Chapter Seven

Dominic’s Pov

The front door clicked shut behind me, and I expected the usual quiet. My penthouse was supposed to be a fortress of silence, a clean and empty space where no one could ever bother me. But tonight, the air smelled like burning garlic and something sweet.

I frowned, dropping my briefcase on the marble counter. Twenty-four hours. Sienna had only been living here for one single day, and already my whole routine was completely ruined.

I walked down the wide hall toward the kitchen. The bright lights were on. Standing by the stove was Sienna, trying to cook her own dinner because she stubbornly refused to let my private chef make her meals. But that wasn't even the shocking part. She had somehow spilled red sauce all over her shirt, so she had taken it off and put on one of my old black dress shirts.

The shirt swallowed her whole. It hung off her soft shoulders, the hem falling halfway down her thighs, leaving her legs completely bare.

I froze right there in the doorway. My chest tightened, and my breath caught in my throat. She looked cozy, messy, and entirely out of place in my sharp, modern kitchen. And for some crazy reason, my eyes refused to look away.

Sienna turned around to check a pan, and she caught me staring. She didn't look away or blush. Instead, a slow, teasing smile spread across her face. She looked down at my giant shirt, then back up at my eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"Like what you see, Mr. Kane?" she asked, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Or are you just mad that I'm ruining your expensive clothes?"

I quickly forced my face back into a cold, hard mask. I crossed my arms, trying to look as bored as possible.

"I was wondering why the smoke detector hasn't gone off yet," I snapped back, walking over to pour myself a glass of water. "And take that shirt off before you ruin it, too."

"Oh, hush," she laughed, turning back to stir her food. "Your chef made chicken last night that tasted like cardboard. A human being needs flavor, Dominic. You should try it sometime."

I watched her for a moment as she moved around the kitchen. It bothered me how easily she fit into a space that I had designed to keep people out. I looked around the massive room—all steel, glass, and expensive white marble. There was not a single picture frame, not a single old book, nothing with any soul.

"Why is this place so empty?" Sienna asked suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. She leaned against the counter, looking up at me with those sharp, curious eyes. "You have a million-dollar view and twenty rooms, but there is nothing here that actually belongs to a real person. No memories. No junk. Nothing."

My jaw tightened. I didn't like talking about this. I set my glass down hard on the counter.

"Things don't matter," I said coldly. "People leave, and things break or get taken away. It's safer not to care about junk."

"Let me guess," Sienna said softly, tilting her head. "Your father taught you that?"

I glared at her. "Leave my family out of this."

"He walked out on you, didn't he?" she asked, not backing down even an inch. Her voice wasn't filled with pity—which somehow felt much worse. "Or he lost everything because he trusted the wrong people. So you built this giant glass cage and decided to control every single thing in your life so nobody could ever hurt you again."

"You don't know anything about me," I growled, taking a step toward her.

"I know enough," Sienna said, looking right back into my eyes without any fear. "Being hurt a long time ago doesn't give you the right to treat everyone around you like garbage, Dominic. Hiding behind money doesn't make you strong. It just makes you a coward."

Her words hit me like a physical punch. Nobody—not my business partners, not my board members, not even Marcus—had ever dared to talk to me like that. My chest burned with anger, but underneath the anger, something else flared up. A dangerous, wild attraction. I wanted to shake her, and I wanted to pull her close at the exact same time.

I turned away before I did something stupid, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Just finish your food," I muttered, my voice tight. "And by the way, Marcus told me today that the guest wing is flooded because of a broken pipe. The contractor can't fix it until tomorrow afternoon."

Sienna stopped stirring her pan. She slowly turned around, staring at me. "Wait. What does that mean for me?"

"It means," I said, looking back at her with a heavy sigh, "the only finished bedroom in this entire place is the master suite. You're sleeping in my bed tonight. I'll take the couch."

Her eyes went wide, but she didn't argue. She just nodded slowly, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

Hours later, the penthouse was completely dark and silent. I lay flat on my back on the living room sofa. The cushions were too short for my legs, the blanket was too thin, and my mind wouldn't stop racing. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept picturing Sienna walking around my kitchen in my oversized shirt.

Cursing under my breath, I got up off the couch around three in the morning. I needed water. My throat felt dry. I walked quietly down the dark hallway, pushing open the heavy door to my bedroom just enough to grab the glass of water I had left on the nightstand.

The room was pitch black. I didn't want to wake her up, so I didn't turn on the lamp. I just slid quietly under the blankets on the far left side of the giant king-sized bed, thinking it was the couch for a half-second before my brain finally caught up. Wait—this is my bed.

I was too tired to care. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep, heavy sleep for the first time in days.

When I woke up a few hours later, the morning sun was just starting to peek through the giant glass windows. I felt warm. Lighter than usual.

I opened my eyes slowly.

Sienna was lying right beside me. She had rolled over during the night, and one of her soft arms was draped right across my chest. Her face was only inches from mine. Her lips were parted slightly as she breathed out softly, her dark hair spread out over the white pillows like a silk cloud. Without all her walls up, without her angry glares, she looked peaceful. Younger. Beautiful.

I didn't move. I just lay there, watching her chest rise and fall, completely mesmerized.

Suddenly, her eyelashes fluttered. Her eyes snapped open.

She blinked once. Twice. Then she looked up and realized she was staring right into my eyes, her hand resting flat against my bare chest under the blanket.

We both froze. The whole world stopped spinning.

Before either of them can move away, Dominic asks in a low voice, “Were you watching me sleep, Sienna?”