Page 67 of Ruined By Blood
"You're someone who needs help," Lucrezia corrects gently. "And even if he's cautious, Damiano would never turn away someone who needs protection. Especially not after what happened to me."
She falls silent for a moment, and I wonder again what exactly happened three months ago. The same pain I've seen in Enzo's eyes flickers across her face before she masks it.
"Besides," she continues with a forced lightness, "my big brother is way worse than Enzo when it comes to the whole brooding, dangerous mafia man act."
I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "Worse than Enzo?"
Lucrezia laughs, the sound genuine this time. "Oh, absolutely. Damiano's the one who taught Enzo that murder glare. You should've seen him when he first met Zoe. All dark looks and intimidation tactics."
"And now?"
Her expression softens. "Now he's a complete teddy bear around her. It's actually hilarious. This man who makes hardened criminals shake in their boots will literally drop everything if Zoe calls. Last week she mentioned wanting strawberry gelato at midnight, and Damiano drove forty minutes to find a place that was open."
I try to reconcile this image with the stern, imposing man I'd seen. "That's... hard to imagine."
"Trust me, we tease him mercilessly about it." Lucrezia grins. "He still tries to look dangerous and intimidating in business meetings, but the minute Zoe walks into a room, he melts. Completely whipped, as Alessio would say."
The thought of these dangerous men having such ordinary, tender sides is strangely comforting. As if perhaps they're more human than the monsters I've known all my life.
I slip back into the bathroom to change, grateful for the moment of privacy. The clothes Zoe brought are simple but nice. I pick a soft pink sweater and black leggings, running my fingers over the fabric before putting them on.
"I brought enough for a few days," Zoe had said, placing a small stack of neatly folded clothes on the bed. "Underwear, socks, pajamas, some basics. I wasn't sure when you'd be able to get more, so I brought options."
I dress carefully, my body still aching from Jackson's blows. The leggings slide easily over my legs, and the sweater settles softly against my skin.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The bruise along my jaw has darkened into a purple-blue stain. My lip is still swollen where it split. But underneath all that, I look... different somehow. Like someone who might have choices.
Taking a deep breath, I open the bathroom door and freeze.
Enzo stands there in the bedroom, his tall frame tense as he talks with Lucrezia. His eyes instantly lock onto mine, and everything else in the room seems to fade away.
"Sienna," he says, my name coming out rough around the edges. He takes a half-step toward me before stopping, like he's not sure if approaching would frighten me.
I clutch the doorframe, suddenly needing the support. "Enzo."
"I should give you two a minute." Lucrezia says.
"I'll be right down the hall if you need anything," Lucrezia tells me, her meaning clear. If I need an escape from her brother.
When the door closes behind her, silence fills the room. Enzo stands completely still, watching me with an intensity that should be frightening but somehow isn't.
"How are you?" he finally asks, his voice quieter than I've ever heard it.
"Fine," I answer automatically, the lie so practiced it flows without thought.
One corner of his mouth twitches up, but there's no humor in it. "Try again."
I look down at my borrowed clothes, at my hands that won't stop trembling no matter how tightly I clench them. "I don't know how I am," I admit. "Alive. Which is... more than I expected when Jackson showed up."
He flinches slightly at Jackson's name, his jaw tightening.
"Jackson is no longer a concern," he says, the words flat and cold.
I should be horrified by the implication. Instead, relief washes through me so strongly my knees nearly buckle.
"Your wound," I say. "How bad is it?"
"It's nothing." His hand moves to the spot unconsciously. "A scratch."
