Page 20 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“Ha, ha,” I mutter.
After the break, I approach Vittorio and Marcela. “Hello, sir, ma’am?—”
“Call us by our names, Siena, please,” Marcela implores.
“Sorry, Mr. and Mrs.—”
“Ourfirstnames.”
I smile. “Vittorio, Marcela… if you wouldn’t mind joining Julian at the top of the ridge for the couple’s photoshoot.”
“It would be our pleasure.”
Julian, Marcela, Vittorio, and I walk up the ridge together. Without the others interfering, the photoshoot is far easier. I linger nearby, waiting for the session to be concluded, but then I notice the rocks under the couples’ feet. They seem looser than before somehow, the footing less sure.
This thought is probably what saves her. My instinct.
I barely had time to think, “Huh, that’s strange,” before Marcela is stumbling backward.
I don’t hesitate.
Rushing forward, I grab her hand and haul her towards me, using so much force I end up on the ground, the rocks smashing painfully into my back and taking the wind from me.
CHAPTER 8
DARIO
When I hear my mother’s scream, I rush up the ridge, taking long strides until I’ve reached the top. My mother is sitting on the ground, her hand to her chest. At first, I think she’s having a heart attack, but then I notice Siena not far away.
Siena is on the ground too, lying on her back, breathing raggedly. Seeing that my father is tending to my mother, I rush to Siena and kneel at her side.
“Siena? What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m—winded,” she pants. “But—fine.”
“What happened?”
“The rocks gave way,” my father says in a low growl. “I didn’t react quickly enough. Marcela was going to fall, but Siena acted fast. She saved her son. She saved your mother’s life.”
I gently take Siena by the shoulders. “I’m going to sit you up, okay? See if it will help with your breathing. I’m going to do it slowly because you may be injured.”
She nods. “O… kay.”
Softly, I guide her to a sitting position, and then slowly rub her back in circles. She slowly begins to breathe steadily.
“I think I’m okay,” she says slowly.
“Nothing feels broken?”
“There’s not much pain. Just a little.”
“Or you’re just stronger than most.”
“Siena, sweet girl, you saved my life,” my mother says, rushing over, her hands clasped to her chest.
“I don’t understand. I scouted this spot yesterday. The rocks weren’t loose. I wouldn’t have brought you up here if I thought there was even a slight chance something like this could happen.”
“This isn’t your fault,” I tell her sternly. “The location was fine for the other two photo shoots. You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”
