GiovanniShe's asleep when I wake in the early morning.It took her a long while to fall asleep but when she did, she slept heavy, not moving once as I held her. Her hair is still a little damp and I smell myself on her. My shampoo, the cologne still lingering on my T-shirt that she's wearing.Even after my shower and while I dress, she remains a still form beneath the covers of the bed.I leave instructions for her by the coffee machine. When she's ready, one of my men will drive her home. If she wants breakfast, she can go downstairs to the restaurant. They'll know to look after her.On the elevator, I type a text to my attorney.Find out what you can about the Williams family, Senator Sean Williams of Maine. I'm interested in the years Sienna Williams was fostered there. She was eleven years old so I'd guess twelve or thirteen years ago. Goes by alias Sienna Chase now. Photo to follow.I send both the text and a photo of her fake driver's license and it seems as soon as I hit send,

SiennaI blink my eyes open and wait for the room to come into focus. It's silent, a quiet I'm not used to, and bright with morning light.And the instant I remember where I am, my heart rate picks up.I roll onto my back, glance at the empty space beside me. I tug the comforter up, appreciating its weight. I wouldn't use one so thick at home. It's too hot in the summer, but it's cool in the penthouse. Giovanni's got better air-conditioning.The pillow still has its indent from where he slept, and I remember the feeling of his arms around me, his body like a solid wall at my back.I sit up to take in the room. The bathroom door is ajar, the light out. He's not here. I know. Not in the bedroom and not in the apartment.I get out of the bed. I'm still wearing his shirt and I catch the hint of aftershave clinging to it.Barefoot, I pad across the hardwood floor and open the door to step into the hallway, putting a hand to my hair to tamp it down. It seems to grow to three times its size

Sienna Once I arrive, I park my car and head inside. I walk up to the reception desk and think maybe I should have called instead of showing up here."Can I help you?" the middle-aged woman behind reception asks.Too late now. "I'm looking for Ciara Williams's room?"She looks down at her computer screen, punches some keys. "You just missed her," she says, looking up at me. "Discharged. She's being moved to a private facility.""Oh. You said I just missed her?""Yes. Her brother signed her out not half an hour ago and the private—""Her brother?" I feel my face drain of color. Feel the weight of cement in the pit of my stomach.The woman's smile fades. "Are you all right, hun?""You said her brother?"She looks at her screen again. Nods. "Sean Williams. I recognize him from TV. Nice guy."No.No, there's nothing nice about that guy.I turn in a circle, look around the lobby half expecting him to be here lurking in a corner."Miss, are you all right?"I force my legs to move. Force my

Sienna"Where are you going?" He breaks away and I can breathe again."What?""Half-packed bag upstairs."Shit. "You had no business going through my house.""I wanted to see where you live. And by the way, you're messy.""Why did you want to see where I live?"He shrugs his shoulder now. "Curious." He looks at my wrist, at the bracelet there.I cover it with my other hand."You didn't answer my question," he says."I was unpacking, actually," I lie.He studies me like he doesn't quite believe me but then he drops it."Do you have whiskey?" he asks, turning to walk into the small living room. I'm pretty sure this entire house fits inside one room of his penthouseI shake my head when he looks at me. "I have vodka.""That'll do."I exhale and walk into the kitchen to get the bottle of Absolut out of the freezer. I take out two water glasses, not wanting to feel embarrassed but feeling it anyway.I don't have a lot of nice things. No crystal tumblers. My furniture is second-hand. Most o

SiennaI watch him from behind the curtains of the window.Is this even real? Did he just offer me a million dollars to sleep with him? To be his for one month?No. This makes no sense. Not after last night.I wonder if this is some sort of personal challenge. Maybe his ego can't take a woman not panting for him in his bed.The sedan disappears and I flip the single lock that still works on the front door. I go upstairs and look at my room, at the half-packed duffel, the clothes strewn here and there.He's right. I am messy. The opposite of him.I pick up the clothes and hang them up or put them away in the dresser drawers, all the while my mind working.Can I do it? Would I?I want to tell myself I wouldn't say yes just for the money. Although that's a lot of money.But there's something about Giovanni Adams. A thing that makes me want to be near him.Which is ridiculous because he is who he is.Everything set aside, though, there is one thing that will take this decision out of my h