Chapter 11

Sienna's POV

I awoke earlier than usual the next morning, my head still pounding after having to face the paparazzi I had been away from for so long again. Plus, I hadn’t even slept properly the night before. I had a room to myself, but I jolted awake every now and then, just entirely uncomfortable.

Now it was morning, I decided to take a look around the house.

The house was massive—far too big for one person, let alone two people who could barely stand to be in the same room together. I had spent the better part of the morning wandering aimlessly, trying to familiarize myself with the place.

There were endless halls, grand rooms, and ornate furniture that probably cost more than my former apartment. Every now and then, I’d find a door that led to another room full of paintings or some kind of antique collection.

Who even lived like this?

By the time I reached the library—a sprawling space with shelves that reached the ceiling—I was already exhausted. I sat down in one of the oversized leather chairs and looked around, wondering if I’d ever feel at home here.

***

The preparations for the wedding had turned the house into a revolving door of visitors. Event planners, florists, caterers—all of them bustling in and out with ideas and updates.

I tried to keep a low profile, avoiding the curious glances and whispers that followed me everywhere. The staff was polite, but I could feel their judgment in the way they hesitated when addressing me.

“Sienna.”

I jumped at the sound of Max’s voice and turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever. It was on one of such afternoons when he was actually around.

“Yes?” I said, trying to sound composed.

“They need you in the dining room to discuss the seating arrangements,” he said flatly.

“Seating arrangements?” I repeated, frowning. “Why do I need to be involved in that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the bride, and people expect you to have opinions.”

I stared at him, unsure if he was serious or just trying to irritate me. “Fine,” I muttered, brushing past him.

The dining room was chaos. There were charts, papers, and swatches of fabric everywhere. A team of planners stood around the table, debating where to place the dessert station.

“Miss Brooks, we need your approval on this,” one of them said, holding up a seating chart.

I squinted at the paper, trying to make sense of the tiny names written in cursive. “Uh... sure, this looks fine.”

“Excellent,” the planner said, quickly jotting something down.

As the discussion continued, I caught sight of Max standing in the corner, scrolling through his phone. He didn’t look up once, even when someone asked for his input.

I walked over to him, crossing my arms. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be involved in this wedding, you don’t seem very interested.”

He glanced at me, his expression bored. “That’s because I trust the professionals to handle it.”

“Oh, so you trust them, but I have to approve every little detail?”

He smirked faintly. “That’s because you need the practice. Pretending to care is an important skill in this game.”

I glared at him, but he just turned back to his phone.

***

Days passed, and the monotony of being stuck in the house started to wear on me. The excitement of exploring had faded, replaced by a gnawing sense of isolation.

Even with the constant stream of visitors, I felt alone. Everyone here was working for Max, not me. No one cared what I thought or how I felt. Well, unless Max referred them to me.

It was sickening.

One evening, I found myself sitting in the living room, staring at the grand piano in the corner. I didn’t know how to play, but it seemed like a better option than staring at the walls.

Just as I reached out to press a key, Max walked in, his suit jacket draped over his arm.

“Don’t touch that,” he said without looking at me.

I froze, my hand hovering over the keys. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not yours,” he said simply.

I pulled my hand back, crossing my arms. “Do you ever get tired of being so unpleasant?”

He glanced at me, a faint smirk on his lips. “Do you ever get tired of asking stupid questions?”

I rolled my eyes and flopped back onto the couch. “This is unbearable,” I muttered.

“What is?”

“Being cooped up here,” I said, gesturing around the room. “I’m going insane, Mr. Max. I can’t just sit here all day doing nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So read a book. Watch TV. Find a hobby.”

“I don’t need a hobby,” I snapped. “I need to go outside. I need fresh air and sunlight and... people who don’t look at me like I’m some kind of sideshow.”

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright! Off you go!”

“Excuse me?”

He scoffed. “Don’t be foolish. You can’t go out, Sienna. It’s too risky.”

“Risky for who?” I shot back. “You or me?”

“For both of us,” he said, his tone cold. “Do you think the reporters will leave you alone if you step outside? Do you want to give your family more ammunition to use against you?”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. He wasn’t wrong, and that only made me angrier.

“This isn’t fair,” I said quietly.

“Life isn’t fair,” he replied, his voice devoid of sympathy. “You wanted this deal, Sienna. Now you have to live with it.”

I looked at him, searching for any trace of humanity in his expression. There was none.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I said bitterly. “Watching me feel trapped.”

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Maybe a little. But don’t get the wrong idea, darling. This isn’t personal. It’s just business.”

I stared at him, a lump forming in my throat. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he said, turning to leave. “Goodnight, Sienna.”

I watched him disappear down the hall, my frustration boiling over.

I was trapped, but not just in this house. I was trapped with him.