Marlowe Sienna Romane & Geschichten

Tonight, the only thing she wore was want. Sienna knocked once, then pushed the door open without waiting for an answer. She carried a leather folio under one arm, black blouse tucked into slim trousers, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her short waves were mussed from the wind outside. She looked at Lara—really looked—and the folio hit the side table with a soft thud. “You’re late,” Lara said, voice low. “Traffic.” Sienna’s eyes dropped to where the robe gaped, showing the inner curve of one breast, the shadow between Lara’s thighs. “You’re… not dressed.”

My brain was doing that thing it does when I'm overwhelmed. Cataloging details as if they were evidence in a trial I didn't know I was part of. Sienna's shoes: Louboutin Pigalle, size 38, $795. Flynn's tie: Hermès, the one I gave him for our anniversary. Or thought I did. The coq au vin: officially ruined. My marriage: possibly the same. Flynn stood frozen in the doorway, his briefcase still in hand. I was caught between them. My head swinging back and forth like I was watching a tennis match.

She looked bored. "What are you doing here?" Elara hissed, her grip tightening on the hilt. "Did Julian send you to watch me fail in person? Did he want a front-row seat to the 'liquidation'?" Sienna stepped closer, dropping the "socialite" mask. Her eyes weren't bright and bubbly; they were cold, calculating, and rimmed with exhaustion. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a matte-black phone—the exact same model as Elara’s.

"Hey, focus; you're here to promote the merch, not stare at some gal's ass." Then I turned to see a woman dressed in a slim hot pink gown with flaming red hair, and I recognized those cheekbones anywhere. Sierra's eyes met mine as she approached me. I shot Frankie a glare, smacking his chest hard. "Scram." Frankie winced in pain and walked away. She stood close enough for me to catch the scent of roses and cherries, soft and sweet. "Sierra?" I said. "You got the invitation?" "Were you expecting someone else?" She asked.

“Sienna, where are you? Tell me and I’ll come there to pick you up.” “Xander, never call me again. Please, I’m begging you. Just let me be.” “No,” I said. “Sienna, listen to me. The drugs they might have given you in the hospital might have confused you. Please, do not do anything that you’ll regret.” “That I will regret?” she scoffed. “I regret only one thing. And that is marrying you. You’ve only been trying to take me down. It won’t work this time. I’ll make sure of it. And pushing me down the stairs…”

Chapter Fifteen — Threat SOREN’S POV Mia's scream shook the place, and for one frozen second the entire room held its breath. “You think you can steal my boyfriend and play the victim?” She jabbed a finger toward Sienna, the phone still raised like evidence in a trial none of us had asked for. “The whole world’s about to see what kind of homewrecker you really are.”

Marcus confirmed before turning briskly away to manage the estate logistics. Sienna rested her hand on the cold stone balustrade, looking out over the valley. The sunlight caught the silver locket at her throat, making it gleam like a star against her dark wool sweater. "An East Wing conservatory," Sienna murmured, a soft, fond smile gracing her lips. "When we first married, I honestly believed we would spend our entire lives living out of high-security penthouse suites in Manhattan and Zurich, surrounded by security details and emergency comms."

"Not the joint venture, not the credibility it's giving the company, though that matters too. I mean you, specifically. I like the way you fight for the parts of this building that matter, even when it makes my life more complicated. I like that you called me cheap in front of my own engineer and then thanked me two minutes later for saying something true. I don't think I've met many people who do both of those things." Sienna was grateful for the darkness, because she felt her face heat in a way she wasn't prepared to have witnessed. "That's not what I expected you to say." "What did you expect?" "I don't know. Something about the scaffolding budget." He laughed, low and real. "I have layer

"Oh my god! Is that you? Ethan, you didn't tell me you married... your childhood helper?" I felt Ethan's hand tighten around my waist. "Ex-girlfriend," Ethan said coldly. "And ex-friend of my wife. Chloe, you remember Sienna. My wife." Chloe laughed, looking me up and down. "That dress is cute. Is it... rented?" This was where old Sienna would have run to the bathroom crying. But new Sienna — Mrs. Blackwood for a year, with a revenge plan — remembered what Ethan's hand on her waist felt like.

“Let's get married! Right now! We can register our marriage here in New York! “Or we can go back home and have the biggest wedding imaginable! We'll invite everyone we know and announce it to the whole world! “I'll make up for everything I've failed to give you! Every way I've hurt you! I'll make it up to you twice over! “Sienna, look at me! Look at this ring! Your initials are engraved inside. SS. Sienna Sawyer! “It was you! It was always you!” His words tumbled out in a frantic rush. He held up the ring as though it were his last remaining source of faith and hope. At last, Sienna glanced at it. Just once. There was no nostalgia in her eyes. No flicker of emotion. Not even a trace of mocke