Page 13 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

Siena’s father repeated it to her a little more often than he did to everyone else. She figured that was because she was a woman, and no made man in the mafia wanted other Mafiosi to know a woman was handling business.

Especially … numbers.

“Isn’t it always black cars, and ten under the speed limit for Capos?” Siena asked.

“For some, maybe.” Johnathan chuckled. “My car is still in shipping somewhere between the Rust Belt and here.”

“But is it black?” she asked.

Johnathan smirked. “Possibly.”

“And do you drive ten under the limit?”

“Possibly.”

“I knew it,” Siena said, winking. “So, for now you’re slumming it on a bus, then?”

“I don’t mind the bus. I get to be around people without actually engaging with people.”

Siena lifted a single eyebrow. “Is that a shot at me—I shouldn’t be engaging you, or something?”

Johnathan’s grin deepened, and he looked her over once more. “Nah, I don’t mind engaging you, Siena.”

“It’s just a shame my last name is Calabrese, huh?”

He waved a hand, and said, “It is what it is.”

Johnathan looked out the bus window, and stayed silent for a few moments. As the bus stopped to let more people on, and a few off, Siena took the chance to take Johnathan’s profile in. A lax, easy smile. Strong lines shaped his jaw and cheekbones. A single dimple in his right cheek peeked out whenever his grin deepened. His bottom lip was slightly fuller than his top, and his olive complexion spoke of his Italian bloodline.

He had to be at least six-foot-three, or taller when standing up. The black suit he wore looked cut perfectly to his form—a lean, yet fit, form. The diamond incrusted Rolex on one wrist, a leather band embossed with something on the other, and black leather shoes gave credence to the wealth the Marcello family had.

Everything about Johnathan screamed handsome, bad news, and entirely interesting to Siena. His good looks certainly couldn’t be denied, and his last name—without needing him to confirm or deny—was enough to tell her he was probably mixed up in la famiglia.

The interesting bit, though, was a little harder to explain.

Other than how he looked at her?

Something different from how his dark grin made her pulse quicken?

Maybe it was because the Marcello family kind of felt like an enigma to her. She knew they were real, and heard enough about them to respect how they controlled New York. Yet, at the same time, the Marcellos were also illusive. A crime organization just like her father’s, but one her family only whispered about over the years.

Johnathan was, essentially, one big mystery.

Just like his family.

Straight, thick brows gave him a disinterested expression, except when he turned his hazel gaze on her. The cool, calm demeanor of Johnathan Marcello was shattered when someone got a good look at his eyes—a wild, lost man stared back.

Johnathan glanced away from the window. He caught Siena staring at him like a foolish girl, but she didn’t look away.

“Yes?” he asked.

Lying really wasn’t her forte.

She wasn’t very good at it.

“You’re very handsome, Johnathan,” she said.

Those dark eyes of his flashed with something unknown before he said, “I prefer John.”