Chapter 4

Sienna’s Pov

My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs that I was terrified Ryder could hear it. Standing there in the dim light of the hallway, caught red-handed with tears still drying on my face, I expected him to mock me. I expected him to make some sarcastic comment about the owner’s little sister crying over a phone call.

Instead, Ryder didn't say a word about the tears. He just closed the small distance between us, his dark eyes softening in a way I had never seen before.

"Hey," he said, his voice dropping to a low, gentle murmur that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "Are you okay?"

I let out a shaky, bitter laugh, shaking my head. "Why do you care, Ryder? Weren't you just telling me last night that I have everything handed to me on a silver platter?"

"That was before I realized how heavy the platter actually is," he answered honestly, surprising me completely.

For the first time since I had met him, the arrogant star player mask was entirely gone. He stood there looking just as exhausted, just as trapped by expectations, and just as lonely as I felt. He told me how he spent every single day feeling like he belonged to everyone except himself—to the coaches, the media, the sponsors, and the screaming fans who only loved him when he was winning. Every single goal he scored and every interview he gave just felt like another cage.

As he spoke, something shifted inside my chest. The anger and hostility that had built up between us for years suddenly melted away.

"I get it," I whispered, looking down at the floor before meeting his gaze. "People see my last name and assume I never have to try. They don't see the hours I spend studying game tapes, or the applications I submit under fake names just so someone will read my work without judging who my brother is."

Ryder listened without interrupting once. When I finished, he stepped closer, his warm breath brushing against my face. "Then stop letting other people decide whether you deserve a chance, Sienna. You're the smartest, sharpest analyst I've ever met—trust me, I learned that the hard way. Stop hiding."

"It’s easy for you to say that," I replied softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're the golden boy. The whole world is cheering for you."

"Being recognized for just one thing can become its own kind of prison," he confessed, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

My breath caught. The touch was so soft, so unexpected, that my whole body went completely still. We moved away from the noisy balcony, wandering into a quiet, empty side lounge where the thumping music of the party sounded miles away. For the next hour, there were no cameras, no sponsors, and no angry brothers. There was just Ryder and me.

He made me laugh with funny stories about Carter trying to cook dinner and nearly setting their kitchen on fire. I told him about the time I corrected a hockey camp instructor when I was twelve years old and got myself kicked off the ice.

"You've been bossing hockey men around since you were a kid?" Ryder teased, a lopsided smile spreading across his handsome face.

"Only when they're wrong," I replied, tilting my chin up with a playful smirk. "Which means I'm going to spend a lot of time bossing you around."

"Is that a promise?" he asked, his dark eyes darkening with a sudden, electric intensity.

The playful mood shifted into something thick, heavy, and impossible to ignore. Ryder reached across the small table, his fingers lightly brushing against my cheek, tracing my jawline. Neither of us pulled back. The air between us suddenly felt hot and electric.

My mind screamed at me to stop. Ryder was my brother’s star player. If Julian ever found out we were even standing this close, he would lose his mind. But for my entire life, I had always done what was sensible. I had always followed the rules, stayed in the background, and tried to be the good, quiet sister. Tonight, for once, I didn't want to be sensible.

"Do you think we should stop?" Ryder asked quietly, his thumb tracing my lower lip, his gaze dropping to my mouth as if he were fighting a massive internal battle.

"I spend most of my life doing what other people consider sensible," I whispered, my heart racing in my throat. "Tonight... I just want to make one decision without worrying about what Julian or anyone else thinks."

Ryder studied my face for one long, breathless second, searching my eyes to see if I was sure. When he saw I wasn't backing down, he closed the remaining space between us and kissed me.

It wasn't a tentative kiss. It was an explosion of all the frustration, tension, and hidden attraction we had spent years pretending didn't exist. His hands slid around my waist, pulling me hard against his chest, and I tangled my fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

Everything around us faded away. The party, the pressure, the family names—none of it mattered. There was only the heat of his lips against mine and the dizzying realization that I had never wanted anything more than this.

He pulled back for just a fraction of a second, his chest heaving as he rested his forehead against mine. "Sienna... are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure of anything," I breathed.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, sweeping me off my feet. By the time we left the celebration together, we had silently agreed on one strict rule: no promises, no expectations, and no regrets. It was just one wild, reckless night. I told myself it wouldn't change my life, and Ryder convinced himself he could walk away by morning.

We slipped into his private hotel suite, the door clicking shut behind us with a heavy thud. The night blurred into a rush of whispered words, tangled sheets, and a breathless intensity that terrified and thrilled me all at once. For hours, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

When the first pale light of dawn crept through the large glass windows, the room was quiet. I woke up first, lying in the warmth of the bed with Ryder’s arm still wrapped securely around my waist. Panic hit me instantly like a bucket of cold water.

Reality rushed back in. Julian. The team. The scandal if anyone ever found out.

Moving as quietly as a ghost, I slipped out from under his arm, gathered my clothes from the floor, and dressed in record time. I couldn't stay here. Staying meant facing him in the daylight, meant pretending this was something more than a crazy mistake, and meant risking everything I had worked for. I scribbled a quick, empty note on the bedside table—Don't look for me—and slipped out the door.

As the private elevator doors began to slide shut behind me, I thought I had made a clean escape.

Suddenly, a strong hand shot out, blocking the doors from closing. They jerked open with a soft chime, and Ryder stepped into the elevator box. He was wearing loose sweatpants, his dark hair messy from sleep, looking effortlessly gorgeous and completely awake.

Before I could even take a step back, he grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers tightly through mine. His eyes searched my face, holding me in place.

"If we wake up tomorrow wishing the night had never happened," Ryder asked quietly, his voice deep and serious, "will you be able to look me in the eye and pretend we are still enemies?"

I opened my mouth, a dozen denials rushing to the tip of my tongue. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell him it meant nothing.

Before I could find the words, the elevator reached the main lobby floor, and a loud, bright chime rang out, interrupting the heavy silence between us.