Chapter 3

Siena's POV

I didn't chase after them.

I stood on the blistering Manhattan pavement, the mid-July heat suffocating me as I waited for my private driver.

My vision was blurring from the brutal sun, until Giovanni's heavily armored SUV aggressively pulled up to the curb.

"Get inside. You're drawing unwanted attention standing out here," Giovanni commanded, rolling down the tinted bulletproof window.

I didn't move.

"Get in, Siena. If you collapse from heatstroke on the street, it will be a PR nightmare for the Family."

Giovanni pushed the heavy passenger door open for me.

He still remembered that the passenger seat was strictly the territory of the Capo's woman.

Looking up at the unforgiving sun, I finally stepped inside.

I immediately reached out and tried to turn up the heat.

Giovanni instantly reached over and dialed the temperature back down to freezing while waiting at a red light.

"Serena runs hot in the summer," he stated. "If the air gets too stuffy, she gets carsick."

He remembered Serena's delicate preferences, but he conveniently forgot the severe cramps I was suffering from today.

The cabin was blowing frigid air, turning my hands and feet to ice. To make matters worse, the biometric passenger seat was aggressively uncomfortable.

Just as I reached down to adjust the memory settings, Serena kicked the back of my seat from the second row.

"Leave the settings alone, Siena," she snapped.

"That passenger seat is my designated spot. You are merely a guest in it today. If you mess up the calibration, I'll have to fix it later."

I turned to look at Giovanni.

"You were the one who ordered me to get in."

He didn't even look back, simply brushing me off with chilling indifference.

"Serena gets carsick and refuses to drive. She is accustomed to the passenger seat."

"She's only resting in the back because she's exhausted today. Just endure it this one time. Don't make everything a battle."

I pressed my lips together into a thin line and stopped touching the controls.

As my cramps worsened and the chill seeped into my bones, Giovanni reached into the center console and pulled out a folded cashmere throw.

"Use this if you're freezing," he muttered.

A foolish flicker of hope touched my chest, and I reached out to take it.

But from the back seat, Serena suddenly spoke up.

"Giovanni, I'm shivering too."

Without a single second of hesitation, Giovanni bypassed my outstretched hand and tossed the expensive cashmere directly to her.

"I told you not to wear such a revealing dress today. Now you know it's cold?"

Serena giggled, a sickly-sweet sound.

"But I have you here, Giovanni. I know you'd never let me freeze."

"You always have an excuse."

He withdrew his gaze and finally noticed my hand still suspended awkwardly in the air.

"Serena bought that specific throw for the car. It belongs to her."

"If you require one, have your assistant purchase a blanket for you next time."

I pulled my hand back and shook my head in utter defeat.

"There's no need."

I was the fool.

I had actually softened for a fleeting second just because he opened the passenger door.

I had made a mistake, and I had to swallow the bitter consequence myself.

During the hour-and-a-half drive, my extremities went completely numb from the freezing AC.

The moment I stepped out of the vehicle, the scorching New York heat wave actually felt like a warm embrace.

Giovanni carefully opened the rear door.

He placed his hand over the doorframe to protect Serena's head as she stepped out like royalty.

Only then did I realize he had parked in front of an exclusive, Syndicate-owned VIP restaurant.

"I am going back to the penthouse."

Giovanni turned to look at me, his eyes narrowing.

"Stop throwing a tantrum."

"You rushed out of the office this morning; you must be starving."

"Serena recommended the chef here and specifically asked me to turn the car around for you. Do not be ungrateful."

The sharp pang of hunger in my stomach forced me to stay silent.

I figured I could just sit at a separate table across the dining room.

But Giovanni shamelessly escorted Serena over and sat directly across from me in the private booth.

"We are a group. There is no need to occupy two tables and draw stares."

Serena raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me.

"What's wrong, Siena? Does our presence ruin your appetite?"

They made no effort to lower their voices.

The dangerous gazes of the surrounding Made Men instantly zeroed in on our booth.

I had no desire to become a spectacle in the underworld, so I remained silent and cut into my food.

After forcing down a few bites of the imported beef, a terrifying itch spread across my face.

Serena pointed at me and suddenly erupted into a sharp, vicious laugh.

"Look at her face! It's covered in hideous red hives! Doesn't she look like a bloated, dying toad?"