Thank you," she whispers.

When she looks up at me, her blue eyes shimmer with unshed tears. Before I can speak, Sienna leans forward, closing the distance between us, her lips pressing against mine.

The rose falls forgotten between us as her hands clutch at my shirt, tears spilling onto her cheeks. She kisses me with desperation, with relief, with something I don't dare name. I taste salt on her lips as her tears reach our mouths.

I pull back just enough to look at her, my thumb brushing away the wetness on her cheek. "Piccola," I whisper, studying her face, the vulnerability there striking something deep in my chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, cheeks flushed. "I just?—"

"Don't apologize." My voice drops lower. "I'm here for you now Sienna. I will keep you safe. I promise."

She shivers at my words, her eyes searching my face.

"But I need you to understand something," I continue, cupping her face in my hands. "I'll protect you from anyone who tries to hurt you. Even from myself, if necessary."

Her brow furrows. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"Not intentionally. Never intentionally." I stroke her cheek with my thumb. "But this world I live in… it's not gentle. And neither am I."

"You've been gentle with me," she counters, leaning into my touch.

"Because you deserve gentleness." I watch her carefully, needing her to understand. "You deserve to feel safe, Sienna. Always."

The tension in her shoulders eases, and she nods slowly. "Thank you," she whispers. "For everything. "

I can't resist her any longer. I capture her mouth again, slower this time, deliberate. I taste her, explore her, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opens for me with a soft sigh.

Heat rushes through me as she responds, her body melting against mine. My control slips, desire building with each of her small gasps. I'm painfully hard now, my body betraying how much I want her.

"Fuck, Sienna," I breathe against her mouth. "I want you so badly."

She gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders. A soft moan escapes her as my hand slides to her waist, drawing her closer.

"Enzo," she breathes, her voice trembling with desire that matches my own.

E nzo's lips capture mine, igniting something wild and unfamiliar inside me. Every nerve ending sparks to life, his touch awakening my body in ways I've never experienced. This isn't the rehearsed compliance I've known before—this is something else entirely.

His hand at my waist. I arch into his touch instinctively, surprised by my own boldness.

"Sienna," he groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me .

Heat pools low in my belly, a strange ache building between my thighs. I'm growing wet, my body responding with a mind of its own. The sensation is foreign yet welcome.

I gasp when his tongue slides against mine, the intimacy of it shocking and thrilling at once. My hands clutch at his shoulders, needing him closer though I don't fully understand what I'm asking for.

His fingers thread through my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth traces a path down my throat. Each press of his lips sends shivers through me. When he reaches the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, my entire body trembles.

"God, the sounds you make," Enzo murmurs against my skin.

I hadn't realized I was making sounds at all.

His hand slides up my side, thumb grazing the underside of my breast through my sweater. The touch, even through fabric, makes me whimper. I feel his smile against my neck before his mouth returns to mine, hungrier now.

The weight of his body presses me back against the pillows, and I welcome it.

Suddenly, Enzo pulls away, breathing hard. His eyes have darkened to near-black, pupils blown wide with desire. He looks almost pained as he creates space between us.

"We need to stop," he says, voice strained.

The loss of his warmth feels like physical pain. "Why?"

"Because if we don't stop now, piccola, I won't be able to stop at all."

The raw honesty in his voice sends another rush of heat through me. My body pulses with unfamiliar need, demanding satisfaction I've never sought before .

"What if..." I swallow hard, gathering courage. "What if I don't want you to stop?"

Enzo closes his eyes briefly, as if my words physically hurt him. When he opens them, the intensity of his gaze pins me in place.

"You don't know what you're asking for."

"I'm asking for you," I whisper, surprising myself with my boldness. "I want this. I want you."

His eyes search mine, looking for hesitation or fear. "This isn't something to rush into, Sienna. Not after everything you've been through."