Chapter 7: Sienna

Our conversation still lingered on the fringes of my mind, even though it had happened yesterday. I couldn't believe it when I'd seen him there, standing in front of that painting.

I had almost retreated when our eyes locked; the connection that sparked between us was like electricity, and I was shocked by it. Being in his presence made my knees quake and my throat dry, but I loved the feeling—that sense of vulnerability I had around him.

Even now, his aura still clung to me, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

I was at the table, having lunch with my parents, but my mind was reliving the beautiful encounter at the art gallery.

Fiona had done me a solid by inviting me to the gallery opening. Part of the reason this excited me so much was that our meeting wasn't planned.

Hell, he was the last person I would've thought I'd run into yesterday.

This was all the work of the universe—fate, destiny, whatever term best fit the scenario. But I was grateful that we'd run into each other.

I couldn't understand why my parents didn't want him around, especially Mom. Vlad was a pretty interesting man. He was cold and probably as ruthless as they claimed, but he was also a wonderful person.

He and I were so different, but that's what made this bond more special. We were nothing alike, yet I was drawn to him as much as he was drawn to me. Or at least, I hoped so.

Those five minutes I'd spent talking with him had been on repeat in my mind since I left him yesterday. And now, I was wondering if he was affected by me, just as I was deeply affected by him.

"You alright, honey?" Dad asked, directing his question to me.

"Huh?" I responded, confused.

Mom was busy digging into her salad, her fork clanking against the plate.

"Are you alright?" he repeated.

"Yes," I replied, trying to get a hold of myself.

"You've barely touched your food," Mom said.

"What?" I hadn't quite caught what she said; it was as if my hearing had suddenly failed or something.

"You seem distracted," Dad said, munching on his vegetables.

"I'm not. I'm just…." I exhaled slowly. "It's nothing anyway." I picked up my fork and began eating the lobster on my plate.

Mom and Dad exchanged glances and returned to eating in silence, leaving me to my thoughts.

Fiona freaked out when I told her all about Vlad.

"Hold on," she said, sitting on the bed in my room. "Let's see if I get this straight."

I was standing by my table, chewing on my fingernails, watching her eyes widen like a camera lens zooming in.

"So, you're saying that the hot man from the gallery opening is your father's best friend…." Her brows were raised as she fixed her gaze on me.

I nodded.

"And now, you're attracted to this man…your father's best friend," she added as though she was still processing it and needed my response for confirmation.

"Shh. Keep your voice down!" I exclaimed softly.

"Okay, sorry," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "It's just…." Fiona burst out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?" My mouth dropped open like a trapdoor falling.

"I'm sorry, but this sounds like some Pornhub shit," she replied amidst chuckles.

"Haha, very funny!" I rolled my eyes at her statement.

"But it does," she insisted.

"I'm serious, Fi!" I grumbled, tossing myself into my chair.

"Okay. Alright. Walk me through how you feel," she said.

I sighed heavily, burying my face in my palms. "Argh! I find him so irresistible—you saw the man; he's gorgeous!"

"Yeah…" Fiona drawled lazily. "He is."

"I don't know what to do, Fi. It's like you said, this is like a scene straight out of an adult movie." I rubbed my eyes.

"Do you think your parents know?" she asked.

I shot a glance at her. "That I have a huge crush on my father's friend? I don't think so." I paused. "I mean, Mom might suspect, but—"

"Quick question," she cut me off. "What would you do if this ‘crush' grows into something deeper?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

I hated it when Fiona got all serious with me, and her stare wasn't helping at all.

"Okay, you need to stop looking at me like that." I rose to my feet, massaging my temples.

"Like what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Like that!" I blurted out, gesturing at the seriousness etched on her face. "It's…it's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh, I'm sorry." The sarcasm in her statement was glaring. "Do you think your parents would make you feel comfortable if they were the ones asking this question?"

She had a valid point.

"Sienna, we need to understand how you feel—how you truly feel—and to do that, you need to start talking…from your heart," she said.

I heaved a sigh. "Well, if what I feel for Vlad turns out to be something deeper as you said, then I'll go for it…if he's willing to do the same."

She looked at me, as if searching my soul. "And if your parents object?"

"If someone had objected to their union decades ago, and they listened, then I wouldn't have been born."

"So, you're saying you'd go against them, then?" It was supposed to be a question, but it didn't sound like it.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," I replied.

"I like the sound of that," she said. "Well, if Vlad would make you happy, then you have my blessings—if that's even a thing."

We laughed. It felt good talking to her about this whole bizarre situation, and her support meant a lot to me.

"It'll be nice having a friend who's married to a powerful Russian mafia boss," she teased.

"Marriage?" My eyebrows shot up, eyes wide with shock. "Hold on a second, you're taking this way too far—we're barely in the talking stage."

"We're thinking out loud, aren't we?" She smiled, and gradually, her look became solemn. "Sienna, do you really like this man?"

Worry washed over her face, and I could tell she only wanted to be sure that I knew exactly what I was getting myself into.

"I mean, you said it yourself: He's a mafia boss—that shit comes with a lot of death and chaos, Si," she added, her eyes fixed on me. "Are you sure you're ready for what comes with being associated with this man?"

I thought for a moment and said, "It might sound a little weird, but I believe I'll be safe around him."

"That's weird, Sia. Not a little weird."

I sighed. "Look, I know how it sounds, and I might be moving too fast, but I feel…I feel safe around him, you know." The break came when I groped for the right word to better describe my feelings. "It's still a little too early to decide how exactly I feel about him. So, let's see how it goes."

"However it turns out. I'll be here," she said, her tone supportive and kind. "Just be careful, Sia. The mafia isn't something to take lightly. It'll be like playing with fire and expecting not to get burned."

She was right, and that made my heart skip a beat. I was indeed playing with fire, but was I ready to get burned?

"Thanks, Fi." I exhaled softly. "I'll be careful."

I watched my parents eat in silence and decided to raise the controversial topic that I was certain would catch them off guard. Then, I dove headfirst into the sensitive subject, shattering the uneasy calm.

"I ran into Vlad at the gallery opening yesterday," I declared.

Mom's eyes widened, and she spluttered, choking back on a mouthful of her drink.

Oops! Here we go.

"Sorry." Dad passed her a napkin and then looked at me, surprised. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. We had a long talk," I replied, watching the tension arise between us.

"You had a long talk," Mom repeated, chuckling like she was nervous. "They had a long talk, Paul. Can you believe that?" She faced him. Her laughter was a clear indication of her disapproval and disbelief. She was holding back on something, using her laughs as cover.

I had brought this up on purpose, to see their reaction—the expressions they would wear. I needed to know if there was any chance at all that they would accept my feelings for Vlad. But with the way Mom was acting up, I didn't think I'd get any approval.

"How did you two meet?" Dad asked me.

"He was staring at a painting, and I was drawn to him—I mean, to it—the painting, not Vlad, obviously," I answered, stumbling on my words with a stutter.

"Oh, God," Mom whispered to herself, her face bent over and shoulders sagging under the weight of my words.

Dad looked me straight in the eye, quietly chewing on his dessert. "What did you guys talk about?"

"Stuff," I said casually, sipping my drink.

"Anything particularly interesting?"

"Not really?" I replied, intentionally going round and round.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Mom grumbled under her breath.

"Well, half of the time, we talked majorly about the painting and how we both interpreted it," I replied, poking my lobster with the tines of my fork.

"And the other half, what did you two talk about?" Dad inquired.

I was about to respond when I caught Mom glaring at him as if to say , stop it, you're indulging her .

"What?" I asked her, confused as to the meaning of that look. "What is it?"

She didn't respond, and her eyes were still fixed on him.

"Can someone please tell me something? What is going on here?" I demanded an answer.

He hesitated for a moment. "It's nothing, my dear." He placed a palm on the back of my hand. "Don't worry about it." Dad smiled and faced his dessert.

I turned to face her, and she struggled to squeeze out a smile.

"Mom?" I called out, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Hmm?" She looked at me, pretending like she didn't know why I called her attention.

"What's with all this tension at the mention of Vlad?" I asked.

"Tension?" She scoffed. "What're you talking about? There's no tension here, is there, Paul?"

He shook his head.

"It's nothing, sweetheart." She reached out and touched my hand with a smile she'd managed to muster.

They were both hiding something, but Dad was handling it better. The news about my encounter with Vlad had them riled up, but Dad was acting like he was cool with it.

Mom, on the other hand, had a whole lot of work to do on her acting skills because her efforts at deception were painfully transparent. She tried to pretend, to feign nonchalance, but she couldn't look me in the eye, and her posture was stiff: a testament to her discomfort.

It was obvious that Mom was worried about me, but why was she trying so hard to hide it?