Dante showed up at her apartment three days after the breakup.
Sienna heard the knock at ten PM and knew, somehow, before she even looked through the peephole, that it was him. Something about the rhythm of it. Insistent but not frantic. Controlled but demanding. The same way Dante approached everything in his life — with calculated precision that left no room for chaos.
She opened the door against her better judgment.
He looked different. Not dramatically so — he was still wearing expensive clothes, still had that polished appearance he maintained with obsessive care. Hair perfect. Jaw clean-shaven. The kind of man who looked like he'd never had a hair out of place in his entire life. But his eyes were different. Harder. The warmth that had always been there when he looked at her — the genuine affection she'd convinced herself could grow into love if she just tried hard enough — was gone. Replaced by something cold and calculating that made her skin prickle.
