Page 41 of Vows of Blood

There are texts from numbers I don’t even recognize.

What the hell is going on?

As I scroll, one name is mentioned over and over.

Luca Calvano.

Throwing back the covers, I’m already calling Rebecca back as I scramble out of bed, shove my feet into my slippers, and grab a hoodie to ward off the chill in the air.

She picks up on the first ring as if she’s been sitting there staring at her phone, waiting for me to call her back.

“Hey. Wha–”

She wastes no time on pleasantries, talking over me immediately. "Oh, thank God. Sienna, have you seen?"

My stomach drops. It’s too early, and I’m too tired for this. "Seen what? What's going on?"

Vito winds a figure eight around my ankles as I press my cheek to the cold fridge door. Staring up at me, his look tells me he’s concerned I’ve lost it. While I’m on the hunt for a new job, he’s probably considering a new owner.

"Look at the last message I sent you. Or out your window."

Fighting the urge to slink back into my room, to hide under the covers and pretend none of this is happening, I brace myself for more bad news. With the way the last couple of days have gone, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Crossing to the window, I yank back the curtains and gasp. The street below, usually empty at this hour, is lined with cars, nicer than the ones people around here own, and vans, big ones, with camera crews standing beside them.

"Oh fuck." They must be here for me, but why? I'm nobody. “Are they at your house too?”

"Just look at the link I sent you."

I open our chat and navigate to her message, nearly dropping it twice with my shaky fingers. When I click on the link, the article fills my screen, and the air leaves my lungs.

It’s me. About six different shots, taken outside the restaurant on the night of the shooting, in those chaotic minutes after the ambulance took Kate away. Luca’s draping his jacket over my shoulders in one. In the next, he's reaching toward me, his fingers on my collar, turning it up against the cold.

The gesture is almost tender, and combined with the intimacy of the positions, it looks like more than it was.

Maybe it did make my heart flutter, just for a second, but we’re not lovers.

Each still shot though, with Luca looking concerned but composed, disheveled but hot as hell, and me looking up at him wide-eyed, looks like a scene from a romance movie.

And Luca Calvano looks every inch the leading man, not the villain.

“No, no, no,” I whisper as I scan ahead, barely able to comprehend what’s happening.

The headline screams: CALVANO HEIR'S MYSTERY WOMAN IDENTIFIED: Childhood Family Friend comforts devastated heir of the Calvano empire after Party Tragedy.

They have it all.

Old photos that must have been pulled from my social media. Speculation dressed up as journalism, quotes from former classmates who remember us being college sweethearts, some questions about whether Luca’s rumored engagement to Kate O'Sullivan is real.

"Sienna? Are you still there?"

In all the time since I left college, abandoned my degree, and tried to drag my family out of the hell we’d found ourselves in, nobody knew about my connection to Luca. But now, all that carefully crafted distance has evaporated.

They list out his father’s prosecutions and jail sentences, aggravated assault, money laundering, and fraud. Not the kind of stuff you want to be linked to if anyone, prospective partner or employer, gives your name a quick Google.

Fuck.

"I'm here." I sink to the floor, back against the wall, putting the phone on speaker.