Chapter 6: Blackmail & Boundaries

The office air felt thicker than usual.

The windows let in sharp beams of morning sunlight, but none of it touched Damon Caldwell’s mood. After Sienna walked out of his office—calm, firm, and painfully honest—he’d stood frozen in place for almost ten minutes. Not because of shock, but because of frustration.

He had hoped, truly hoped, that she would say yes. That somewhere under her righteous anger and stiff posture, she’d feel sorry for him. She hadn’t. And now, with his family expecting to meet her in less than forty-eight hours, Damon was out of time—and out of grace.

So when she returned from delivering a file to legal, he was waiting for her at her desk.

“We need to talk,” he said coldly.

Sienna didn’t even look up. “We already did.”

“No. That was me giving you the option. This is different.”

She looked at him now, catching the subtle shift in his tone—sharper, clipped, more dangerous.

“I said no.”

“And I said this isn’t optional anymore.”

Her lips parted slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re going to agree to this, Sienna,” he said quietly, “or you’ll no longer have a job here by the end of the day.”

Her face paled. “You’re threatening me.”

“No,” he said, calm as ice. “I’m making it clear what the cost of refusal will be. Caldwell International is a family-run company. If the board finds out I lied to protect my inheritance, I lose everything. I don’t have room for defiance or complications. I asked you nicely. You declined. So now I’m being direct.”

Her heart pounded in her ears.

“Do you even hear yourself?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“I do,” he said, folding his arms. “And I don’t care how it sounds anymore. You’re not irreplaceable, Sienna. But you are useful.”

That stung more than she expected. Not because it wasn’t true—but because it came from him. From the man she had worked so hard to stay professional around. The man she had, on some very rare days, even admired.

She stared at him in silence for a long moment. Then she exhaled and nodded once.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll play along.”

Damon said nothing, but the tension in his shoulders visibly eased.

“But let’s be clear,” she added. “This doesn’t make us friends. And the second this act is over, I want things back exactly the way they were.”

“Agreed.”

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick manila envelope.

“This contains everything you need to know—family history, my hobbies, my allergies, things my mother might ask you, phrases I use, my favorite wine, even what I wore to my high school prom.”

Sienna took it wordlessly.

“And this,” he added, handing her a sleek black credit card, “is for the dress. You’ll need something elegant. Expensive. My mother notices details.”

She took the card, holding it like it was radioactive. “And when’s this performance supposed to happen?”

“Tomorrow night. Dinner at my parents’ estate. You’ll be introduced as my girlfriend. They’re expecting you.”

“Of course they are,” she murmured, her voice flat.

Damon didn’t apologize. Didn’t flinch.

He simply said, “I’m leaving early today. I’ll be at the house.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Sienna at her desk with a credit card she never asked for and a file that read like a script to a life she never agreed to perform.

The Caldwell estate was already buzzing when Damon arrived. The kitchen staff moved like ants on a mission. Florists had come and gone, leaving behind crisp white lilies in vases shaped like swans. The dining room table gleamed under the light of a freshly polished chandelier.

Margaret Caldwell was in heaven.

“I had Pierre bring the Bordeaux from the cellar,” she said as soon as Damon walked in. “And I’m having Marcel do a honey-glazed duck. You know how rare it is to find someone who appreciates a proper glaze these days?”

“Wonderful,” Damon muttered, loosening his tie.

Vincent, seated in the reading room with a leather-bound book in his lap, looked over the rim of his glasses.

“Is she coming?”

“Yes,” Damon replied without hesitation. “Tomorrow evening.”

Margaret clapped her hands. “Finally! I’ve already moved dinner to the veranda. The weather should be perfect. Oh! And should I hide the family photo wall? She might feel overwhelmed.”

“She’ll be fine,” Damon said. “She’s used to pressure.”

Vincent raised a brow. “You’re very composed today.”

“Because there’s nothing left to question,” Damon replied. “She’s real. She’s coming. End of story.”

His father studied him a moment longer—searching for the tell, the crack in the mask.

But Damon held the gaze.

Eventually, Vincent nodded and returned to his book.

Meanwhile, Sienna stood in front of a wall of designer gowns, feeling like a stranger in another woman’s life.

She had come to one of the luxury boutiques Damon had marked in the back of the document. The sales staff treated her like royalty the moment they saw the black card. Doors opened. Sparkling water appeared. Racks were wheeled out as if summoned by magic.

She tried on four dresses before settling on one.

A deep emerald green silk gown, floor-length, with a plunging neckline and open back—elegant without being flashy, bold without being desperate. It was unlike anything she’d ever worn. She looked like someone else in the mirror.

Someone who belonged.

And yet… she didn’t.

Not really.

By the time she got home, Jordan was sitting at the kitchen table with his textbooks scattered across the surface. His head popped up as soon as she walked in.

“Whoa,” he said, eyeing the garment bag. “You rob a movie star?”

She managed a tired smile. “Not quite.”

“Is that for a date?”

“Actually… yes.”

He blinked. “Wait. What?”

Sienna dropped the bag on the couch and sank into the nearest chair. “I need to tell you something. And you’re not allowed to freak out.”

Jordan sat straighter. “Okay…”

“I’m pretending to date my boss.”

Jordan’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“It’s complicated,” she said quickly. “He lied to his parents. Said he was dating someone—me—because they were pressuring him to marry. And now they want to meet me.”

“You said no, right?”

“I tried.”

“Tried?”

She sighed. “He gave me a choice. Do it… or lose my job.”

Jordan frowned. “He blackmailed you?”

“Technically, yes.”

“Then don’t do it! Quit!”

“And pay your school fees with what? Monopoly money?”

Jordan fell silent.

“I know it’s wrong,” Sienna said softly. “And I hate every second of it. But right now… this is what survival looks like.”

He looked down at his hands.

“I didn’t know things were that bad.”

“They’re not. Not yet. But they could be.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Jordan looked up. “At least tell me he’s not hideous.”

Sienna snorted. “He’s not hideous. He’s infuriating. But no—definitely not hideous.”

Jordan grinned. “So this is like a soap opera now?”

“Unfortunately,” she muttered. “And I’m the reluctant lead.”

She stood, lifting the bag. “I’ve got homework. It involves memorizing a man’s life.”

“Do I get to meet him?”

Sienna smiled, tired. “Maybe. After I survive tomorrow.”