“Of course.” I knew it was time to share what I remembered. “Are you going to get angry?”
“Someone hurt you, Sienna.” He shrugged, twisting a piece of hair around his middle finger. “I have the right to rip them limb from limb.”
“Fine,” I knew it was pointless to argue, “but maybe I can help with your temper?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Try me.”
I took his hand as my other lifted my dress slightly and skimmed his hand over my smooth skin to reveal I was going commando.
“Jesus,” he groaned and gently pressed a finger between my folds, discovering just what he’d done to me, “I would do anything to be inside y—”
“Why are there meetings that I don’t know about?” Mariano called down the hallway, and Elio’s hand slipped away with a curse.
“Tonight.” He nodded and stood back as Mariano came into the kitchen looking fit to kill.
“Why is it you’re always with Elio?” he snapped at me as he reached for the coffee pot, banging everything loudly. “I’m starting to get a complex here.”
“Are you feeling okay, Mariano?” I eyed Elio to show I could see Mariano was off this morning.
“Do I look okay?” he barked over his shoulder.
“No, you look like shit,” dropped from my tongue, and Elio hid his smirk. I was growing tired of his mood swings.Grow up.
“Tell me how you really feel,” he muttered. “What time is the meeting?”
“You’re not needed for this one.” Elio gathered up the files next to me.
“Why the hell not?”
“Pardon?” Elio stood straighter to show his authority and flashed a glare at him. “You’re hung over, you’re wearing clothes from yesterday, and you need a goddam shower. All before I would even consider bringing you into any meeting we are having.”
“I’ve been worried about her,” he blamed me, “because…because.” He struggled to remember what happened to me. “She got hurt and shit.”
“Nice.” I shook my head. “Remember what we spoke about in your kitchen? About how I don’t do this.” I pointed a finger up and down his painful appearance. “Don’t toss your train wreck of a life at me, Mariano. Ever.” I left the room and met Piero in the hallway.
“Good morning.”
“It was,” I couldn’t help but snap.
“What happened?”
“Oh, thirty some-odd years ago, the DeSimones decided to reproduce.”
He laughed loudly then wrapped a loving arm around me with a sigh. “Elio will deal with him when the time is right, but until then, can we get the full story from you?”
“Of course.” I followed him into his office and shared everything I remembered with him and Elio.
Later, spent from talking, I found my way to the special place Elio had made. I sat sideways in the hammock and used the toe of my shoe to gently swing myself. The painkillers I’d taken were soaking in my stomach and had begun to push away the hurt from my ribs. I took a moment to envy the way the sunflowers swayed in the light breeze without a care in the world. I could only stand tight and wonder at my unfinished story. I’d always known that finding out about my past would probably not be everything I wanted it to be, but I hadn’t been prepared for the fact that my father was dead. The fact that he had been murdered only confused me more.
“May I sit?” I hadn’t even heard Francesco come up behind me.
“Of course.” I slid over carefully and put my hands on my lap as I tried to curb my emotions.
He eased into the hammock next to me and took over the job of swinging it with his foot. He sat silently as though waiting for me to speak. When I didn’t, he breathed heavily a couple of times, allowing the air to puff out his cheeks as he exhaled. He was obviously mulling something over.
“I don’t want you to hate me,” he whispered. “Things just didn’t go as planned.”
“I so wanted—” my voice cut out as my chin quivered. “I really hoped you were my father.” The words hurt so much that I broke out in a sob.