Page 121 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

Andino’s voice added reason to a conversation that only seemed to be growing louder the closer John and Siena came to the dining room of the large Marcello estate. A mansion that rested on six acres of land in Tuxedo Park, and belonged to his grandparents. Or, that’s what he explained to her during Sunday service.

“The intention doesn’t have to be known,” the first man said again. “That’s where the problem is, and we all know it. An idea is more than enough. I do not want even the suggestion that our home or lives are open to them. Not even her.”

“Do you think I want them in my life, Dante?”

“He’s your son, Lucian, so you tell me.”

John’s suddenly stiff posture straightened impossibly more at Siena’s side. Yet, she kept holding his hand because for no particular reason, she thought it might ground him to her. His stress was obvious enough, and he didn’t need more added on just because of her.

The two rounded the last corner of a long hallway, and came to stand in the entryway of a massive dining room. A chandelier the size of a small car hung from a vaulted ceiling overtop a table that was so big, it looked like it could fit three families in every seat.

Standing around the table, glaring at one another, or staring at the shiny oak top were several men. The same ones who greeted them outside the church, but also, the ones John had introduced her to after the services.

His uncles—Gio and Dante.

Gio’s son, Andino.

His grandfather, Antony.

And his father, Lucian.

Another man sat in the corner nursing what looked to be a glass of bourbon. Siena did recognize him, although he hadn’t been at the church, and he definitely wasn’t a Marcello. He did come from a family like theirs, though.

Cross Donati.

Like the Marcellos, Cross’s family occasionally did business at arm’s length with Siena’s brothers. That was the only reason why she recognized his face. That was about all she knew regarding him.

Her introductions to John’s family after Sunday services had been, at best, tense and short. Even his aunts, cousins, and mother had made sure to keep the conversation to the point, and respectful.

Nothing they did made her feel out of place or unwelcome at the church. At the same time, she didn’t particularly feel their friendliness or care, either. They would smile at her, but it was guarded. They shook her hand, but little else.

Still, she could tell …

She didn’t need to be told.

Siena was not a stupid girl.

None of these people trusted her.

All because of her last name.

At the sight of the two of them standing in the entryway, the conversation between the Marcello men silenced damn near instantly.

John laughed darkly. “Now, isn’t that the kind of conversation we reserve for a weekday, and not in the dining room where any-fucking-body can hear it?”

Dante—who Siena now knew was the man heading the Marcello family—gave John a look, and it clearly voiced his displeasure without him needing to. “I can discuss issues with my family wherever I want to, Johnathan. You are quite aware of that.”

“Except when anybody else does it on a Sunday, you’re quick to shut them up.”

“This isn’t business. This is family.”

“John,” Lucian said, taking a step closer to his son. “Maybe we should go upstairs, and have a chat for a minute before dinner is served.”

John shook his head, and tipped his head in Siena’s direction. “No, I have a guest, so I’m going to settle her in. It’s what a gentleman does. We don’t leave anyone out to the wolves, right?”

At that statement, Dante stiffened.

“You think we would—”