Sienna had forgotten what it felt like to sleep through the night.
Not the restless half-sleep she'd survived on for three years, one ear always listening for Alessandro's key in the lock, her body trained to wake up and be presentable at any hour he decided to come home. Real sleep. The kind where you woke up confused about what day it was, sheets tangled around your legs, sunlight streaming through windows you'd chosen yourself.
She stretched in her bed—her actual bed in her actual apartment that she paid for with her actual paycheck—and checked her phone. 7:15 AM. Her alarm wouldn't go off for another fifteen minutes, but she was already awake, mind buzzing with the day ahead.
The Sterling & Cross holiday party. Open bar, fancy appetizers, and according to Jade, "the perfect opportunity to flirt with that cute guy from the design team who's been making eyes at you for three months."
Sienna wasn't ready for the design guy. Wasn't sure she was ready for any guy, really. But she was ready to show up at a company party and not feel like she had to hide in the bathroom every twenty minutes to text someone that she'd be home soon, that she hadn't forgotten about him, that she was still his even in a room full of other people.
Her phone buzzed. Not Alessandro—she'd blocked that number two months ago after the texts had gone from "I miss you" to "This is childish" to "Fine, have your tantrum." But her therapist, Dr. Chen, with a reminder about their session tomorrow.
Dr. Chen: "Remember to journal about the party tonight. Note any anxiety triggers, but also—and this is important—note the moments you feel genuinely happy. You're allowed to feel good, Sienna. I know that's still hard to believe, but it's true."
Six months ago, Jade had physically dragged her to Dr. Chen's office. "You just left a three-year situationship with a man who kept you like a Victorian mistress," Jade had said, shoving her through the door. "You need professional help processing that, and I love you, but wine and bitching about him to me is not the same as therapy."
Jade had been right. Therapy had been... uncomfortable at first. Hard. All those sessions picking apart why she'd stayed so long, why she'd accepted so little, why she'd believed that being chosen in private was better than not being chosen at all.
"You learned early that love was conditional," Dr. Chen had said during their fourth session. "Your mother worked three jobs. You rarely saw her. When you did, you were desperate for her attention. You learned to be accommodating. Undemanding. Easy. Because easy children got scraps of affection, and scraps were better than nothing."
Hearing it laid out like that had made Sienna cry for an hour straight.
But it had also made her angry. The kind of anger that was useful, that pushed her to apply for the job at Sterling & Cross even though she'd been terrified of the interview. That made her negotiate her salary instead of just accepting their first offer. That helped her recognize when she was shrinking herself to make someone else comfortable.
She rolled out of bed, padded to her kitchen—small but hers, decorated with plants she was managing not to kill and artwork from a local market that made her smile. Made coffee in the French press she'd bought herself. Checked her reflection in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back.
Six months, and she'd cut her hair into a sharp bob that framed her face. Started wearing red lipstick. Bought clothes that fit the body she actually had instead of the one Alessandro had preferred. She looked... powerful. Confident. Like someone who knew her own worth.
"Fake it till you make it," she told her reflection, same as she did every morning.
Except lately, she wasn't sure she was faking anymore.
Sterling & Cross occupied three floors of a building in Midtown, all glass and steel and the kind of modern aesthetic that screamed "we're creative but also very serious about profit margins." Sienna had been here for five months now, and last week they'd promoted her to Senior Marketing Strategist.
"You've exceeded every expectation," her boss Miranda had said, sliding the new contract across her desk. "The Hartwell campaign alone brought in three new clients. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
What she was doing was working. Just... working. Throwing herself into projects with the kind of focus she used to reserve for analyzing Alessandro's moods, trying to predict when he'd be warm and when he'd be distant. Turned out, that same energy applied to marketing strategy made her very, very good at her job.
The holiday party was already in full swing by the time she arrived. The venue was some trendy rooftop space in Chelsea, fairy lights strung everywhere, Manhattan glittering below like a promise. She'd worn the black dress—not the one from Alessandro's closet that she'd donated to Goodwill along with everything else he'd bought her, but a new one. Red, actually. Jade had insisted.
"You look like you're about to burn down a building," Jade had said approvingly when Sienna had tried it on. "In a hot way. Wear that."
"Sienna!" Miranda waved her over to the bar, already three drinks in if her flushed cheeks were any indication. "There you are! Come meet everyone. We're celebrating you, obviously. My star strategist."
The next hour passed in a blur of introductions and conversations. The design guy—Tyler—did indeed make his move, was sweet and funny and completely unthreatening. They talked about her campaign work, his recent project redesigning the company website, the best pizza in the city. Normal things. Easy things.
"So," Tyler said, leaning against the bar with a smile that was probably very effective on most women, "I know this is maybe forward, but would you want to grab dinner sometime? Actual dinner, not just company party appetizers."
Sienna opened her mouth to answer—probably yes, why not, he seemed nice and Dr. Chen kept saying she needed to practice dating without the weight of expectation—when someone called her name.
"Sienna Morales?"
She turned.
The man standing behind her was tall, maybe six feet, with sandy brown hair and green eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He wore his suit like it was an afterthought—expensive but casual, tie slightly loosened. She recognized him immediately.
Dante Moretti.
"I thought that was you," he said, and his smile was warm, genuine. "From the Hartwell gala, right? We talked about—what was it—the psychological impact of brand storytelling on consumer behavior? You completely changed how I think about marketing narratives."
"I remember." How could she forget? He'd been the first man in three years who'd asked her opinion on something and actually listened to her answer. Who'd treated her like her brain was as interesting as her face. "You were planning that tech innovation center in Brooklyn."
"Still am. Though it's been a nightmare of permits and community board meetings." He glanced at Tyler, seemed to realize he'd interrupted something. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I just saw you and wanted to say hello. And—" He pulled a business card from his pocket. "If you're ever interested in freelance consulting work, I'd love to talk. Your insights that night were exactly what my team needs."
Sienna took the card. Moretti Industries. CEO. She'd heard of them, of course. Everyone had. The tech company that was revolutionizing urban development, making waves in smart city infrastructure, and—
Her brain caught up with her memory.
Alessandro had mentioned Moretti Industries. Multiple times. Always with that edge of contempt in his voice. "Moretti thinks he can disrupt the real estate market with his tech toys. Arrogant bastard. He doesn't understand tradition, legacy, the way things actually work."
This was Alessandro's rival. The man he'd tried to sabotage five years ago, according to some business article she'd read while researching clients. The man who was now standing in front of her, smiling like she was the most interesting person at this party.
"I'd love to," she heard herself say. "Consulting work, I mean. That sounds great."
"Perfect." Dante's smile widened. "I'll have my assistant reach out next week. And hey—" He gestured to the party around them. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. Sorry again for interrupting."
He walked away, was immediately absorbed into a conversation with Miranda and two executives Sienna recognized from the merger talks everyone had been whispering about for weeks.
"Who was that?" Tyler asked, sounding slightly deflated.
"Dante Moretti," Sienna said, still staring at the business card. "He's, uh, a potential client."
"Oh. Cool." Tyler shifted his weight. "So... about that dinner?"
Sienna dragged her attention back to him. Sweet Tyler with his easy smile and uncomplicated interest. The kind of guy she should want. The kind of guy who wouldn't keep her as a secret or make her feel like loving him was a full-time job with no benefits.
"Yes," she said, meaning it. "Dinner sounds great."
They exchanged numbers. Made plans for next Thursday. He went to get them drinks, and Sienna pulled out her phone to text Jade an update.
But before she could type anything, she looked up and found Dante Moretti watching her from across the room.
Their eyes met.
He raised his glass in a small salute, smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
And something in Sienna's chest did a complicated flip that felt dangerously like excitement.
She looked away first, tucked his business card into her purse, and told herself she was imagining the electricity that had sparked between them. Told herself she was just flattered by the professional attention. Told herself this had nothing to do with the fact that he was Alessandro's rival and some petty, vindictive part of her liked that symmetry.
Her phone buzzed.
Not Jade. An unknown number.
"This is Dante. Sorry, I got your number from Miranda—hope that's not too forward. I know I said my assistant would reach out, but I'm impatient when I meet someone brilliant. Coffee Monday morning? I promise it's purely professional. Unless you want it to be unprofessional. That was a joke. I'm better at business than flirting. Clearly."
Sienna's thumb hovered over the keyboard.
This was a bad idea. This was definitely a bad idea. Dating a client was unprofessional. Dating Alessandro's business rival was messy. Dating anyone right now when she was still learning how to be a person who didn't disappear into someone else's life was probably premature.
She should say no.
She typed: "Coffee Monday sounds perfect. Send me the address."
His response came immediately: "You just made my night. Fair warning: I make terrible jokes when I'm nervous and I'm very nervous about impressing you. See you Monday."
Sienna smiled down at her phone.
Across the room, Tyler was returning with their drinks, weaving through the crowd with focused determination.
And somewhere in Manhattan, in a penthouse sixty-seven floors up, Alessandro was probably having his own evening—maybe with Vanessa, maybe alone, probably not thinking about the woman he'd been so certain would come crawling back.
For the first time in six months, Sienna didn't care.
She dropped her phone in her purse, accepted the drink from Tyler, and let herself enjoy the party. Let herself feel the warmth of professional success and the possibility of new beginnings and the strange, terrifying freedom of not belonging to anyone but herself.
Dr. Chen had been right.
She was allowed to feel good.
And tonight, standing on a rooftop in Chelsea with the whole city spread out below her like it was hers for the taking, Sienna Morales felt better than good.
She felt like maybe, just maybe, she was going to be okay.
Better than okay.
She was going to be phenomenal.
Monday morning arrived cold and bright.
Sienna had changed her outfit four times before settling on professional-but-not-trying-too-hard: tailored pants, silk blouse, the blazer that made her feel like she could negotiate billion-dollar deals. This was just coffee. Just a business meeting. Just two professionals discussing a potential consulting contract.
The café Dante had chosen was in SoHo, the kind of place that served single-origin pour-overs and had exposed brick walls covered in local artwork. She arrived five minutes early—Dr. Chen would be proud, she'd been working on her chronic lateness—and found him already there, typing furiously on his laptop.
He looked up when she approached, and his whole face transformed when he smiled.
"Sienna. Hi. Thank you for coming." He stood, closed his laptop, gestured to the seat across from him. "I already ordered—I hope that's okay? I got you an oat milk latte because I remembered from the gala you mentioned being lactose intolerant. But if you want something else—"
"That's perfect," she said, surprised. Alessandro had never remembered her coffee order. Had never remembered much of anything she'd told him, actually. "Thank you."
They settled into their seats, and for a moment there was that awkward pause where neither of them quite knew how to start.
"So," Dante said finally. "I should probably be honest about something."
Sienna's stomach dropped. Here it was. The catch. The reveal that this wasn't what she thought it was, that he had an ulterior motive, that she'd been stupid to think—
"I Googled you," he continued, looking slightly embarrassed. "After the gala. And then again after the party Friday. I know that's probably creepy, but I wanted to make sure you were actually as brilliant as I thought and not just someone who sounded smart at a party because I was three drinks in."
She laughed despite herself. "And?"
"And you're more brilliant. Your campaign portfolio is incredible. The rebrand you did for Hartwell Foundation increased their donor base by forty percent. That's insane." He leaned forward, genuine enthusiasm lighting up his face. "I want that kind of impact for Moretti Industries. We're great at technology, at innovation, but we're terrible at storytelling. At making people understand why they should care about smart infrastructure and sustainable urban development."
This was safe territory. Work. Strategy. Things Sienna knew how to talk about without getting tangled up in feelings.
They talked for an hour about his vision for the company, the projects he had planned, the community resistance he was facing. Sienna found herself sketching out ideas on napkins, her brain firing on all cylinders the way it did when she was truly engaged with a problem.
"You're exactly what I need," Dante said, looking at her napkin full of scribbled concepts. "Can I hire you? Please? Name your rate. I'll pay it."
"I'll have to check with Sterling & Cross about their freelance policy," Sienna said, even as her brain was already calculating what she could charge, what this could mean for her portfolio. "But yes. I'd love to work with you. This project is fascinating."
"Perfect." He grinned. "I'll have contracts drawn up. We can—"
His phone rang. He glanced at it, and something shifted in his expression. "Sorry. I need to take this. Two minutes."
He stepped outside, and Sienna watched him through the window, pacing as he talked. Watched his posture change from relaxed to tense, saw him run a hand through his hair in frustration.
When he came back, his jaw was tight.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"Yeah. Just—" He sat down, tried to smile. "Business rival being a pain. Nothing I can't handle. Where were we?"
"You were about to tell me more about the Brooklyn project."
But Sienna's mind was elsewhere now, wondering who'd called. Wondering if it was—
No. She shut down that train of thought. Alessandro Castellano was her past. This—Dante, the consulting work, the possibility of something new—this was her future.
And her future looked pretty damn good.