Siena woke up to warmth, and not just from the early sunlight filtering through the curtains. It was the weight of an arm draped around her waist, the steady rhythm of someone else's breathing beside her, and the faint scent of Alexander's cologne still clinging to the sheets.
For a moment, she stayed still.
Not out of confusion, but clarity.
This wasn't a dream. Last night wasn't a slip of judgment or a side effect of wine and candlelight. It happened. They happened.
She rolled over slowly, her gaze settling on the man beside her.
Alexander Knight.
Billionaire. CEO. Business shark. And now… something else entirely.
His face was peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the intense, guarded expressions he usually wore. His brow was smooth, lips slightly parted, his dark lashes casting faint shadows on his cheekbones. In sleep, he looked younger—like a man unburdened by corporate empires and legacy obligations.
She watched him for longer than she meant to. And when his eyes opened, catching her in the act, she didn't even flinch.
"Morning," he said, voice deep and groggy.
"Morning," she replied, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
"You stare a lot."
"You sleep like someone who never lets his guard down."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe I don't. Until now."
---
Breakfast was unusually quiet, not because anything was wrong, but because there was nothing left to hide behind.
They sat on the balcony of the suite, Siena in one of his oversized shirts, Alexander in black slacks and a plain tee, sharing coffee and croissants from room service.
"I have a board meeting at ten," he said casually.
"Should I stay out of sight?"
He looked at her over the rim of his coffee mug. "No. If you're here, you're here."
Siena nodded, heartwarming at how natural that sounded.
He wasn't trying to keep her hidden.
And she wasn't trying to run anymore.
---
After Alexander left, Siena took a slow shower and spent the rest of the morning reading through documents from a design client she hadn't had time for in weeks. She wasn't sure what to call her status now—not a kept woman, and not exactly a wife in the traditional sense either.
But whatever it was, it felt real.
It felt mutual.
And for once, she didn't feel like she was holding her breath.
---
Around noon, she received a text from an unknown number.
"We need to talk. Meet me at L'Ombra. 2 p.m."
– Mila
Siena froze.
Mila Black.
Alexander's ex-fiancée.
The one woman who, no matter how confident Siena was starting to feel, still lingered like a shadow in the corner of every conversation and whispered doubt.
She considered ignoring the message.
But curiosity was a wicked thing.
And so, at 2 p.m., she showed up.
---
L'Ombra was a quiet, upscale restaurant tucked into one of the older parts of the city. When Siena arrived, Mila was already seated at a corner table, sipping something pale and sparkling from a crystal glass.
She looked effortlessly perfect—sleek black dress, dark red lipstick, her hair pulled into a sophisticated bun.
"Siena," she greeted coolly. "Glad you could make it."
"I almost didn't," Siena admitted, sliding into the seat opposite her. "But I figured if you went through the trouble of getting my number, it must be important."
Mila smiled, slow and sharp. "Straight to the point. I like that."
"What do you want?"
"I want you to understand something before you get too comfortable in that penthouse," Mila said, swirling her drink. "Alexander doesn't let people in. Not really."
Siena kept her face calm. "And you would know?"
"We were together for two years. Engaged for eight months. I know him better than you think."
"If you knew him so well, why aren't you the one wearing the ring now?"
Mila's smile faltered just a little. "Because I got tired of waiting for him to choose me over everything else."
"And now you think I should walk away before I make the same mistake?"
Mila leaned forward. "I'm saying he's built walls so high, you'll exhaust yourself trying to climb them. Don't confuse affection with commitment, Siena. Alexander's very good at giving just enough to keep you hoping."
Siena's hands curled slightly in her lap.
She didn't come here for a warning disguised as kindness. She came for the truth.
And she already knew the truth.
She'd seen it last night.
"I appreciate your concern," Siena said calmly. "But we're not the same people. And I'm not in this for breadcrumbs."
Mila raised an eyebrow. "So, you think you're different?"
"I know I am."
There was a silence between them, tension thick in the air.
Then Mila sighed, her posture softening just slightly.
"Maybe you are," she murmured. "But just in case—you should know the Knights don't just protect their name. They protect their secrets too."
"What secrets?"
Mila didn't answer.
She just finished her drink, stood up, and said, "Ask him about London. And what happened three years ago."
Then she walked away.
---
Siena sat there long after Mila left, the unease settling in her stomach like a stone.
London. Three years ago.
What did that even mean?
She could ignore it. Dismiss it as bitterness. But something about the way Mila had said it…
No. She had to ask.
---
When Alexander came back later that evening, Siena didn't greet him with a kiss or a joke. She stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed.
"I met with Mila."
His smile faded. "Why?"
"She texted me. I figured I'd hear her out."
He set his briefcase down slowly. "And?"
"She said something about London. Three years ago. She told me to ask you."
There was a pause. One that dragged longer than necessary.
"I don't want to talk about London," he said finally.
"That's not an answer."
"Siena—"
"You told me we were being real. No more pretending. But if there's something I should know—"
"There's nothing," he interrupted, too quickly.
And just like that, the warmth between them started to cool.
---
That night, they slept in the same bed, but with silence hanging between them.
She didn't ask again.
And he didn't offer anything.
But the wall she thought had come down?
It was still there.
Just cleverly hidden behind soft kisses and slow mornings.