Page 61 of Possessive Mafia Vows

The cop arches an eyebrow. “That’s very generous of him.”

I ignore the comment. “Will you question Sienna’s father?”

“I can’t disclose details of the investigation.” She flips her notepad shut and slips it back into her pocket. “If you remember anything else that might be relevant, here’s my number.” She hands me a business card. “Have you seen anyone loitering about while you’ve been in the gallery, Sienna?”

“Only the bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Frown lines crease her forehead.

Sienna scoffs in my direction. “Where is he when I need him, huh?”

“Okay, would someone like to explain what this is all about?” The notepad comes back out of the pocket.

“Someone has been having Sienna followed,” I explain. “I was concerned for her safety, so I had a member of my security team keeping an eye on her.”

“Where are they now?”

“Outside in the car. Sienna came with me from the Wraith.”

“That’s convenient too.” Sienna’s tone is dull as if she doesn’t like where her thoughts are leading. “Why didn’t you have someone watching the gallery?”

I sense the cop paying close attention, but I focus on Sienna. It suddenly feels as if the entire situation has been flipped on its head, all arrows pointing in my direction. “Because I was more worried about your safety. I never expected this to happen. Never in a million years.”

“Have you ever had a key to the gallery in your possession, sir?” I can’t see the cop’s notes, but it’s obvious that she has written down my name.

“No. I’ve been in Ireland for three months. I only got back last week.” I want to add that I shouldn’t have to justify my actions. I’m not the bad guy here.

But I keep it to myself.

“You could’ve set up this entire scenario.” Sienna appears to shrink away from me. “You wanted me to stay at the Wraith. You wanted me to believe that I was in danger.”

“Sienna.” I reach for her hand, but she snatches it away from me. “You’re upset. It’s understandable given the?—”

“Upset? No.” She shakes her head. “Upset doesn’t even come close to what I’m feeling right now.”

“I know. I wish that I could make it better, Sienna.” My chest is starting to feel tight, but I need to tell her how I feel before I use my inhaler. “You must know that I would never do this to you. When you’re hurt, I’m hurt. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. You believe that don’t you?”

I stepped back when she asked me to.

I gave her the chance to let me walk away, and she didn’t take it.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” I add. “You’re in shock, Sienna. Let me?—”

I don’t finish what I started. We all hear the commotion outside the entrance, and my gut clenches when I spot Nick Morris trying to convince the cop on the door to let him in.

“Nick?” Sienna spots him at the same time. But instead of ignoring his arrival, she tells the officer that she knows him.

“I came as soon as I heard.” Waved inside, he joins us with his cashmere coat buttoned up against the cold and his wide cheesy smile accentuating the movie star looks. His gaze takes in the ruined artwork and the chaos, and his shoulders slump theatrically. “What happened? Did they get away?”

Sienna is crying again.

Nick stands protectively beside her. My only consolation is that Sienna isn’t crying on his shoulder.

“How did you hear about it?” I demand. There were no reporters outside when I arrived with Sienna, and neither of us spoke to anyone else once the alarm was raised.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “A colleague saw the police cars parked outside the gallery and called me straight away.”

No mention of where he has been.

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