Sienna
I can’t live like this. Constantly on the run, not knowing who to trust. The only person I can rely on is Nate.
Now he’s sending me away.
I had hoped that once we came back to LA, that would be it.
Or at least, I had hoped that Nate and I could stay for longer than two days.
Leaving LA never gets any easier, especially when he won’t tell me when I’ll be able to return. Or if I’ll return at all. He won’t even tell me why I’m being forced to leave.
I thought Nate would’ve checked that it was safe to come before flying me back here, and now he’s just changed his mind.
He said that he’s trying to keep me safe, to protect me. I wonder how Nate can be my rock—how he can say he’ll be there for me, if I don’t even know where he is?
As we prepare to leave, only my bag’s waiting by the door.
Why doesn’t he trust me?
As the minutes pass, my blood begins to boil. I’m angry—so fucking angry—at Nate, at Titus and James, at this whole situation they’ve put me in. I didn’t ask for this to happen to me—I didn’t ask for the mafia to kill my dad, kidnap me, and make my life a living hell.
And now, when I’m so close to having everything—Nate, my mom, my freedom—it’s being ripped away from me again. And I’m powerless to stop it.
I’m not Nate, I can’t just place a few phone calls to the right people, or drive in my limousine with my two best henchmen and solve my problems with blood.
I’m Sienna Rose. My problems used to be that I’d have to stay up all night studying, or that one of my friends slept with her ex. Nothing couldn’t be fixed with the right attitude and a strong cup of coffee.
But not this time.
This time, I’m being driven to the airport in Nate’s Mercedes. He and I sit in the backseat while Titus drives. No one speaks, I’m sure they can both sense my anger. I’m not trying to make it obvious, but Nate isn’t stupid. He knows he’s pissed me off. But I don’t want to start a fight—not really, not with him.
He places his hand on my leg, holding my thigh tightly. I half wish we were alone—or with a driver who I didn’t know by name.
The tips of Nate’s fingers inch up my leg, slipping through the rips in my jeans. He strokes my inner thigh, giving me goosebumps. He’s teasing me, trying to distract me from the journey and from my anger.
It’s almost working.
I lean into his touch, opening my legs a little bit wider so that he might reach up further. I bite my lip, looking at Nate through my eyelashes—I’ll be so wet if he doesn’t stop. Titus looks at Nate briefly in the rear-view mirror, almost raising an eyebrow, and Nate subtly smirks back.
He doesn’t care who sees us together—I’m his, after all.
But we both know this isn’t the right time nor place. Nate pulls his hand back until it’s just resting at the top of my thigh, squeezing occasionally.
I turn my attention to the window, looking away from them both so they can’t watch me catching my breath.
Titus isn’t driving us towards the private airport where Nate’s jet was parked. It seems like we’re following the signs for the LA airport, for a commercial flight. I look back at Nate, trying to read his face. But I learn nothing.
When the car stops outside the airport, we all get out. Titus grabs our bags from the trunk, and I turn to look at Nate.
“What’re you going to do?”
“I’ve got some things here to sort out. I’ll join you soon,” he says, striding towards me.
I feel those strong arms wrap around me, holding my waist as he leans down to kiss me. His mouth captures mine and he kisses me intently.
Nate said he’ll join me soon. But he’s kissing me like he’s saying goodbye.
Conflicted, I kiss him back. My fingers cup his jaw as I hold him close to me for a few moments more before he begins to pull away.
“You better join me soon,” I whisper.
I want to be with him, obviously. But every second he’s here in LA without me feels like another knife being plunged into my back.
Nate answers me with another brief kiss, capturing my lips for one last taste. He pulls away, looking at Titus. They share a knowing look, and Titus nods. Whatever unspoken order Nate just gave, Titus heard it loud and clear.
As we walk into the airport, I look over my shoulder just in time to watch Nate drive away in the Mercedes, burning rubber as he disappears into LA traffic.
I sigh, and Titus leads me into the airport.
Once we’re through the gate, I kill time by shopping. I wander through the stores, looking at the shoes and makeup and perfume. Titus told me that Nate left him a black card and some cash so that I could have anything—everything—that I want.
But shopping just doesn’t hold the same joy for me. I’m too distracted, too caught up in everything else.
Briefly, I see the Dior perfume that my mom wears. I pause in front of it, and the memories of her at the funeral creep into my mind. There’s an ache in my chest as I can’t be there for her. I had to watch from afar as she buried her husband, her true love.
I buy it. I’ll give it to her when this is all over.
Whenever that will be.
I buy it as a testament to the fact that I will see her again.
Titus and I settle into the flight quickly—I’m almost used to the six-hour journey now. I never thought I would be.
I call over the stewardess, and order two glasses of Grey Goose and cranberry—one for me, and one for Titus.
“I shouldn’t,” he says as the hostess places it with a napkin on the table in front of him.
“Come on, one or two won’t kill you,” I take my glass and spin the ice cubes, “We’ve got another four hours until we land.”
“I guess you’re right,” he takes the drink in his hand. “So how’re you holding up?” I look at him and raise an eyebrow. He says, “Okay then, stupid question.”
“I’m just tired of it all. Of hiding. Of running. Of not being allowed to go back to LA.”
“I know, but it’s for your best interest, Sienna,” Titus tells me, and I roll my eyes. “It is. Do you think Nate would do all this if he thought there was any other choice?”
Deep down, I know he’s right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m being kept in the dark, and that it feels like Nate is hiding a lot from me.
“Sounds like you trust Nate a lot,” I remark. “I bet there’s a story there.”
“Of course, there is. In our line of work, there’re stories everywhere. Its cliché, but Nate’s helped me out of many sticky situations in this line of work. I practically owe him my life.”
I respect his loyalty to Nate. I can see how much Nate depends on him, too.
Each time I see his cup getting empty, I order Titus another drink. I switch him from vodka to whiskey—not that he seems to notice. I know that he’s is a man who can hold his drink, judging from his stature and size, but I can see that I’m beginning to get to him.
I’ve been deliberately drinking my Grey Goose slowly, pretending to take sips and instead focusing on what he has to say. There are very few men who can resist the attention of a beautiful woman and some expensive alcohol. I almost feel guilty about taking advantage of him like this.
Almost.
When the plane lands, we exit into the security area with Titus carrying the bags. JFK is busy—as always. Crowds of people walk this way and that.
We’re in line for the final screening when two security guards—two tall, relatively muscled men—approach Titus. Titus towers above both of them, but the badge on their chest and pistols at their hips give them the authority over him.
“Excuse me, sir, can you step this way please?” they ask, politely but firmly.
Titus looks at me before saying, “Of course, gentlemen.”
This is my chance. As the guards lead him off to one side, I begin to walk in the opposite direction. I look over my shoulder at Titus and watch as his face goes from content to a distinct look of ‘oh, shit’.
I slip into the crowd, letting them carry me through the airport. I don’t look back again.