Page 11 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

John climbed out of the Lexus without another word to his cousin. As Andino pulled away from the side of the road, John strolled down the sidewalk to where the bus stop was and waited. Less than ten minutes later, a bus heading straight into the heart of Hell’s Kitchen pulled over, and John stepped in the vehicle.

Pulling out a phone from his pocket, John dialed his father’s cell phone number as he walked toward the back of the bus with his eyes on the ground.

“Ciao,” Lucian said when he picked up John’s call.

“Hey, Dad.”

“John.”

“I’m not going to make it for dinner. Give Ma my apologies.”

Lucian sighed heavily. “Why not?”

“Business in the Kitchen.”

Technically, it was a lie. He didn’t have to work today if he didn’t want to, but he needed something to do other than be under his cousin’s watch. John simply didn’t want to go through another round with his parents and their concerns. He needed space and time to breathe. He needed to be his own person without everyone else’s worries and influence.

His parents didn’t understand.

“Breakfast tomorrow then,” Lucian said.

“I—”

“It’s not a request, John,” his father cut in harshly. “When you flake on your mother, I expect you to make it up to her.”

“Fine, tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Lucian hung up the call before John could.

Shoving his phone in his pocket, John took the first seat he could. Glancing up from his clenched hands that rested in his lap, he came face-to-face with sapphire eyes.

John blinked.

The woman smiled.

She had a tablet in her hands and one earbud in her ear. A messenger bag rested at her feet, drawing John’s gaze down to the leather boots she wore. Skinny jeans showcased the length of her legs and the curve of her hips. He didn’t recognize her, but something about her was familiar.

Tucking a strand of her caramel-toned curls behind her ear, the woman met his gaze again. His mouth went dry and he didn’t have the first clue of why. Maybe it was because he’d spent three years in prison, and the only females he’d had contact with since he got out were family.

Or maybe it was because the girl was fucking beautiful.

Every part of him knew it.

“Hi,” she said, still smiling.

“Hi.” John grinned back. “Johnathan Marcello.”

“The Johnathan Marcello?”

John chuckled. “There’s only one alive in this city, as far as I know.”

The woman’s smile turned wider. “Siena.”

“Like the city in Italy?”

“Just like that,” she replied.

“A last name?” John asked.

“Calabrese. It’s very nice to meet you, John.”

Shit.