The ride back to Damien's penthouse was suffocatingly silent.
Sienna tried to focus on the city lights flashing past the window, on the hum of the car's engine—anything to keep from dwelling on the way Damien had looked at her back at the gala. The way he had almost kissed her.
And how, for a fleeting second, she had wanted him to.
She stole a glance at him.
He sat beside her, his face a perfect mask of control, his hand resting on his knee in a deceptively relaxed manner.
But she wasn't fooled.
The way his fingers drummed absently against his slacks—the slightest, most human crack in his otherwise unshakable composure—told her that something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Damien stilled.
For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.
Then, with a sigh, he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.
"I hate events like this," he admitted, his voice lower than usual.
Sienna frowned. "You didn't seem like you hated it."
His lips curved, but it wasn't quite a smile. "That's the point, isn't it?"
Something in his tone made her chest tighten.
"What do you mean?"
His eyes flicked open, but instead of looking at her, he turned toward the window. "People see what they want to see."
Sienna studied him. "And what do they see when they look at you?"
Damien let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it.
"They see power. They see money. They see a man who always has the upper hand." He tilted his head slightly, his gaze finally meeting hers. "What do you see?"
Sienna's breath caught.
She should have said the same thing. The same cold, calculated image he had crafted for the world to believe.
But now, sitting in the dim glow of the limousine, she saw something else.
Someone else.
"I see…" She hesitated. "Someone who hides behind a mask."
Something flickered in his eyes.
For a moment, she thought he would brush it off. Laugh it away.
But instead, he exhaled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"My mother loved those events," he said quietly. "She used to tell me that power isn't about how much money you have. It's about how well you can control the story people believe about you."
Sienna frowned. "Your mother?"
Damien rarely spoke about his family.
It was almost as if they didn't exist.
His expression darkened. "She was the perfect socialite. Always smiling. Always charming. But behind closed doors… she was trapped."
Sienna's chest tightened. "Trapped how?"
Damien's jaw clenched. He hesitated, as if debating whether to say more.
Then, finally, he exhaled.
"My father was… controlling," he admitted. "To the world, they were the perfect couple. But at home, he dictated every part of her life. Who she spoke to. What she wore. How she behaved."
Sienna's stomach twisted.
She had seen glimpses of Damien's ruthless business side, but she had never imagined this—never imagined that his past held something so painful.
"She smiled through it all," he continued. "Because that's what people expected of her. And when she got sick… she still played her role. Right up until the end."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Sienna swallowed. "I'm sorry."
Damien didn't say anything for a long moment.
Then, he let out a quiet chuckle.
"Funny, isn't it?" he murmured. "She spent her whole life making sure people saw what they wanted to see. And I…" He exhaled. "I became just like her."
Sienna's heart clenched.
"Damien…" she started, but he shook his head.
"It doesn't matter," he said, straightening. His mask slipped back into place, his expression once again unreadable. "What matters is keeping up appearances. Making sure this arrangement serves its purpose."
Just like that, the moment was gone.
But Sienna had seen.
She had seen the cracks beneath the surface, the vulnerability he worked so hard to hide.
And she wasn't sure she would ever be able to unsee it.
As the car slowed to a stop in front of his penthouse, Sienna made a decision.
She reached for his hand.
The touch was light—barely there—but he felt it.
His fingers tensed beneath hers, but he didn't pull away.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, finally, Damien turned his head and met her gaze.
Something shifted between them.
Something dangerous.
Something real.
And for the first time, Sienna wondered if pretending was going to be enough anymore.