The penthouse bar was designed to make you feel like you didn't belong there. Which, in my
case, was accurate.
I stood in the bathroom stall, dress hiked up around my waist, and seriously considered just
staying in here until the party ended. Rebecca had dragged me to enough of these things that I
should be used to it by now. But I wasn't. Every single time, I felt like a fraud wearing borrowed
clothes and borrowed confidence.
The dress wasn't even mine. It was Rebecca's—some designer thing that probably cost more
than my monthly rent. Which, considering I lived in a studio apartment in Queens that I could
barely afford, wasn't saying much. But still. I looked down at the burgundy silk and felt like I was
wearing a costume.
I was supposed to be networking tonight. That's what Rebecca had said this morning when
she'd shown up at my apartment with the dress and the invitation.
"You need to get out more,
Sienna. You're twenty-nine years old and you act like you're fifty. You need to remember you're
human.
"
The problem was, I wasn't sure I was human anymore. I was pretty sure I'd turned into some
kind of robot that only knew how to work and worry. That was my entire life now. Work and
worry. Work and worry. Nothing else.
My phone buzzed against the sink counter.
Marcus: *Where the hell are you? Harrington's backing out of the deal.
*
I felt my stomach drop. Of course Harrington was backing out. Everyone was backing out. Our
company was hemorrhaging money. We'd made bad decisions. My bad decisions, mostly. And
now everything was falling apart and I was at a party instead of being in the office trying to fix it.
I typed back: *I'll handle it. Give me an hour.
*
I wouldn't handle it. I both knew this and was pretending I didn't know it. This was becoming my
default state—lying to everyone, including myself.
I took a breath, fixed my lipstick in the mirror—dark red, the kind that made me look dangerous,
or at least like I was pretending to be dangerous—and pushed back into the party.
The bar was exactly what I expected. Full of people who had money and power and absolutely
no doubt about their right to both of those things. Men in suits that probably cost more than my
car. Women with the kind of effortless confidence that came from never having to worry about anything.
I grabbed a martini I didn't want and tried to blend into the background.
I failed immediately.
His hand was on my elbow before I could even figure out where to stand.
I turned, and honestly, I forgot how to breathe.
He was tall. Properly tall. The kind of tall that came with the kind of presence that made the
entire room feel smaller. His hair was dark, the kind of dark that looked expensive even when it
was messy. And his eyes—
God, his eyes were like looking into winter. Like actual winter. Cold and gray and completely
unimpressed with anything.
But the weird part was the way he was looking at me. Like I was the only real thing in a room full
of fake things. Like I actually mattered.
"You disappeared,
" he said.
I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
"Sorry, I think you have me confused with someone—
"
"You said you'd dance with me.
" His voice was low. Smooth. Like he was used to people doing
exactly what he asked.
"I've been waiting.
"
This man thought he knew me. This man thought I'd promised him something. And I had no
memory of any of this.
I could have corrected him. I should have corrected him. A normal person would have said
something like,
"I think you have me confused with someone else,
" and then walked away.
But I was tired of being normal. I was tired of being careful and professional and responsible. I
was tired of being the woman who always made the right choice.
So instead, I smiled. And I said something stupid.
"I didn't say *when* I'd dance with you.
"
I watched something shift in his expression. Like he'd just realized that I was as much of a game
as he was. "So you're going to be difficult,
" he said.
"Extraordinarily,
" I answered.
And then he was pulling me toward the dance floor, and I was letting him, and somewhere in the
back of my mind—the part that still had functioning brain cells—I understood that this was a
terrible idea. This was possibly the worst idea I'd ever had. And I was going to do it anyway.
The music was heavy. Sensual. The kind of music that made you feel things you weren't
supposed to feel. He moved with this weird kind of control. Like his body just did what he
wanted, without hesitation, without doubt.
When his other hand found the small of my back, I realized I was in trouble. Real trouble.
"You're different tonight,
" he said. His mouth was close to my ear. Close enough that I could feel
his breath.
I could have played it cool. I could have said something clever or deflecting. Instead, the truth
just came out.
"Maybe you didn't know me as well as you thought.
"
He pressed me closer. I could feel how solid he was. How much physical power was just sitting
there in his body. And I was terrified and excited in equal measure.
"What's your name?" I asked. My voice sounded smaller than I expected.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were darker now. Not gray anymore.
Something closer to black.
"You know my name,
" he said.
I didn't. I had absolutely no idea who this man was. My heart was pounding so hard I thought he
might be able to feel it.
But I wasn't going to admit that. I wasn't going to break the spell.
"Remind me,
" I whispered.
He kissed me like he was trying to prove something. Like he was trying to take something from
me. His hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back, and I could taste expensive whiskey and
something else. Something that felt like danger.When he finally stopped, I couldn't catch my breath. My hands were gripping his suit jacket like
it was the only solid thing in a world that had just completely shifted.
"We're leaving,
" he said.
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Like he'd already decided this and was just informing
me of what was about to happen.
Every logical part of my brain was screaming. Marcus was somewhere in this building, probably
having a meltdown about Harrington. My company was falling apart. I had maybe three hours of
sleep yesterday and zero good decisions left in me.
"I can't—
" I started.
But even as I was saying it, I was looking around for my purse. I was thinking about whether I'd
need my jacket. I was already committing to this insanity.
"Yes, you can,
" he said, and he was already pulling me toward the exit.
I saw Marcus across the room, phone pressed to his ear, looking absolutely frantic. For a
second, our eyes met. And I looked away. I just... looked away. Because if I made eye contact,
I'd have to acknowledge that I was about to leave. That I was about to abandon him and the
company and every responsible choice I'd ever made.
I followed this stranger toward the elevator.
The ride up felt like forever. My heart was pounding. My skin felt too tight. I had no idea what
was about to happen and I wanted it so badly I could barely breathe.
When the elevator doors opened, I stepped inside his life without having any idea how much it
was going to cost me.
---
I didn't sleep that night.
Well, that's not true. I fell asleep at some point, tangled up in his sheets, my body completely
exhausted in a way it hadn't been in years. But it wasn't restful. It was the kind of sleep where
you're aware of every second of it. Where you keep waking up and thinking,
*This is real. This is
actually happening.
*
I woke up around 5 AM, when it was still dark outside, and just... lay there. Looking at the
ceiling. Trying to figure out what the hell I'd done.
He was next to me. Still asleep. Still looking like he'd never had a doubt about anything in his
entire life.
I should have felt guilty. I should have been panicking about Marcus, about Harrington, about
the company. Instead, I just felt numb. And tired. And something else that I didn't want to
examine too closely.
My phone was on the nightstand. I could see it even in the dark. I knew there were probably
twenty messages from Marcus by now. Maybe more. Maybe the company had completely
imploded while I was asleep.
I didn't check.
Instead, I just lay there and tried not to think about what I'd done. How I'd lied to a man I didn't
know. How I'd let him think I was someone I wasn't. How I'd spent the entire night letting him
touch me and kiss me and be inside me, all while I was hiding who I actually was.
It was the worst thing I'd ever done. And I wasn't even sorry.
---
When he woke up, the sun was starting to come through the windows. He didn't seem surprised
to find me there. He just looked at me like he'd been expecting to wake up to a stranger in his
bed.
"Morning,
" I said. My voice sounded small.
"Morning.
" He sat up, and I tried not to stare at his chest. Tried not to remember what it felt like
to touch him.
"I have a 9 AM meeting. You should stay. Or go home and pack a bag, come back.
Either way.
"
I felt something in my chest clench. This wasn't supposed to be complicated. This was
supposed to be a one-night thing. A moment of recklessness. Something I could forget about
tomorrow.
"Guess I should be heading out,
" I said.
He looked at me like I'd said something in another language.
"No, you shouldn't,
" he said.
"Where do you work?"
The question was simple. But it felt like a trap.
"I'm between jobs,
" I said.
It was a lie. It was technically a lie. I was working. I was the CEO of a publishing company that
was actively failing, but I was still working.
He kept looking at me, and I could see the exact moment when he decided he didn't believe me.
Or maybe he believed me but didn't care.
"What's your name?" he asked.
And I realized, with crystal clarity, that I was about to have to make a choice. I could lie
completely. I could give him a fake name and just disappear after today. Or I could tell him the
truth about my name, at least, even if I was lying about everything else.
"Sienna,
" I said. It was the only true thing I'd told him.
"My name is Sienna.
"
He said my name like it was something dangerous. Like it was a curse word.
Then he kissed me again, and I stopped thinking about the choice I'd made.
It wasn't until later—much later, after we'd had sex again, after he'd disappeared to his office to
deal with something work-related, after I was alone in his apartment drinking expensive coffee
from his expensive kitchen—that my phone rang.
It was Marcus.
"Where the fuck are you?" he said. Not even a hello. Just pure panic and anger.
"Sienna, what
is happening? Where have you been? The company—everything is falling apart. Robert's acting
weird. And Dominic Ashford—do you know who he is? His firm is making moves. I think he's
acquiring us. I think we're done.
"
I felt my entire body go cold.
Dominic Ashford.
The man I'd just spent the night with was named Dominic Ashford.
The man I'd been lying to, the man whose bed I'd just gotten out of, the man who'd touched me
like he owned me, was the same man who was supposedly destroying my company.
"Sienna? Are you there? Say something. Anything.
"
But I couldn't say anything. Because I was too busy realizing that I'd made the worst mistake of
my life.
And that it was only just beginning.