Page 88 of Ruined By Blood
In the rearview mirror, his cold eyes meet mine. I search my memory, trying to place him among my father's many guards and enforcers, but his face remains unfamiliar. That doesn't mean anything—my father has dozens of men I've never seen.
"So," he says, starting the engine with a low rumble, "interesting situation we have here."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "What do you mean?"
He pulls away from the Feretti mansion, tires crunching over broken glass from the explosion. "Your father thinks the Ferettis took you. Kidnapped you." He pauses, watching my reaction in the mirror. "But that's not what I saw back there. You were with them willingly, weren't you?"
Ice floods my veins. If my father discovers I stayed with Enzo by choice...
"Please," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Please don't tell him that."
A small, cruel smile plays on his lips. "And why shouldn't I?"
"I can pay you," I say quickly, the words tumbling out. "More than whatever he's paying you. I have money—hidden money he doesn't know about." It's a lie, but he doesn't need to know that. "Just tell him you found me locked up. Tell him I was a prisoner."
He takes a sharp turn, throwing me against the door. "Your father pays well."
"I can pay better." My fingers dig into the leather seat. "Please. He'll kill me if he thinks I betrayed him."
The man drives in silence for a long moment, considering. I can feel sweat beading at my hairline, trickling down my back. The bruise on my face throbs in time with my racing heart.
"You know what," he finally says, "I think we can work something out."
I exhale shakily. "Thank you. Thank you?—"
"I don't want your money. Not now, anyway." He meets my eyes in the mirror again, his gaze calculating. "But you owe me. Remember that."
A chill runs through me at his words. I know what men like him consider payment, but right now, I have no choice.
"I'll tell your father I found you locked in a bedroom. That the Ferettis were keeping you as leverage." He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. "But one day, I'll come to collect on this favor. Understand?"
I nod slowly, throat tight with fear. "I understand."
"Good girl." He turns his attention back to the road. "Our little secret."
The weight of this new debt settles over me like a shroud.
I lean my forehead against the cold window, watching the Feretti mansion disappear behind us.
The car pulls up to my father's mansion, and my stomach twists into knots. The house looms beforeme—white columns, manicured hedges, and windows that never let enough light in. I've spent my life trying to escape this place, and now I'm being delivered back like a package.
"We're here," the driver announces unnecessarily.
I nod once, my mouth too dry to speak. The bruise on my face throbs as I step out of the car, my legs trembling beneath me.
The front door opens before we reach it. My father stands in the entryway, his salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled, his blue eyes cold as they sweep over me. He's dressed in an impeccable gray suit without a single wrinkle, looking every bit the respectable businessman the world believes him to be.
"Sienna." His voice is calm, controlled—more frightening than if he'd been shouting.
I force myself to meet his gaze, fighting the instinct to look at the floor. "Father."
He steps aside, allowing us to enter. The house smells of furniture polish and emptiness.
"You did good work," my father tells the driver once we're in his study. He sits behind his massive desk, a glass of whiskey already in his hand. "Quick and effective. I appreciate efficiency."
"Thank you, sir." The driver stands at attention, his shoulders squared. "It wasn't difficult. They weren't expecting us."
"And what did you find?" My father's eyes flick to me, then back to the driver.
