Sienna
He stands there for a moment looking at me with surprise, but he recovers quickly and smiles, comes inside.
“You weren’t introduced to me,” he says, and I really have to pay attention to understand him because his accent is so heavy. “I’m Declan Adams, Giovanni’s half-brother.” He holds out his hand.
I put my sandwich down, force myself to swallow the bite in my mouth and place my hand in his. “I’m Sienna.”
“Sienna. It’s nice to meet you. You missed dinner.”
“I must have slept through it.”
“We didn’t want to wake you. The maid said you were fast asleep.”
“Where’s Giovanni?” I ask.
He shrugs a shoulder and moves to the counter. “Who knows?” he asks, opening a cupboard and taking out an unmarked bottle of liquor. “You like whiskey?” he asks, turning to me.
He seems different than Giovanni. Not as hardened.
“It’s our own,” he says, not waiting for my answer but taking two glasses and returning to the table to take a seat across from me. “Don’t mind me. Eat,” he says, pouring whiskey into both glasses and passing one to me.
I take a bite but have to concentrate on chewing. I can’t seem to drag my eyes away. The similarity in features is so striking, but the differences are just as stunning.
And he’s like a window into Giovanni’s life. A living, breathing part of a world Giovanni won’t or can’t share.
“Are you normally up at three in the morning?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
He gives a sad little smile. “It’s been a long few weeks. And now with my brother back, they’ll be longer still.”
I nod. I don’t know what to say.
He picks up the toy train, touches the chipped corner.
“Is there a child in the house? I saw the toys in the living room.”
“Aye,” he says. “My boy.”
“Your son?” I smile, remember the photo I’d seen with him holding the baby. But then I think about Giovanni out there in Las Vegas alone in that sterile penthouse and I can’t imagine how he’d walk away from this.
“His name is James. He’s four years old. I’m sure he’ll come find you first thing in the morning, which means in about four hours-if you’re lucky,” he says, checking his watch. “He’s an early riser.”
“I look forward to meeting him. Does Benjamin live here with you as well?”
“Yes, the family’s always lived together in the house. It’s big enough. But Giovanni will be changing that.”
“What do you mean?”
He watches me, drinks a sip of his whiskey, doesn’t answer my question. “You’ll need warmer clothes than that,” he says. He gestures to my sweater. It’s too light for here.
I look down at it. “Oh, I didn’t have much time to pack and the climate is so different.”
“You live in Las Vegas?”
I nod.
“Constant sunshine?”
“Yes. And constant noise.”
“I don’t think I could stomach either.”
“I guess it’d be hard coming from all this.”
“Giovanni seems to have managed.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “I’ll take you into town tomorrow if you like. It’s not far. We’ll get you proper clothes.”
“Oh, I… Giovanni-”
“Giovanni’s going to have his hands full with the house. Try the whiskey.”
I pick up my glass, look at the clear bottle without the label as I sip. It’s the same bottle Giovanni has in the penthouse.
“It’s quite good. Not so…”
“Pretentious,” he says, refilling his glass.
I smile. “Yeah, not so pretentious. It’s your own, you said? You make it?”
“Family distillery. But I imagine it’ll be closing down soon if my brother has his way.”
“There’s a family distillery?”
“Hasn’t Giovanni told you anything about us?”
“He doesn’t say much about his past,” I say, then think I shouldn’t have said that.
“I gather he wouldn’t.”
“What do you mean it’ll be closing if Giovanni has his way?”
He studies me, eyes keen. They’re dark, blue-black. The color is very different than Giovanni’s but the intensity with which he looks at me is the same.
It’s almost intrusive, the way the Adams men look at you.
“That’s a very long story my brother should tell. He’s been the mastermind of the dismantling of all things Adams for more than a decade now. I’m sure I’ll miss details.”
Dismantling?
“Oh.” I suddenly think of it. “I haven’t even told you I’m sorry for the loss of your father.”
“And mother,” he says, his expression changing a little, making him look ten years younger for a moment. Like a boy. A lost one.
“Your mother too?” Giovanni had left that out.
He nods. “Car accident took them both. She was killed instantly. I think it was a blessing. My father took a few days to die.”
“God. I feel like an idiot. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You’re not an idiot. I don’t imagine Giovanni likes to talk about her. And I don’t blame him, honestly.”
I’m surprised by this last admission. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What’s the tension between you two?”
He leans back in his chair and studies me. “Now that’s a truly long story. And not a pretty one.”
“I don’t mean to pry.”
“Giovanni doesn’t like me very much, Sienna.”
There’s a sound I don’t recognize but I notice him momentarily shift his gaze over my shoulder.
“He’s filled with hate and holds a lot of anger inside him,” he continues.
“I’ve seen that,” I admit, remembering his temper.
“You be careful with him,” he says.
“She should be careful with me?”
I gasp at the deep timbre of Giovanni’s voice and turn to find him lurking in the shadows, having come out of some dark corridor like a ghost.
“Sienna seems like a nice girl,” Declan says, and a glance at him shows me he’s neither surprised nor unsettled by Giovanni’s sudden appearance. Maybe he even likes this. He likes goading his brother. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt her like you do everything you touch.” He casually swallows his whiskey.