Finn practically hustled Sienna into a new speakeasy tucked away in the Meatpacking District.
The lighting inside was dim and moody, but compared to the usual late-night ragers fueled by heavy metal and bad decisions, the afternoon vibe was relatively chill. A cluster of trendy types were gathered around a brass-accented bar, their eyes snapping toward Finn and Sienna the second they walked in.
Someone let out a low, trashy whistle. A few girls at the end of the bar looked Sienna up and down with that classic "who is she?" judgey stare.
"Yo, Finn! Is this why you've been ghosting us lately? Bringing the 'sweetheart' around to mark your territory?" A girl in a sequined tank top, swirling a martini, was the first to sashay over.
Camilo, the bar owner, felt his pulse spike. He didn't stop the peanut gallery from heckling; he just stood back, reading the look on Finn's face.
Finn Vanderbilt was a legend in this scene—and not always for the right reasons. He came from serious Old Money, and his past wild streaks were long enough to fill a whole year of Page Six headlines. But lately, he'd pulled a disappearing act. Word on the street was that the golden boy was actually spotting tables at the Ritz-Carlton.
The inner circle was whispering about whether the Vanderbilts had gone bankrupt, but only Camilo knew the truth: Finn was just hyper-focused on a new "catch."
Finn had rolled up in a beat-up Ford worth less than ten grand today, but it was a total front—just a costume to help him get close to the girl working her way through college.
Finn shifted slightly, low-key blocking the girl in sequins from getting too close to Sienna.
"Watch it, Lily. How many of those have you had? You can barely stand," he snapped. When he turned back to Sienna, his voice went soft and borderline desperate to please. "They're just friends of friends, Sienna. They get loud after a few drinks. Don't let them get to you."
Sienna took in the scene—the girl's outfit was pure New York party girl: too much skin and way too much jewelry. In this room, Sienna felt like an alien who'd crashed onto a different planet.
As an NYU student, her "wild nights" usually topped out at a picnic in Central Park or hitting up a cheap Broadway preview with Mira. Here, the air was thick with hormones and unfiltered lust. It made her skin crawl. Her face was flushed bright red, and her palms were starting to sweat.
Finn tried to pull her toward the bar, but Sienna kept her head down. If her mother—the woman who lived and died by "reputation"—knew she was in a place like this, she'd snatch away Sienna's last bit of freedom in a heartbeat.
As Finn approached, the crowd at the bar got the hint and scattered. Finn clapped Camilo on the shoulder. "Get them into a booth, man. When do you actually open?"
"Soft launch starts at four, but the real chaos hits at seven-thirty," Camilo said, nodding politely at Sienna. "Next time Finn brings you, keep it in the afternoon. It's more of a lounge vibe then. Not so loud."
Finn hopped onto a barstool and guided Sienna onto the one next to him.
"Today was a fluke. New spot, I had to show face for the old crew. Next time we'll go somewhere quiet." Under the cover of the dark bar, Finn reached out and squeezed her hand. He was losing his mind with excitement but tried to play it cool, checking her face for any sign of a "yes."
Camilo watched Finn—a guy who usually had his pick of any girl in Manhattan—looking like he'd just won the lottery because he got to hold her hand. Man, Camilo thought, he's got it bad.
He glanced at the girl again. She was stunning, sure—fresh and bright like a wild berry—但 but she was clearly a "good girl" who hadn't been tainted by the city yet. Could a girl this "clean" really keep a reformed playboy interested?
Sienna turned down a drink, and Finn didn't push it. In a place this charged, every time he leaned in, she flinched like a startled deer.
Finn completely checked out of the conversation with his friends. He was 100% locked on Sienna.
The more she pulled away, the more he wanted her. His eyes were glued to her lips. He had one goal today: just one kiss. Even a graze.
He hadn't slept right in weeks because of her. He knew her temper—if he moved too fast, she'd bolt. So, the seasoned pro was patiently playing the part of the "sweet coworker."
Finally, the suffocating, alien vibe of the bar became too much for Sienna. She didn't want to embarrass him, but her heart was racing for all the wrong reasons. She yanked her hand away and bolted for the exit.
Outside, the afternoon Manhattan sun hit her eyes like a spotlight. Standing on the sidewalk, listening to the roar of traffic and honking cabs, she felt like she'd just stepped out of a dream.
"Sienna!"
Finn was right behind her. He hadn't wanted to leave his own party, but between his "bros" and the girl of his dreams, it wasn't even a contest. For the first time in his life, he was down for the count.
Sienna didn't look back; she just kept walking.
Finn caught up, cutting her off. "Are you mad at me?"
He stepped into her space, his hand blurring through the air. With a quick flick of his wrist, a perfect red rose appeared between his fingers.
Sienna froze, her eyes wide. "You... you do magic?"
Finn smiled. In that moment, he looked genuinely innocent. "I don't. But for you, I'd learn anything."
He looked at her, his eyes full of everything he was feeling, and held the rose out. He was waiting.
Sienna's heart gave a heavy thud. She wasn't stupid—she knew a movie-style confession when she saw one.
But then she remembered her plan to vanish after graduation. She remembered the Thompsons, and the devil himself—Julian Blackwood. She looked down, terrified to say anything.
Every spark she felt now was just a down payment on future pain.
"I can tell... you're probably really popular in that world," she whispered, trying to deflect.
When she didn't take the flower and gave him that "we're from different worlds" line, Finn panicked. He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eye.
"Sienna!"
She looked up, drowning in the intensity of his gaze.
Finn couldn't hold it back anymore. His voice shook with the weight of it. "I like you, Sienna. Like, really like you. I know you can feel it. I took a job spotting tables at a hotel just to be near you. I let managers who make peanuts yell at me like I'm an idiot just so I could see your face every day."
"For you, I quit all my bullshit. I stopped smoking, I stopped hitting the clubs, I cut off every 'friend' who was a bad influence. I know I'm not perfect yet, but I swear, for you, I'll be the man you can actually lean on."
Sienna was floored. The raw, unfiltered honesty of it hit her like a physical wave.
Finn was the Manhattan dream—handsome, sweet, rich, but willing to get his hands dirty for her. Back in high school, she'd had a crush on that old-school anime Slam Dunk, and standing here, Finn looked exactly like a real-life Kaede Rukawa.
The first time she'd seen him in the kitchen, she'd lost her breath for a second. She'd wondered why the universe had decided to drop a literal ray of sunshine into her boring shift.
It wasn't just that he was hot—it was that he was good to her. There were plenty of pretty girls working at the hotel, but his smiles were only for her. That kind of "only you" treatment was exactly what her inner teenage girl had been craving.
"Sienna, I know this is a lot. But I can't stop thinking about you."
Finn held his breath, waiting. He leaned down slightly, catching her gaze. "Do you... do you like me back?"