Sienna Stone

After our little cuddle nap my stomach growls from missed meals. I missed breakfast and lunch. Now it is later in the evening as the snow stops falling. Leaving eight inches on the ground.

I do hope Nico comes home safe, I'm pissed at him but doesn't mean I stop worrying. The roads are thick of snow and could cause some problems later on.

I got dressed in a pair of short pajamas and matching long-sleeved silky shirt that's button up, its grey--just like my mood. My hair is a mess but didn't quite care at the moment.

The twins got dressed, both kissed my forehead and told me they will be down stairs at the dinning table for dinner.

My gloomy mood still lingering when I make my way barefoot down the stairs to go eat.

I haven't checked my phone, maybe I should, maybe he tried calling me--or maybe I should check in--

Nope. I don't need to check up on him. He is a big boy and can spend his Christmas how he wanted too. Without me.

We eat in silence, the twins have received their gifts, they seem happy nonetheless, even if it was just ties. I haven't got to know them much other than Dimitri is the most outgoing one and Don us the chill one. Maybe soon they will open up to me when the time comes, especially wanting to know about the scar on Dimitri's chin.

"Sweets, did Nico ever tell you why he was leaving?" Dimitri asks, seeming hesitant of his words.

Don watches me intently, he has been this whole time, as if I was about to break any minute. To be honest, I feel like I'm about too at some point, "no. He just said he had business to tend too." I say glumly, stabbing my fork into the pot roast.

"I see. Perhaps when he comes back, he may explain himself."

Stab, "I really don't care."

"He has his moments but today especially results in his behavior--"

Stab, stab, stab, "do. Not. Care." What excuse could there be?

They both zip it and continue poking their food as I have murdered my roasted carrots and potatoes.  Honestly,  I wish we had Christmas music playing--like my Mama--damn...

Sometimes I wish I wasn't in this position to where I shouldn't be calling as such anymore. Knowing what they knowingly have done to me.

Anyway.

Nothing can explain how Nicolai  had talked down to me. Nothing.

I look up to see Don about to open his mouth, "speak and you will meet the end of my fork." I warn, glaring daggers.

Dimitri bites his button lip as if to stop from chuckling, "and we thought Nico had a temper..." he mumbles beneath his breath before taking a sip of his water.

I bit out, "I really don't want to talk about 'he shall not be named' at this dinner table."

And that was that. We ate in silence. They finished and excused themselves, not before both leaning down, kissing my cheeks and wishing me a Merry Christmas before they tend to their duties.

But I stop them before they left, "thank you for giving me company." They both nod and continue on. Leaving me alone at the table, my food barely touched.

Deciding I was done either way I get up and make my way up stairs to my bedroom and lay in bed again. How depressing.

The lights are off and I lay here staring up at the dark ceiling. It's about nine at night and Christmas is almost over.

Closing my eyes  I rest covering up into the sheets.

Until a loud thud is heard from the other side of the bedroom door, my eyes snap open.

I hear the door creak open, heavy footfalls stumbling on the floor. Then the smell of familiar woodsy spice assaults me.

Nico.

Getting up by propping on my elbows I see a dark figure slouching almost crawling, a weird misshapen object  like a cricked triangle with a fluffing ball looking thing at the end greets me.

I clap my hands having the lights turn on. I scream, "oh my jeezuz!"

There, my slouching husband in a red Santa suit that I had bought for him. A Santa hat lain cricked on his head. Holding his cane mid staff as he tried to straighten and stand.

I can tell he is drunk, "you've got to be kidding me?" I say baffled, "you went and got yourself trashed?"

His eyes are hooded, the color red did not suit him when he stumbles closer and leans on the edge of the bed, "I fucked up. I'm so fucked. I killed one of my men for no reason--I'm my father." He croaks out.

What? "Nico, you are not your father. Your just a dick."

He groans closing his eyes and leaning his head down, "I didnt mean what I said before. I-I-" He hick ups.

Be an adult about this Sienna, "you can sleep on whatever couch you like. You can leave."

"Let me explain myself, please." He begs gripping the sheets tightly, so tightly his knuckles whiten.

"Fine." I say.

"Fine." He says.

I huff, "fine."

"My mother died today twenty five years ago."

Damn.

My heart just cracked.

If I'd have known what today was for him, "why didn't you tell me?" I whisper hoarsely.

"Because I'd rather forget that day but now that your here. It brought back memories. I couldn't handle it. I'm sorry, darling. God you have know idea how sorry I am. To leave you alone on your favorite holiday." He tries to reach for my hand, but my instincts kicked in and I moved away from him. My back now leaning on the head board.

"I understand, Nico. Having memories come at you like a nightmare sometimes. Truly. But you could've told me, I am your wife. Don't I deserve the right to have a decent explanation?" I mumble, staring down at my lap. I couldn't meet his eyes, it looked like he had been crying.

If he cries in front of me--

God so help me, he'll make me cry too. I don't need that right now.

And the sight would scare me seeing a grown ass Mafia Boss cry...but than again, it would probably ruin me.

I knew Nico had a soft spot in him, and it was his dead mother.

Nico take a seat on the side of the bed, his head bent down, the white fur ball at the end of his Santa hat swings in front of his face. It was quiet for a while as we stay here in the silence. I can hear his breathing while he could probably hear mine.

"My mother had always saved me from this world while my father tried to discipline a made man's world into me. She'd had fought for me in many ways, which I was young. I didn't understand at the time nor seen anything of wrongness.  I thought my life had been normal up until a point." He sighs out, now leaning his head back and looking up at ceiling, he rubs his neck with the palm of one hand, "she died of sleeping pills. It was Chirstmas morning and father told me to get her. But when I went to get her, she never woken up. I had found an empty pill bottle beside her."

My eye sight blurs from the tears I produced. I wipe my nose before sniffling, my throat closes from the sheer heartbreak I feel for him.

I continue to stay silent as he continues, "but that wasn't how she really died as I grew up more and found out the truth of it all. I became friends with an older teenager who helped me in so many ways. He was the one that taught me more than my own father...how to kill properly--how to find ways to live up to more than just a made man's empire. It's why I have that tattoo I quoted for you." Nico looks over to me, his eyes bloodshot and cheeks red.

The air is knocked out of me seeing his face, seeing how sad he looks.

"It hurt me...to find out my own father for years had abused her. Had only chosen her by namesake for the bloodline to his Empire. Had starved her if she had misbehaved--or detested his words, or by how she wanted to raise me. Realizing that when I was little I asked her why she wasn't eating and why her plate is empty at the table, while we ate as a family. She would tell me 'she wasn't feeling well'. Or the times  I've asked her why does she cry when she is alone but not actually alone because I'd see her from the corners. Now--now thinking back I remember she would tell me whenever I grow up into a man..." he trails off look lost in his own thoughts.

My poor husband. "Nicolai." I whimper his name in utter lost of words.

He clears his throat, not meeting my eyes, "to see weakness as a way of survival instead of as uselessness as my father would think."

Oh my heart.

"But along the way I have lost my way still. I see it as my father of what weakness does to people. So I ignored her wish and now I fucking wish I didn't."

A thought occurred to me, "so that's why you killed your father? That's the reason."

"Da."

"And I assume this person who taught you to fight was...Caspian. " It felt weird saying my blood fathers name, "Nico." I call his name.

Nico turns his head to face me, his eyes swirling with an emotion I wanted to siphon away with words, "you are not your father. Not even close, caro. Your mother would be proud of you too."

Everything I said I meant it from the heart.

Nicolai Stone maybe a stone cold killer to others but to me...

More...much more.

His brilliant blue eyes flick down to my mouth then back up to my eyes, "did you see the doctor after your fall?" He asks, voice soft.

Shit a brick.

I didn't. Oops.

"Um..." I hesitate, "no?"

"Sienna Lionessa!" He raises his voice, gripping my ankle and tugging me closer to him. "You could have had a broken bone or--"

"Oh come on! I'm not that hurt! I just fell on my ass--"

"It's important that you are to see the doctor for that nasty fall you had. Sienna." He chastises me, eyes narrowing.

I scoff, "don't look at me like that. I'm a big girl and know when to see a doctor."

And here we go, bantering.

We have this heated argument for the past five minutes before his bipolar ass asks me, "have you eaten?"

He is on a role today. Because I barely ate and mostly slept. "Eh." I shrug. My answer did not appease him one bit.

"You are killing me here, darling." Nico sighs heavily. His Santa hat falling off his head.

A small smile crosses my face, "I guess I'm on Santa's naughty list this year?"

"Net. Your on his naughty list indefinitely." He says, voice filled with finality and promise.

"Let's get you something to eat." Nico gets up slowly, taking his cane, "my wife will not go without food, I don't care if your not hungry. You will not be lacking anything with me around."

My heart is stampeding, "I won't be lacking anything--so that means I can get a puppy?"

Nico smirks when he gets closer to me, bending down until his face is an inch away from mine, "Santa still says your on the naughty list."

Ugh, I tried.

I poke his nose which causes his eyes to cross. I giggle, "oh, eventually I'll get a puppy. Just you wait." I tease.

"Don't test me, wife." He growls and kisses my cheek. I can smell a hint of hard liquor in his breath, "I'm sorry for ruining your favorite holiday."

I understand why he did what he did, but still he talked down to me like a child...

I promised myself to be an adult about this.

So I tell him, "you are still sleeping on a couch."

Nico looks at me like I've lost my mind, "but--"

I shake my head, "no. You still treated me like shit. So find somewhere else to sleep, caro."

He looks like I'd kicked him in the guts from my words, "come on. I want to cuddle with you."

Merda. He knows I love cuddles, but not as much as he does, "maybe next time think before you say awful things to me." I shrug.

I can feel the heat in his stare as we stare at each other for a long moment in a silent battle. As if him look at me like that would change my mind--vise versa.

I thought I'd take victory in winning this little battle we made but then he went on to say something that stuns me.

"Let me say this in Spanish for you," he grabs ahold of the front of my neck and squeezes gently, "no."

No.

He just said no. That he isn't going to do as I said to him.

Oh this guy has nerve, "God, it's just a couch to sleep. You can sleep without me for one night." I reason.

If I know better I'd say he is the one acting like the child when he continues, "I'm not sleeping on a damn couch when I have a bed with my perfect wife in the sheets."

I lick my lips, "maybe you should have thought about your actions early."

He finally seems to let up, letting go of my neck, "alright you win."

I smile, "alright."

He mutters, "alright."

"Alright." I counter putting the last word in.

"Fucking hell, woman." He reaches for me and kisses my lips before getting up and lending me a hand, "lets get you food."

I just realized why he always wanted to know if I have eaten or why he gets mad if I haven't. Or when he watches me eat all the time. Thinking it was some sort of fetish of his.

It's because his father starved his mother as punishment.

Remembering the first dinner we had together that one late night when I tried to go on a food strike out of spite.

"I will not eat until you eat first, I will not have you defy me on food, Sienna. Not this. Anything but this. So eat."

My heart.