Sienna knew letting Alessandro into her apartment at 2 AM was a mistake even as she unlocked the door.
"Come in," she said. "But if you throw up on my carpet, you're paying for the cleaning."
Alessandro stumbled in, looking nothing like the polished billionaire she remembered. Rumpled suit, no tie, hair a mess. He smelled like expensive scotch and desperation.
"I'm not that drunk," he muttered, collapsing onto her couch.
"You showed up at my door at two in the morning quoting movie lines. You're drunk enough." Sienna handed him water. "Drink this. Then you have one hour to say whatever you came here to say."
"One hour."
"One hour."
"Can you sit? I need to look at you while I say this."
Against her better judgment, Sienna sat on the other end of the couch, pulling a blanket around herself like armor.
"Talk," she said.
Alessandro pressed his palms against his eyes. "I don't know where to start."
"The beginning usually works."
