Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After the disaster at dinner, Eleanor insisted that Sienna stay the night.

"It's so late, dear," she said, wringing her hands. "And after all that unpleasantness with Landon. I'd feel terrible sending you home alone."

Noah agreed immediately. "Of course you should stay. You can sleep in my room. We're engaged anyway."

His arm slid around her waist, possessive. Claiming.

Sienna wanted to say no. Wanted to go home to her own bed where she could fall apart in private. But causing more tension after the dinner fight seemed cruel.

"That's very kind," she said instead.

Noah's bedroom was on the third floor. Huge and masculine with dark wood furniture and navy blue everything. It smelled like his expensive cologne and something else. Something that was purely him but felt foreign to her.

"There are extra things in the bathroom if you need them," Noah said, already loosening his tie. "And I have some shirts you can sleep in."

She nodded and disappeared into his bathroom. Changed into one of his white dress shirts that hung loose on her frame. When she came out, he was already in bed, patting the space beside him.

"Come here," he said softly.

She slipped under the covers next to him. He pulled her close immediately, his arm wrapping around her waist. His breath was warm against her neck.

"I'm sorry about tonight," he said. "About Landon. He shouldn't have said those things."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. He was way out of line. But that's just how he is. Destructive. He can't stand to see other people happy."

Happy. The word felt hollow.

"Try to get some sleep," Noah murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Tomorrow will be better."

Within minutes, his breathing evened out. He was asleep, his arm still around her like a chain.

But Sienna couldn't sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, she heard voices. Landon's words from dinner. "Buying a wife, not loving one." Noah's voice getting sharp and angry. Richard calling his own son wasted potential.

The fight had been about her. But it wasn't really about her at all.

She lay there for what felt like hours, trapped under Noah's arm. His body was warm against her back but it felt wrong. Foreign. Like wearing clothes that belonged to someone else.

She needed air.

Carefully, she lifted his arm and slipped out of bed. He stirred, mumbling something that sounded like her name.

"Love you," he whispered, still asleep.

The words made her stomach twist. She grabbed the silk robe from the chair and tied it loosely around her waist.

The house was dark and quiet. Her bare feet made no sound on the marble floors as she crept downstairs. Every step felt dangerous. If Noah woke up and found her gone...

She had planned to go to the kitchen. Maybe find some tea. Something to calm her nerves.

But then she saw the light from the pool area.

Through the glass doors, she could see him.

Landon.

He was sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. A bottle of whiskey sat beside him, amber liquid catching the underwater lights. His white shirt was half open, the sleeves rolled up to show his tattooed arms. He stared at the water like it held answers to questions he was afraid to ask.

She should turn around. Should go back to her room and pretend she hadn't seen him.

But her feet carried her forward anyway.

The pool area was warm despite the October night. Steam rose from the heated water. The air smelled like chlorine and expensive whiskey and something else. Something that was purely him.

"You're still awake?" she asked softly.

Landon didn't look at her. Didn't even move. "What do you want, princess? Come to make sure I didn't drown myself?"

The cruelty in his voice was sharp. Like he wanted to cut her before she could get too close.

"I couldn't sleep," she said.

"And you thought I'd be good company? That's your first mistake."

She moved closer despite the warning in his tone. "You don't have to keep treating me like I'm the enemy."

That made him laugh. Cold and empty. "You're marrying my brother. That makes you the enemy by default."

The words hit her like slaps. But she didn't back down. "I never asked for any of this."

"No? Then why are you wearing his ring? Why are you planning his wedding? Why are you playing the part of the perfect little fiancée?"

"Because it's what I'm supposed to do."

"Supposed to." He finally looked at her then. His eyes were dark and angry and a little unfocused from the whiskey. "Tell me, do you practice that fake smile in the mirror? Or does it just come naturally?"

That broke something inside her. "At least I don't drown myself in liquor and random women just to feel alive."

His jaw tightened. The muscle jumped under his skin. He stood up slowly, water dripping from his feet onto the stone.

"Careful," he said, stepping closer. "That almost sounded like you care."

But he was close now. Too close. She could smell the whiskey on his breath. Could see the way his chest rose and fell under the open shirt. Could feel the heat coming off his skin.

"Maybe I do care," she whispered before she could stop herself.

Something flashed in his eyes. Want. Pain. Anger. All mixed together into something dangerous.

The air between them crackled. Electric. Like the moment before lightning strikes.

He moved closer. Another step. Then another. Until she could feel his breath on her face. Until the space between them disappeared.

For a second, she thought he might kiss her. For a second, she wanted him to.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her breath caught. Heat flooded her body until she felt dizzy.

This was what she had been missing. This fire. This need. This feeling of being completely alive.

He leaned in. His lips were inches from hers. She could taste the whiskey on his breath. Could feel the warmth of his skin.

His hand twitched at his side. Like he wanted to touch her face. Like he was fighting himself.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The moment stretched between them, dangerous and electric.

Then he whispered, "Relax, sweetheart. I don't touch what already belongs to my brother."

The words sliced through her like glass.

Her eyes snapped open. He was smirking at her. Cruel satisfaction in his dark eyes. Like he had won some sick game.

"What?" she breathed.

"You heard me. You're his property now. His perfect little trophy wife. And I don't play with other people's toys."

The humiliation was instant. Complete. She felt like she was drowning in shame.

"You're disgusting," she said.

"Maybe. But at least I'm honest about what I am. Can you say the same?"

Tears stung her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

"Run along now," he said, turning back to his whiskey bottle. "Don't want Noah wondering why his perfect little fiancée is out here begging for attention."

Begging for attention. Like she was a dog looking for scraps.

The cruelty of it took her breath away.

She spun around and ran. Her robe flying behind her as she rushed back toward the house. Her bare feet slapped against the stone. Her chest burned with shame and anger and something that felt too much like heartbreak.

Behind her, she heard the splash of him getting back in the pool. Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just destroyed her all over again.

She made it back inside before the tears started. Made it up to the third floor before her legs gave out.

She sat on the marble steps outside Noah's bedroom and let herself fall apart. Just for a minute. Just long enough to remember how to breathe.

God, she hated herself. Hated herself more than she hated him. For still wanting the man who kept destroying her. For sneaking out of her fiancé's bed to chase after someone who treated her like garbage.

What was wrong with her?

A creak from inside the bedroom made her freeze. Was Noah awake? Had he noticed she was gone?

She wiped the tears from her face and crept back into the bedroom. Slipped under the covers as quietly as possible. Noah stirred when she moved, his arm automatically reaching for her.

"There you are," he mumbled, half asleep. "Where'd you go?"

"Just getting some water," she whispered.

"Mmm. I love you."

He pulled her close again. His arm wrapped around her waist. His body warm against her back.

But her lips were still tingling. Like Landon had almost touched them. Like she could still feel the ghost of what might have been.

She lay there in the dark, trapped under Noah's arm, and whispered to herself, "Why does he hate me so much?"

But deep down, she knew the answer.

He hated her because she made him feel things he didn't want to feel. Because she represented everything he had walked away from. Because looking at her reminded him of what he could never have.

He hated her because he wanted her.

And wanting her was going to destroy them both.

Sienna wasn’t sure she minded.