● Sienna ●
I didn't know if I should keep moving forward or turn back and lock myself in my room, not with the way his eyes were tracking me like I was something he had already claimed. It made my steps falter, my body suddenly too aware of itself. How the hell did he even know my father well enough to be invited into this house?
I kept going anyway, forcing myself to walk straight past him as if he didn't exist, as if his presence wasn't crawling under my skin. I barely made it two steps past him before his hand closed around my wrist and yanked me back. The world tilted. My back hit the wall, his body caging me in, close enough that I could smell that damned cologne again—the same one that had haunted my room last night.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" the words snapped out of me. This was a hallway. Anyone could walk in. My parents. The staff. Anyone.
His face was inches from mine, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Did I not tell you not to tie your hair up?"
The audacity of it sent a spark of anger through me, even as my pulse raced. "I don't remember agreeing to take orders from you."
The space between us shrank even further when his knee slid forward, settling between my legs. A gasp betrayed me before I could stop it, my hands pushing uselessly at his chest. The contact was wrong—so wrong—and yet my body reacted in ways that terrified me.
His hand reached up, fingers tangling in my hair. The band was loosened, pulled free, and my hair spilled down over my shoulders in soft waves. A shiver ran through me when his fingers trailed through it, when he gave a brief, deliberate tug, like he was testing how far he could go.
Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back."Maybe try to listen to my words next time."
I sucked in air, my lungs burning as if I had forgotten how to breathe. He had that wicked grin on his face that promised trouble, and I looked away at it.
I stayed leaning against the wall as he walked away, my eyes following him even though I shouldn't. He was dressed in black—shirt and pants, the top buttons undone like he didn't care about appearances. He looked unreal. Too good.
I tried to find something wrong with him as he walked off, but there was nothing.
My gaze dropped to the watch on his wrist when his hand shifted. A Rolex. An expensive one. Definitely not something just anyone owned. So he was rich. That part made sense. My father wouldn't invite a nobody to lunch.
When he was finally gone, I pushed myself off the wall and followed, my legs still a little unsteady. By the time I reached the table, he was already seated with my parents, looking perfectly at ease. I slid into the chair beside my mom and focused on my plate like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
"So, Nicholas," my father began, cutting into his food, "what line of business are you in exactly?"
A faint pause.
"Investments. A bit of consulting on the side. With my father out of business, I've been juggling more responsibility than I expected."
Everlyne smiled. "That definitely is a lot to handle at your age."
"It is," he agreed smoothly, "but with so much money involved, you can't just trust anyone with your assets."
My father nodded, clearly impressed. "And social life? Or does work consume everything?"
A corner of Nicholas's mouth lifted. "I make time when it matters. Connections are important—business and otherwise."
Everlyne chuckled softly. "That sounds very diplomatic."
He let out a low laugh. "I've been told."
I didn't look up. I kept my attention fixed on my food, pushing it around more than actually eating. Yet I could feel it—that steady, unapologetic gaze on me. It burned into my skin, and what unnerved me more was the fact that he wasn't even trying to hide it.
"There's no ring on your finger," my mother observed lightly, her gaze settling on Nicholas's hand.
My dad looked up too, interest flickering across his face. "Everlyne has a sharp eye. I assumed you were already settled."
Nicholas glanced down at his hand as if the absence meant nothing, then looked back up with an easy calm. "Not married yet."
"But you must be seeing someone?" my mother pressed, clearly curious.
"Yes," he replied smoothly.
"You should have invited her to join us. How long have you two been together?" My mother just didn't know when to let go.
A pause followed, just long enough to feel deliberate. "Not for too long," Nicholas said. "But if things go the way I expect them to, she'll soon be my Mrs."
My fork stilled against the plate.
"That's wonderful," my mother said warmly.
Before she could go further with her probing, I decided to divert the conversation. "Are you some sort of CEO… a spy, maybe?" I dragged the words slightly, keeping my gaze locked on his dark eyes, daring him to react.
Nicholas let a small, amused smile tug at his lips. "I'm many things, depending on who's asking," he said smoothly, his tone calm and teasing, refusing to give anything away.
Dad cleared his throat sharply, his eyes narrowing at me.
"Sienna," he reprimanded, "that's enough."
I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, while Nicholas's eyes lingered on me.
"What about you, Ms. Blake?" he tossed the question my way.
I speared a piece of steak and brought it to my mouth, taking my time chewing, refusing to be rushed by his gaze. Only when I swallowed did I look up at him.
"I work at the department of human resources in Dad's company."
His eyes stayed on me longer than necessary, dark and unreadable, like he was weighing something in his head. It made my skin prickle. Then, without a word, he finally looked away and turned back to his plate.
The rest of lunch passed in a strange, heavy silence. Cutlery clinked softly against plates, small movements filling the space where conversation should have been. When we were done, chairs scraped back, and I watched as Nicholas rose before following my father toward the study.