Page 22 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“If that’s the story you want to go with, fair enough, but I’m not going to just stand here while he insults you.”
“You can play the knight in shining armor all you want. It doesn’t mean I’m going to throw myself at you.”
Something feral awakens in me, and I grip her waist, pulling her close and looking into her eyes. She gasps and gazes up at me. “And you can pretend you’re indifferent all you want, but that doesn’t mean I can look past it all.”
“Let me go,” she whispers.
“Say that like you mean it.”
“Dario!”
Reluctantly, I release my hold. She straightens her top.
“Maybe my reasons for helping you aren’t completely selfish.”
“You’re a jaw-breaking Good Samaritan, are you?”
“That was a little extreme, I’ll admit that, but my heart was in the right place.”
“I’ll humor you. If you’re not just trying to get in my pants, why on earth would you want to help me, huh?”
“You present a tough front to the world with your sassy eye rolls and your take-no-shit attitude, but I think, inside, you’re more nervous and vulnerable than you’d ever admit… to anyone.”
She flinches, then hardens her expression. “Maybe you’re not as good at reading people as you think.”
“It’s in the way you fidget, moving like you’re going to bite your fingernails, then lowering your hand like you’re pissed at yourself for even thinking about it. It’s the way you laugh, like it’s a shock to you, like you’re not used to laughing–almost like you feel bad about it. It’s the guilt in your smiles, Siena.”
Her stern expression turns crestfallen. For a moment, I almost think she’s going to cry. Her eyes glimmer with unshed tears.
“We should get back,” she murmurs.
“I’m not wrong, though, am I?”
She doesn’t answer, instead walking ahead. I hurry after her and offer her my arm.
“I’m okay now,” she says.
“What have I told you about being proud?”
She leans against me. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
“Only with things that matter.”
We walk through the palms together. Emerging onto the beach, I see that my mother and father are waiting for us. The rest of the party has dispersed. My mother’s face lights up when she sees Siena leaning on me.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Great,” Siena says, standing up straighter and letting me go.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m ready to go–ready to work.”
“That’s not what I meant, sweet girl,” my mother says. “I wanted to ask, will you join us for lunch? It will be a small affair.”
“You don’t have to,” I say, reading the indecision on Siena’s face.
“Of course she doesn’t have to,” my father says. “She knows she doesn’t have to. We’re not going to force her. But we want to saythank you for what you did, Siena. If you weren’t there…” He wraps an arm around my mother. “I can’t bear to think about it.”
