Page 80 of Ruined By Blood
"Pancakes?" she suggests quietly.
"Pancakes it is." I run a thumb across her knuckles before releasing her hand.
While Ettore prepares breakfast, I pour us each a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar to hers. The domestic simplicity of the moment strikes me as surreal – Enzo Feretti, the feared capo of the Feretti family, making coffee for a woman in his kitchen.
"I have some work to handle this morning," I tell her, placing the mug in front of her. "Papers to sign, calls to return. Nothing that will take me out of the house."
Her eyes flick up to mine. "Is it about my father?"
I consider lying to protect her, but she deserves the truth. "Some of it, yes. Damiano has been handling most of the business while I was with you at the cabin."
Ettore places a stack of pancakes in front of Sienna, expertly topped with fresh berries and a light dusting of powdered sugar. For me, he delivers a spinach and feta omelet.
"Thank you," Sienna tells him with a small smile that makes the old man's stern face soften marginally.
"Prego, signorina." He returns to his cooking station, giving us space.
I watch as she takes her first bite, a look of pleasure crossing her face. Something primitive and satisfied unfurls in my chest at the sight of her enjoying food at my table.
I watch Sienna enjoying her pancakes, remembering how different our morning had been just hours ago. The way her body fit against mine, her skin against my sheets.
Lucrezia's voice breaks through my thoughts.
"Good morning," she says, sliding into the kitchen with unexpected lightness in her step. She's wearing a paint-splattered t-shirt over leggings, her hair pulled back in a messy bun – the closest to her old self I've seen in months.
"Coffee?" I ask, already reaching for a mug.
"God, yes." She accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip before turning her attention to Sienna. "How are you feeling? That bruise looks painful."
Sienna's hand instinctively goes to her face where Jackson's handprint still marks her skin. "It's not so bad."
Lucrezia studies her for a moment before shifting her gaze to me. "And how's that knife wound, big brother? Still playing the tough guy?"
"It's fine," I mutter, unconsciously touching my side where Dr. Romano had patched me up. "Barely a scratch."
"Men," Lucrezia rolls her eyes at Sienna, earning a small smile in response. "They could be missing a limb and still say it's just a flesh wound."
Something in Lucrezia's demeanor catches my attention – there's a spark in her eyes that's been missing since the night with Byron's men. She rocks slightly on her heels, energy practically radiating from her.
"I'm going to paint today," she announces, and I nearly drop my coffee mug. "First time in... well, you know."
I do know. Three months, two weeks, and four days since she last touched a brush.
"That's great, Luci," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral despite the surge of hope in my chest.
Lucrezia turns to Sienna. "Want to join me? I have supplies you can use, or you can just keep me company. My studio has the best light in the house."
Sienna looks startled by the invitation, glancing at me as if seeking permission. Something about that hesitance makes my jaw clench. She shouldn't need anyone's permission for anything, ever again.
"Go," I encourage her. "If you want to."
"I'd like that," Sienna says to Lucrezia, her voice quiet but genuine. "I haven't done much art myself, but I'd love to watch."
Lucrezia's face lights up. "Perfect. We'll make a day of it."
I watch them make plans, something unfamiliar warming my chest. It takes me a moment to recognize it as happiness – not my own, but happiness for them. For Lucrezia finding her way back to her art. For Sienna experiencing something normal and peaceful.
"I should get to Damiano's office," I say, finishing my coffee. "He's waiting for me."
