Page 34 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“I never said that. I didn’t even think it.”
“I refuse to repeat history. I’ll never forget the look on my mom’s face when I came home from prom. She didn’t get angry. Didn’t blame me. But I could see it in her eyes. She was disappointed. She wished I’d behaved differently. However, she didn’t say it. She asked me how prom was. If I had a good time. She’s never blamed me.”
“That’s because it wasn’t your fault. You were a kid.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a kid anymore. Please, Dario.”
She leaves the hut, and I sit on the bed, dejected.We’re not a couple…
She’s right. I can’t argue with that. But she’s being too hard on herself. She deserves happiness, pleasure, and no matter what she says, she’s happy when we’re together. When we kissed and touched, she couldn’t hide her pleasure.
Would it be the decent thing to let her go? Even the thought of letting her go implies that I have her, which I don’t, not yet. Hell, I just want her to relax a little, to understand she can have it all.
More than anything, I don’t want her to beat herself up.
She deserves better than that.
CHAPTER 13
SIENA
“Is that really what you want–to see me with someone else?”
I toss and turn as morning sunlight filters into my hut, glowing red against my closed eyelids. When he asked me that question, it wasn’t like I could tell him the confusing truth.
No, I don’t want to see him with someone else. I’m not some lovestruck Victorian heroine, though. My instincts will not lead me. I meant what I told him last night.
The job comes first. Mom comes first.
I climb out of bed, stretching my arms over my head. My body is aching from last night. Not the swim. The rest of it.
My mind is aching too. I remember how vicious Dario sounded on the phone, the violence in his voice. Surely, that should be all the fuel I need to forget about whatever this is and move on with my life.
It’s not like there’s even that much to move on from. Some banter. A few kisses. Some closeness.
Yet, it feels like more.
I get dressed and head to the restaurant for breakfast. When I see Dario and his mother, Marcela, sitting at a table in the corner under the shadow of a large palm tree, something tightens in my chest.
Marcela waves a hand, gesturing for me to join them. I nod to the buffet line and then give her a thumbs up. It’s not like I can tell her no. Anyway, a simple breakfast won’t be so bad.
Dario looks like a giant sitting next to his mother, cool, calm, and collected too, leaning back in his cream shirt with the top buttons open, his black silver hair neatly styled. As I approach the table, I feel his eyes on me.
“Good morning, Siena,” Marcela says.
“Good morning.” I smile. “How did you sleep?”
“Beautifully… knowing my savior was out there.”
“Ha, I was just doing my job.”
“Excellently, it has to be said.” Marcela turns to her son. “Are you going to say hello?”
“Hey, Siena,” he says.
“Hi.” I look down at my plate. Despite what I said last night, he can’t help but gaze dreamily at me. Or am I projecting?
“We were just talking about fate and true love,” Marcela adds.
