The morning sunlight bled through the blinds, soft and golden, but Sienna didn't move. She lay still in the huge bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts louder than any city noise.
Damien's touch from the night before lingered on her skin—the warmth of his hand on hers, the gentle way he said her name like it meant something. She hadn't expected that side of him. Vulnerable. Honest.
And that terrified her.
This was supposed to be pretend. But each day, each look, each moment alone in this apartment they shared—it chipped away at the lie.
She got out of bed slowly, throwing on one of the silk robes he'd insisted she keep. As she padded into the kitchen, she found a note on the marble counter in his neat handwriting:
Had an early meeting. I'll be back by noon. Don't forget to eat something other than coffee. —D.
She smiled faintly despite herself, folding the note and tucking it into the pocket of her robe. Then her phone buzzed.
Ethan: We need to talk. I need closure, Sienna. Five minutes, that's all.
She stared at the screen. Part of her wanted to ignore it, pretend he didn't exist. But deep down, she knew this was the last tie she needed to cut. Not for him. For herself.
She typed back:
Sienna: One hour. Café on 7th.
The café was tucked in a quiet corner, its soft jazz music a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside her. She sat by the window, fingers wrapped around a warm cup of tea she hadn't touched.
Ethan arrived ten minutes late, still wearing the cocky smile she once mistook for charm. He slid into the seat across from her without asking.
"You look incredible," he said.
Sienna didn't bother responding.
He leaned forward. "Look, I know I messed up. And maybe I waited too long to say this, but I miss you. Us."
"There is no 'us,' Ethan," she said calmly. "You made sure of that."
His smile faltered. "It wasn't just about the cheating. We were under pressure. I was—"
"You were selfish," she cut in. "You made me question my worth, and the worst part is I let you. I waited for apologies that never came. I convinced myself you'd change."
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Truly. But this thing with Damien—it's not real, right?"
Her fingers tightened around her cup. "That's none of your business."
"You moved on fast, Sienna. Doesn't that bother you?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "What bothers me is how long I let you control the narrative."
Ethan opened his mouth, but she stood.
"You got your five minutes. We're done here."
As she turned to leave, he stood too. "Is he worth it?"
She paused, not looking back. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I know I am."
And with that, she walked out.
The ride back to the penthouse felt lighter somehow, like she'd left more than just Ethan behind at that café. She didn't know where things stood with Damien, but for the first time in months, she felt in control of her own story.
She stepped inside the apartment and froze. Damien was home—earlier than expected—standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a bottle of wine open beside him.
Their eyes met. He frowned slightly. "You okay?"
Sienna nodded, walking in slowly. "I had to deal with something."
"Ethan?"
She didn't deny it.
"I just needed to close that door," she said. "For myself."
He nodded, watching her carefully. "You look... different."
"Lighter?"
He smiled faintly. "Yeah."
There was a pause, and then he motioned toward the wine. "Want some?"
"It's noon."
"It's five o'clock somewhere."
She laughed, the sound catching her off guard. Damien poured two glasses and handed her one.
They stood in the kitchen, shoulder to shoulder, the tension thick but different now—no longer cold or confusing. Just charged.
"I meant what I said last night," Damien said suddenly.
She looked up at him.
"That something's happening between us," he continued. "But I'm not going to push. You don't owe me anything."
"I know," she said softly.
He reached up slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was so gentle, so uncharacteristically tender, that it made her breath hitch.
"You don't have to say anything," he murmured. "But if this ever stops feeling fake for you... let me know."
Sienna's heart pounded in her chest. She didn't trust herself to speak, so she nodded.
They stayed like that for a moment—quiet, close, not quite touching.
Then Damien stepped back, giving her space, and the spell broke.
"I have another meeting," he said, setting his glass down. "But I'll be back before dinner."
She nodded again, watching him disappear down the hall.
Only when she was alone did she finally exhale.
Something was happening. And it was real enough to scare her.
But for now, that was enough.