The penthouse was quiet. Almost eerily so.
Sienna stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at the glittering skyline of New York, but her mind was nowhere near it. The dress she wore earlier still clung to her figure, unzipped halfway down her back. She hadn't even bothered changing. She was too wired to sleep, too tense to think.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a message from Eva—her best friend and the only one who knew the truth.
Eva: All settled in? Don't forget you're doing this for your son. We've got him tonight. He's safe.
Sienna's fingers trembled as she typed her reply.
Sienna: I know. Thank you. Tell him Mommy loves him.
She didn't dare write more. Tears threatened behind her eyes, but she blinked them back.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.
She turned sharply. Damien.
He appeared at the doorway of her room, his silhouette framed by the dim lighting of the penthouse. He wasn't in a suit now—just black pants and a gray t-shirt that hugged his chest and arms in a way that made it hard to breathe.
"I thought you'd be asleep," he said, his voice lower at night, a little rougher.
"I was just… thinking," she replied.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "About?"
She gave a tight smile. "How I ended up here, in a penthouse with a man who once promised me the world… and now hands me contracts instead."
His jaw ticked. "Is that what you think this is? A transaction?"
"Isn't it?"
A beat passed. Then, softly, he said, "You left, Sienna. Without a word. What did you expect this to be?"
Her breath hitched.
She couldn't tell him. Not yet.
He walked into the room slowly, every step deliberate, like he was hunting a truth between them.
"I would've looked for you," he said, his voice quiet but fierce. "I would've followed you to the ends of the damn earth if you'd let me."
"Then why didn't you?" she whispered.
His brow furrowed. "You disappeared. Changed numbers. Moved. I thought you didn't want to be found."
She swallowed, throat tight. "I didn't… I couldn't—"
Damien's gaze darkened. "Couldn't what?"
Tell him he had a son? That she'd been pregnant and alone and scared out of her mind?
Instead, she turned away. "Forget it. This arrangement is temporary. We don't need to relive the past."
He stepped closer until he was directly behind her. His voice brushed her ear. "The past is already here, Sienna. Living with me. Wearing my ring. Sleeping in my guest room."
She turned slowly, facing him. "You're the one who asked me to fake a relationship."
"You could've said no."
She scoffed. "Could I have? Really?"
Silence stretched between them again, this time heavier.
Then, unexpectedly, his hand lifted. He reached out like he was going to touch her—her face, her hair, her lips—but stopped just short.
"You still get under my skin," he muttered.
Sienna's breath caught.
"Then maybe you should stay out of my room," she whispered.
His eyes dropped to her lips. Just once. Then he stepped back.
"Big day tomorrow," he said, mask sliding back into place. "Sleep."
And just like that, he was gone.
Left alone, Sienna closed the door and leaned against it, heart pounding.
She couldn't do this.
Living with him.
Pretending.
Lying every second of every day.
Her gaze shifted toward the small suitcase in the corner, tucked away like a secret. Inside, hidden beneath the false lashes and designer gowns Damien's team had sent over, was a worn baby blanket. Her son's first. The only thing she'd brought from home.
Sienna crossed the room, pulled it out, and clutched it to her chest.
He was growing fast. Starting to babble. His curls were thick and dark, his eyes the same icy gray as Damien's.
He'd never met his father.
But he would.
One day.
She just didn't know if it would break them all when that truth finally came out.
Because secrets had a way of unraveling everything.
Even love.