JOHN’S PLACE was spotless …
Siena kept that thought in mind as she finished up washing the last few dishes from the pancake mess she had made. A plate of pancakes sat on the cupboard, untouched and getting cooler by the minute.
She remembered the night before that Johnathan’s bed had been perfectly made before they climbed in it, and messed it all up. Then, when he left this morning, he had taken five minutes to fix his bed again before he left the house.
For a bachelor who lived on his own, Siena expected Johnathan to be at least a little untidy. Like most men who lived alone were. A few clothes scattered somewhere. A floor that could use a sweep. Knickknacks or mismatched treasures spread out on shelves or tables.
Nothing.
Johnathan had none of those.
His place was meticulously clean. His floors were shiny enough that someone could probably eat off them. She noticed that morning even the clothes in his walk-in closet were carefully hung by color, and arranged by each type of item.
It was all a little OCD-like, in some ways. Except … Siena knew Johnathan likely wasn’t struggling with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. She only leaned toward that impression because she noticed him, too.
He didn’t say a word when she went through his kitchen, or made a mess. He didn’t have any strange rituals or compulsions, so to speak, for her to take note of. He washed his hands before and after he ate, and when he went to the bathroom, but that was about it.
Was it possible he just managed the disorder through tidiness and organizing every little thing? Sure, but she really didn’t think that was the case at all.
Siena was also quite aware that OCD could not be simplified in to strange habits and a compulsive need to do very specific things.
She really shouldn’t be speculating at all.
It wasn’t her place.
Those pancakes are going to be disgusting.
Siena scrubbed the massive bowl John had barely needed to reach for. She eyed the stack of three pancakes on the plate a couple of feet away.
She didn’t know what to do with them because she didn’t have the first clue when John was going to be back. The man had no plastic wrap in his house to put over food—she hadn’t even found containers for leftovers.
Whether or not that was because John didn’t eat leftovers, or perhaps it was something else entirely. Like the fact those containers always somehow magically lost their lids, made a mess in the cupboard, and were not at all very tidy despite how the commercials made them look.
Who knew?
Siena had also noticed in her search of the kitchen that Johnathan tended to favor healthy foods. Organic seemed to be a favorite of his, like the eggs in the fridge, and the honey she had used on her own pancakes. However, that corn syrup in the fridge was not healthy at all.
Seemed he made a few exceptions.
Like the Oreos in the pantry.
Siena smiled to herself as she rinsed off the bowl. For as fit as John was, she couldn’t exactly imagine him binging on a package of cookies.
But what did she know?
Siena went about drying the dishes and putting them all away. She opted to leave the big bowl on the cupboard beside the pantry where she had found it.
The clock on the wall said it was only nine, which meant she still had a couple of hours before she needed to be at her father’s dealership. It only really registered to her in that moment that her phone had been dark all night and morning.
No calls from Matteo.
No calls from her brothers.
None of them had even come downstairs when Johnathan left the night before, so she seriously doubted that they knew she had left with him. Except … her car was still at her parents’ brownstone, so they must have suspected.
Yet, no calls.
No check-in to make sure she wouldn’t be late today.
Nothing.
The cupboard over the fridge caught Siena’s eye. It was the only cupboard she hadn’t gotten the chance to check while she was prepping to cook earlier.
Maybe a container or something would be in there to store the food until John got back. Pulling a chair out from the table, she pulled it over and stepped up onto it. The half of a dozen cards and papers pinned to the fridge made her pause.
One in particular made her stop altogether.
Dr. Amelia Goodane, PhD and PsyD, the card read. It had an address and phone number printed on the plain, white card. Under the woman’s name, it said, Psychologist.
The appointment printed on the card was for January eighth, at eight o’clock in the morning.
Today.
Siena glanced at the clock. Actually, an hour ago.
Had he blown off his appointment, or just forgot altogether?
Her gaze drifted back to the card as she took in the doctor’s qualifications once more. John was in therapy—but for what?
Siena figured it didn’t matter because it wasn’t her damn business to begin with. Had he wanted her to know, then John would have brought it up.
Besides, it wasn’t like they were a thing. They weren’t anything where he owed her something, and certainly not an explanation about his personal business.
She put the card aside in her mind, and reached for the cupboards. Better to get the food put away, and deal with whatever else later if John decided it was something she needed to know about him.
The cupboard did not have containers or plastic wrap.
It didn’t even have food.
Medication greeted her. Pill bottles with child safety orange caps stared back at her. She thought to close the door to the cupboard because this was—again—none of her business, but her gaze stiff drifted over the labels.
Johnathan Antony Marcello
His name was on every single one.
Lithium. Zoloft.
Another mood stabilizer.
Antidepressants.
Antianxiety meds.
It was a lot.
Some were obviously discarded meds, maybe ones he no longer used for whatever reason, considering the dates on the bottles and amount of pills still inside.
There were lots of rumors about the infamous Johnathan Marcello. Many of them passed Siena by because she only heard things from afar when made men gathered, and she happened to be around.
Some of them called John crazy. Some said he was just a little wild.
His arrest years ago that took him to prison had also led to lots of speculation about just what had gone down between John and his cousin in a restaurant. Apparently, some people that had been there said it was like John had fallen into a mental break or something.
No one knew for sure.
Siena had heard those rumors.
All of them.
She didn’t entertain whispered gossip and stories. Not when it came from the mouths of men who would only say something behind someone’s back, and never to their face.
And that was enough for her.
Siena instantly slammed the cupboard doors, and stepped down from the chair. She did it without thinking, and never having touched one of the bottles.
A huge part of her felt like she had just betrayed Johnathan in some way, even though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. She hadn’t been snooping, and in fact, didn’t even leave the kitchen the entire time he had been gone except to use the bathroom once.
And yet, she still felt wrong.
Like she had done something wrong to him.
The purr of a Mercedes pulling in the driveway outside made her forget about it.
At least now for …
• • •
“Ease up on the pedal a bit,” Siena joked, “I’m not even late or anything.”
John’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel loosened ever so slightly. His gaze slipped to the clock on the dashboard, and the car slowed down subtly. “Yeah, sorry.”
Something in the lilt of his tone caught her attention. Siena looked at him, but John’s focus was only on the road ahead of him.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
John nodded. “Sure.”
“Really?”
The bobbing of his throat as he swallowed hard did not escape her notice. Neither did the way his fingers tightened around the wheel again like he needed something to keep hanging onto. All of it felt wrong to her.
She just didn’t know why.
“Did something happen?” Siena asked.
John chuckled. “Oh, something is always happening, dolcezza. Don’t worry about it.”
“You can tell me anything, if you want—”
“It’s fine,” he interjected quietly.
Siena let it drop.
What choice did she have at the moment?
“You sure we’re going to make it to the dealership in enough time?” he asked.
Siena settled in the passenger seat. He had already taken her to her apartment to change, and freshen up. “We have lots of time.”
She didn’t bother to mention she might be a little late. Thirty minutes, or so.
The phone in her purse was still silent, though. No calls or texts from her father or brothers. It was like—for once—they didn’t care at all that she was late.
Any other time, and her phone wouldn’t stop until she walked through the front door of whatever business she was supposed to be working in.
John cleared his throat, and said, “So, I never thought to ask before …”
“Hmm, what?”
“You do their books, huh?”
Siena smiled a little. “Something like that.”
“What’s what mean?”
“Someone does the main books for the businesses, sure.”
John nodded. “Let me guess, you go in and clean ‘em up.”
“Something like that,” she echoed.
His hazel eyes drifted to her, and then slowly looked her over. It was enough to make Siena heat up under the jeans, blouse, and tweed coat she had thrown on at her place. John wasn’t even ashamed of his staring when he smirked, and then went back to staring at the road.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for an accountant,” he admitted.
“No?”
“Maybe a school teacher, or nurse. Something like that.”
Siena snorted. “I like numbers, actually. I like facts. Things that add up, or work in the end. It’s just how my brain tries to see everything, I guess.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“My dad noticed that my grades in high school for math and sciences were high. I was taking college prep courses for those areas. Numbers make sense to me, if you get what I’m trying to say.”
John laughed under his breath. “Numbers make sense to me, too. You know, when I can add more zeroes behind the first number.”
Siena grinned. “I bet.”
“Yeah, but keep going with your story.”
“He had me doing books for some of the little businesses he owns when I was a senior in high school. He pushed me toward accounting degrees and whatnot after I graduated. I would have went in to something with math or science as a focus, anyway, but …”
John glanced over at her. “Does it feel like you didn’t get a choice?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted.
“So, you’re the one who handles the Calabrese numbers, huh?”
Siena wet her lips. “Not supposed to talk about business, John.”
His eyes glinted with amusement. “How good can you scrub and cook a book, Siena?”
Well …
“I haven’t found a dollar amount yet that I can’t hide, John.”
He whistled low.
“Damn, donna.”
Siena laughed right along with John. A second later, he reached over to find her thigh with his palm. He squeezed her inner thigh overtop her jeans, and shot her a wink. Then, just as quickly, his hand slid in with hers. Silently, he intertwined their fingers together, and held on tight.
John brought her hand up, leaned over, and pressed three light kisses across her knuckles. He didn’t say a thing while he did it, but he didn’t really need to, either.
It was such a small action.
A little bit of affection.
She didn’t know what to make of it, but she liked it.
“What are we doing?” she asked him.
John didn’t even think about it before answering. “I mean, whatever you want to do, Siena.”
“Are we … doing something now?”
“Like what, Siena? Right now, I’m driving you to work.”
“No, I mean, you and me, John.”
He cleared his throat, and shifted a bit in the driver’s seat. “Depends on if you’re still angry with me about taking off on you and shit.”
“Blackmail, huh?”
John didn’t even try to hide his grin. “I have to make you forget about that somehow, don’t I?”
“I’m not … mad,” she said. “I might bring it up, but I’m not mad.”
His laughter came out thick and husky.
A melody of sin.
“I see,” John said.
“Anyway, I just … want to know. If we are doing something, or whatever. So, I know from the jump what’s going on here. I don’t like games, John.”
“We can be doing something,” he murmured, his gaze drifting from the road to her, and then back again. “You might want to let me take you out properly or something, but that’s up to you.”
She hummed under her breath, very much liking the idea he proposed. “I will hold you to that.”
“Noted. But you should know, I’m a terribly jealous fucker, and I don’t like to share.”
“Me, either.”
John’s lips curved sinfully at the edges. “Got it, love.”
“You can’t blow me off without an explanation ever again,” she warned.
“I can’t make promises, but I’ll always be back.”
Siena took that offer in, and said, “Okay.”
“Sometimes, I’m not very easy to deal with,” John said, keeping his gaze firmly on the road and anywhere but on her. “It’s just a part of who I am, Siena. I don’t mean to make shit difficult, but it happens, regardless.”
She thought about the things she found that morning.
Even though she hadn’t meant to …
He was trying to tell her something without giving it all away.
“Okay,” she said again.
John finally looked over at her. “Just okay, huh?”
Siena shrugged. “I never really liked easy—I like things that make sense. Like romance novels with a happily ever after, or numbers that need to add up in a book. You, too.”
His dark, low chuckles rumbled in the car. Unbothered, grinning, and looking like he didn’t have a fucking care in the world, Siena thought John was the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life. All over again, at the sight of him like that, she was stuck silent.
“Not sure I always make sense,” John admitted after a moment.
Siena thought differently.
“Everything makes sense when you look at all the details.”
John nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
There was no maybe.
On that, Siena knew she was right.
All too soon, John was pulling the Mercedes over along the side of the road. An unfamiliar dealership awaited her—luckily, she had been able to pull up the address of the place from her emails.
“This the place?” he asked.
“Yeah, this is the place.”
John gave her a crooked grin. “Give them my apologies for making you late, and you know, whatever else.”
“Not really worried about it, John.”
He gave her no warning before he leaned over in the seat, and kissed her. A hard, bruising kiss that took her breath away, and had her heart racing out of control. Every stroke of his lips against hers, and his tongue darting into her mouth to dance with hers, felt more and more familiar.
His hand cupped her cheek, and his thumb stroked her skin.
Siena smiled as John pulled away. “You still haven’t even asked for my number.”
“I do know where you live, Siena.”
“Still …”
John smiled widely, showing off white teeth and sex appeal in a blink. “Give me your damn phone, bella.”
• • •
Siena’s week crawled by at the usual slow pace she had become accustomed to. One day was spent dealing with her father, and the next, Darren. She jumped between businesses from day to day finishing up last minute details before the taxes would have to be filed for each and every one.
It was mid-January, after all. The deadline for filing was looming. Technically, it was her busiest time of year. Most of the work was left up to her.
Normally, Siena didn’t mind because it wasn’t like she had much of a life to begin with. Except when she was supposed to be focusing on cooking the books and making numbers work, her mind was on something else entirely.
Or rather … someone else.
John.
Sitting in the office of her oldest brother’s favorite restaurant, Siena’s gaze drifted between the three-inch high pile of documents she had just finished printing out, and the business accounts she had pulled up on the screen. While she electronically filed everything, she kept a physical backup just in case.
She still had things left to do.
Shit to go over.
Her finger hovered on the mousepad of the laptop. On the screen, the cursor rested on top of the web browser. She didn’t use the work computers for personal business. Not that she couldn’t, it was just the way she kept work and everything else separate.
Still, she clicked on the browser.
The office door was open, but the sounds of the restaurant filtering down the hall told her no one was coming. Kev had stepped out a while ago saying something about being hungry.
Siena still kept one eye on the door, and one eye on the Google search bar as she started typing in keywords.
Something had stuck with her for the whole week. Something just wouldn’t let go of her mind. It kept going back there even when she tried to force it out for good.
She kept telling herself that it wasn’t her business. The medications she had found in John’s place was his thing to deal with, and he would tell her if he wanted to.
And yet … she wanted to know.
Siena typed in Lithium, and hit the enter button. The first thing to come up was the metal element, but she scrolled down past that, and clicked on the medical information. She already kind of knew what the drug was used to treat—mostly being that it was a psychiatric medication. Clicking on the link that directed to a medical page dedicated to the drug, she found a list of disorders that Lithium was specifically targeted to.
She clicked on the back button, and came to the Google page again. This time, she added psychotherapy and Lithium into the search bar, and then hit the enter button. The first thing to come up on the page was some article on the correlation of the medication lithium being best used in conjunction with therapy.
The following pages that came up in the search continued to use the same disorder again and again in the preview texts.
Bipolar.
Major Depressive Disorder.
Mania.
Siena clicked on a link, and read down through the information. Just as fast, she went back and clicked on another. And then another.
Back on the search bar, she added in new keywords—other meds she remembered from the cupboard. All over again, the information seemed to lead straight to a cocktail that suggested Bipolar.
A huge part of her wanted to close the browser down because none of this was supplied by Johnathan. He had not told her these things, and she didn’t even know for sure if this was what he was dealing with behind closed doors.
Another part of her wanted to … understand.
If this was a part of his life, and something he was managing privately, she wanted to know more about it.
So, she went back to the search bar again. She typed in, Bipolar, and hit enter. She read through signs and symptoms, and how it was managed. Information came up on things like mania, cycles, and the depression that so often trailed those dealing with the disorder.
She found accounts from people who explained what their mania had been like for years before it was finally properly diagnosed. Not to mention, the things they had done to those around them during the spells, and the way their lives had been upended in the struggle for help.
Some of it was frightening.
Some of it was uplifting.
A lot of it was hopeful.
A bipolar diagnosis for a lot of people seemed to be a relief. An actual confirmation that yes, they did feel things differently, and see the world and themselves in a different way. They processed emotional events or feelings at a different pace, and most of the time, at a far greater intensity. It didn’t mean they were crazy, but rather, had to use different treatments and methods to manage the aspects of bipolar that negatively impacted them.
Siena just kept reading. She kept looking for more information, and a better understanding. She was a good thirty minutes into reading before voices directly outside the office finally made her blink away from the screen.
“So he’s fine with letting all of that go on, then?” Kev asked.
“Guess so,” Darren replied. “It’s that opening he’s been looking for, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, it just might be.”
Siena moved to click the exit button from the browser just as her two brothers walked in the office. She just got the browser closed as Kev rounded the desk, and jerked his thumb for her to move out of his chair.
His gaze darted to the accounts on the screen that had replaced the browser. Siena gave a silent sigh of relief that the browser closed in time. She didn’t know how she would even begin explaining something like that to Kev.
“Move your ass,” Kev said.
“I still have work to finish up, Kev,” Siena told him.
Her brother shrugged like he didn’t give a damn. “Take a break, or something.”
Siena’s brow furrowed. “Since when do you want me to take breaks?”
“Yeah, well, Dad reminded me to keep you fed,” Kev grumbled as he began closing out the accounts on the screen. “There’s a plate waiting for you in the kitchen, and somebody stopped by to see you, I guess.”
“Who?”
“Just go find out. You’ve got an hour at the most, and then you need to get back to work.”
She gave her brother a dirty look before leaving the office. There was a plate waiting for her, but the waiter simply directed her out onto the floor, but not before grabbing a second plate to carry.
It was John waiting for her.
He sat at a private table away from the rest of the diners. Blocked off by a partial wall, he stared out the window until Siena came to sit with him. The sexy grin he flashed had her pulse picking up. He looked damn good with his dark hair slicked back, a well-fitted suit tight to his fit form, and that goddamn smile.
Standing from the table, John allowed the waiter to sit the plates down, and then the man scattered. John reached for Siena, and pulled her in for a quick kiss. For the most part, all they had gotten to do over the week was text back and forth. She was too busy with work and everything else to go out, or stay over. He seemed okay with it, though.
“Sit, and eat with me,” he murmured against her lips.
“This is why you texted me this morning to ask where I was going to be?”
“All you do is work, donna.”
He kind of wasn’t lying.
“So, is this …” Siena waved at the food, and then between them, “… like a date?”
John chuckled, and his smirk deepened. “Exactly that, yeah.”
“And what comes after said date, Johnathan?”
“Whatever you want, Siena.”
She laughed, and wagged a finger at him. “Smooth. Leaving the details up to me.”
“Hey, I got over here today, didn’t I?”
He did.
It meant the world to her.
Had someone asked her what she would like for a date, anything that didn’t include being within five miles of her family would have been at the top of the list. Johnathan managed to keep her within thirty feet of her family, and she didn’t mind at all.
All she saw was him.
John first.
Everything came second.
“How was your week?” John asked.
“Good.”
“Anything come up?”
Siena could have asked or said a lot of things at that moment. The thing she knew, or the stuff she suspected. Yet, she didn’t ask or say a thing. Not about any of it, and not because she didn’t want to know, either.
John was John.
She saw him first.
Everything else was second.