Chapter 6 Smells Like Something's Burning

(Sienna's POV)

I locked the bedroom door and carried the box into the bathroom.

I took the albums out one at a time. The first picture was from prom: Damian in a white tux, bending down to kiss my forehead. After that came our first trip to the beach, him holding flowers outside my college dorm, him down on one knee at our wedding, sliding the ring onto my finger.

I stared at the wedding photo for a long time. On the back, in Damian's handwriting, it said, "Forever starts today."

I touched the lighter's flame to one corner of the photo. I watched the flame reach his face, then mine. One album, two, five, until there was nothing left. I turned on the faucet to put out the last sparks, dumped the ashes into the toilet, and flushed. It took three flushes before they were all gone.

I thought I would cry. I didn't.

I opened the window to air out the room and lit a scented candle.

At dinner, Martha brought out two completely different meals.

"Mrs. Foster, I made you a meal to help you conceive. Salmon, avocado, spinach, and a cup of red raspberry leaf tea. My daughter drank this every day when she was trying."

Then she set a big platter of oysters and a steak cooked medium in front of Damian, with a knowing little smile. "And this one's for you, Mr. Foster."

Damian glanced at the oysters, and his expression turned a little awkward. "Martha, I don't think I need those."

"Aren't you and Mrs. Foster trying for a baby? Oysters are very good for men."

Damian looked at me, and his gaze turned heated. "Sienna and I are doing just fine. We don't need any help."

I lowered my head and sipped my tea without a word.

Damian suddenly looked up and sniffed. "What's that smell upstairs? Smells like something's burning."

My hand stilled on the cup. "I lit a scented candle. I probably left it burning too long."

"Be careful next time. Don't fall asleep with it lit." Damian let it go and turned to Martha. "Take the rest of the night off. Don't worry about the dishes. Go on home."

Martha caught on right away and beamed. "Thank you, Mr. Foster. I'm on my way."

The moment the door shut, Damian picked up the oysters and ate every last one. The whole time he ate, his eyes never left me.

I set my cup down and got up to leave, but Damian was already pressed against my back. "Done eating?"

"Mm-hm."

"Then let's take a shower." He swept me up into his arms. "Together."

My whole body went tense. My mind raced. Say I'm sick? He'll call a doctor. Shove him off? The power of attorney isn't signed yet. I can't let him get suspicious.

"Damian, wait..."

"Can't wait." Damian carried me toward the stairs, kissing my neck. "It's been too long."

I pressed my hands against his chest. Before I could say a word, his phone rang.

He stopped, glanced at the screen, hesitated for two seconds, and set me down.

"Who is it?"

"Work." Damian answered and stepped away toward the stairs, keeping his voice low. "What's wrong?"

On the other end, a woman was sobbing in short, broken gasps. I could hear it from several steps away.

Damian's expression changed instantly. "Don't cry. Stay home and lock the door. Don't open it for anyone. I'm coming right now."

He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and gave my forehead a quick kiss. "Something urgent came up at work. I have to go. Go to bed. Don't wait up."

"This late? What's so urgent?"

"There's a problem with a project. I need to handle it myself."

He was out the door without even tying his shoes. A few seconds later, I heard the Range Rover start up in the garage.

I stood on the stairs and listened to the car fade into the distance.

I let out a breath. Relief came first, then pain like 1,000 tiny needles.

Ten minutes later, my phone lit up. It was Lana.

As a VIP client, I had her number. Lana sent me three photos: a new diamond bracelet, a pair of earrings, and a pendant necklace.

"Mrs. Foster! The new collection came in today, and I set these aside for you first thing!" she'd written.

"You didn't come in today. I thought you didn't want me as your sales associate anymore."

"But my manager says I'm number one in sales this month, so she let me leave early! My boyfriend just said he's coming to pick me up, and he says he has a surprise for me tonight."

I stared at the screen.

Ten minutes ago, the woman on the phone had been crying so hard she could barely breathe. Ten minutes later, she was happily telling me her boyfriend was on his way to pick her up with a surprise.

My finger hovered over the screen. Did Lana actually know that her "rich lady," the one she waited on every day, was her boyfriend's wife? If she didn't, then why text me now, tonight of all nights, to tell me her boyfriend was coming to pick her up?

I thought of Damian rushing out the door, his shoelaces still untied.

I started typing.

"They're beautiful. I'd love to come try them on right now. I'll have Diane set up a private appointment," I wrote.

"I'd like to take the bracelet, the earrings, and the necklace home tonight. But I only want you helping me. Can you get there now?"

I hit send and set the phone face down on the table.

Those three new pieces together were worth at least three months of Lana's commission. I wanted to see what she'd choose: Damian or the money. Either way, I was going to wreck their date tonight myself.