A LINE CROSSED, A WAR BEGUN

Sienna spent the entire drive back to her apartment gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her heart was still hammering, her mind replaying every second of the night before, every whispered word, every heated touch.

She should have never let it happen.

She had been walking a tightrope with Damien since the moment she signed that contract, but last night… last night, she had set fire to the entire rope.

And now there was no going back.

Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat, yanking her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen. Claire.

For a second, she considered ignoring it, but she knew her best friend wouldn’t let her off that easily. With a sigh, she pressed the answer button and put the phone on speaker.

“You disappeared last night,” Claire’s voice came through immediately, laced with curiosity. “I swear, one second you were sipping your drink, and the next poof! Gone.”

Sienna swallowed hard. “I… wasn’t feeling well.”

A pause. Then Claire’s voice dropped to something dangerously close to suspicion. “You weren’t feeling well? Or you were feeling something else?”

Sienna cursed under her breath. “Claire…”

“Oh my God.” Claire gasped. “It was him, wasn’t it? Damien Sinclair. Sienna. Tell me you didn’t.”

Sienna pressed her lips together, gripping the wheel harder.

Silence stretched over the line before Claire let out a low whistle. “Wow. You totally did.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sienna muttered, pulling into her apartment complex.

“Well, too bad, because we are talking about it,” Claire shot back. “You’re telling me you slept with the billionaire devil himself, and you just what? Walked away like it was nothing?”

Sienna parked the car and shut off the engine, exhaling slowly. “That’s exactly what I did.”

Claire scoffed. “And you think that’s the end of it?”

Sienna leaned back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of her car. No. It wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

She just didn’t know what that meant yet.

Damien sat in his office, staring at his phone.

The screen remained dark. No messages. No calls. Nothing.

It had been hours since Sienna had left his penthouse, and every second of her absence gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He should have expected this. She was running. Again.

But what she didn’t seem to understand was that he wasn’t the kind of man you could run from.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned back in his chair and picked up his phone, dialing a number he rarely used.

The line rang twice before a voice answered.

“Mr. Sinclair.”

Damien’s voice was calm, but his words were edged with steel. “I need everything on Sienna Carter.”

A pause. Then, “Understood.”

He ended the call and set the phone down.

Sienna thought she could shut him out, pretend last night never happened.

She was wrong.

Sienna barely made it through the day without losing her mind.

She had buried herself in work, ignoring every stray thought of Damien that tried to creep in. But it was useless. His voice was still in her head, his touch still on her skin.

And the worst part? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to forget.

By the time she arrived home, exhaustion weighed down on her. She kicked off her heels, loosened her blouse, and was halfway through unbuttoning it when a knock at the door made her freeze.

Her pulse spiked.

Slowly, she walked toward the door, hesitating before opening it.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Damien.

He stood there, dark and commanding, his eyes locked onto hers like he could see straight through her.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the door. “What are you doing here?”

His voice was smooth, controlled. “We need to talk.”

Sienna exhaled sharply. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Damien’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.”

Before she could shut the door in his face, Damien moved. One step forward, one hand braced against the doorframe, and suddenly, he was too close, his presence swallowing the space between them.

Her heartbeat skyrocketed.

“You’re running from something you can’t escape,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low. “You and I both know it.”

Sienna forced herself to hold his gaze. “You’re not my problem, Damien.”

His expression darkened, something almost possessive flashing in his eyes. “Then why do I feel like I’m the only thing on your mind?”

She hated that he was right.

Hated that he could see the cracks she was trying to hide.

Damien reached out, his fingers brushing over her jaw, a touch so gentle it sent a shiver down her spine. “Tell me to leave, Sienna. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Because she couldn’t.

Damien’s gaze dropped to her mouth, his expression unreadable. Then, just as quickly, he stepped back, his presence suddenly cold, distant.

“Consider this your last chance,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Because after this, I won’t be so patient.”

And then he turned and walked away, leaving Sienna standing there, her heart pounding.

A storm was coming.

And she had just lost control of the winds.