Chapter 3 Sienna
Sienna
The box in my hands feels heavier than it should.
Not from the contents—I’m only taking the last of my things—but because every step closer to the front door of Benedikt’s house makes my chest tighten.
I tell myself I’m ready. I’m organized. I’m just reclaiming the things I left behind, putting the past in its box, and carrying it out for good.
The house doesn’t really feel empty. There’s a lingering warmth in the air, a faint trace of him on the couch cushions, and his scent still clinging to the hallway banister.
I shake my head. It’s ridiculous. He’s gone.
Exiled.
Out of the country.
Out of my life.
I set the box on the kitchen counter for one last look around just to torture myself. I remember talking to Lucy on the phone in this very room while he fucked me without asking.
I was trying to concentrate, and he was busy trying to own me.
I hated everything about it.
And I loved how much he couldn’t resist.
He used me, made me come, and then shamefully made me want more.
I turn to grab my box to leave and continue to work on forgetting everything that’s happened in the past several weeks, but then, I freeze.
Standing in the doorway, framed by the kitchen lighting, is the man I sent away.
The man I rejected, denied, and betrayed.
His hair is longer than I remember, a little unkempt, and the suit jacket over his shoulders gives him the effortless menace he’s always had. His dark eyes lock on mine, and the familiar ache—the mix of fear and desire—grabs my stomach.
He came back.
Just like I knew he would.
“Hello, princess,” he says, voice low and measured.
My cheeks warm, and my hands tighten on the box as he invades the kitchen.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” I manage, even though my pulse is doing somersaults and my throat’s closing. “You were—”
“Gone?” His mouth twitches like he’s amused by the lie. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
He takes another step forward—slow, like he’s testing how much space he can steal before I push back.
I don’t.
“Relax,” he says. “I didn’t come to hurt you.”
“You don’t have to say it out loud for it to feel like you might,” I say, my breath catching as he closes the distance.
“Still dramatic,” he mumbles. “Still beautiful when you’re lying.”
He moves until he’s close enough to smell him—expensive cologne, faint smoke, and something dark clawing his way back from the past.
His hand brushes the edge of the box, sliding it out of my grip until it lands on the counter with a dull thud.
“How… are you here?”
My voice is barely audible as Benedikt lifts his hand, and his fingers graze the side of my throat.
It’s barely a touch, but my body reacts as if it’s a command.
“Miss me?”
I hate him for knowing me this well. I hate that my body still reacts to him.
“Say what you came to say, then leave me alone,” I whisper.
“That’s the problem, princess.” His thumb traces my jaw. “You keep pretending you get to decide.”
He leans in, close enough that his breath hits my neck, that I can feel his heat through my clothes. I should shove him, scream, anything.
All I can do is stand here, hating how much I’ve missed this moment—the stillness before the storm.
“You think you can walk away from me?” he asks quietly. “After everything?”
I can feel my throat closing when I mumble. “I already did. You can’t force me, Benedikt.”
“We had a deal. You marry me. I don’t kill your father. You give me an heir in five years’ time. I give you everything you want.”
And just like that, the air shifts. It’s the same pull as before—rage tangled with want, and fear knotted up with everything I never said out loud. My heart is hammering, and I know I’m trapped again.
Because we had a deal.
And I broke it.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” I manage, trying to sound firmer than I feel.
“Exiled doesn’t mean invisible, princess.” I feel his chest push firmer into my spine. “Tell me… who approached whom? Did Nikolai promise you pretty things, and that’s why you betrayed me?”
I don’t respond. The answer won’t make things better.
His brother approached me with options. I didn’t agree right away. It wasn’t what Benedikt and I agreed upon, but I thought that maybe I could get my life back to normal.
“You can’t even deny it.”
The edge in his voice snaps something. In one hard movement, he spins me around. The box clatters to the floor, and I’m staring up at him, my butt pressed against the counter.
His hands are on either side of me, jaw tight, blue eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them.
“You gave them everything I built,” he says, his voice shaking with fury. “Everything I bled for. And you did it with my ring still on your finger.”
“You don’t get to talk about bleeding,” I shoot back. “You had me trapped. I—”
“You what? Saved yourself?” He leans closer until I can’t look anywhere else. “You think they’ll ever let you walk away clean? They used you, Sienna. And you used me.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” he cuts in. “You just didn’t think I’d come back.”
His control fractures right there. His hand slides up, gripping the back of my neck, and pulls me forward.
Then he slams his mouth into mine.
The kiss isn’t gentle; it’s punishment, a reminder, a claim. I push against his chest, but he doesn’t move, and for a second, the world narrows to the sound of our breathing and the heat between us.
He suddenly breaks the kiss, but doesn’t lose the distance between us. “You even still taste like mine.”
I hate him.
I hate this.
And I hate that I still feel tethered to this man.
“We had a deal,” he spits out. “You think words stop meaning something because you change your mind?” I shake my head even though I don’t like what I had to do. “And now I decide what that means.”
Neither of us speaks for a beat. He drags his thumb across my bottom lip, and my pulse skips. The air between us is charged again, with rage and want tangled together.
“I have to teach you a lesson, princess,” he mutters. “And you’re not going to like it.”
I slowly shake my head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
Fear tenses my muscles when I say, “Don’t kill my dad.”
He glowers at me. “You think I’d waste my fucking time killing your dad?” His hands are suddenly underneath my dress, and he lifts the fabric over my hips. “No, princess, I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to marry me tonight.”
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, setting me on the counter. The movement forces a gasp out of me as his hands stay firm on my hips, holding me in place.
His forehead presses against mine, his breathing harsh and uneven. “No one takes what’s mine. Not my father, not my brother, not even you.”
“You’re angry. You’re not thinking straight.”
He lets out a small, bitter laugh. “I’ve never thought clearer in my life.”
The silence between us is thick, charged. He looks at me for a long moment, and something shifts in his eyes. There’s less rage now and more something else. Something dangerous.
“Say it,” he murmurs. “Say you’re mine and you’re sorry.” When I don’t, his hand slides up, gripping my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Say it, Sienna.”
My heart is pounding so hard that it hurts.
“You don’t own me,” I whisper.
His mouth curves upward. “You keep telling yourself that.”
Then his lips crash into mine, and everything goes quiet.
It’s not a kiss—it’s a warning.
A reminder.
His hands tighten, his control is absolute, and I realize too late that he’s not just angry.
He’s broken.
And somewhere in that ruin, he’s still choosing me.
His tongue slips past my lips, and he devours me and doesn’t let up.
His fingers pry my panties to the side one minute, and his cock is entering me the next.
I gasp against his lips as he bottoms out inside me.
He’s fierce and still angry. He fucks me to prove I belong to him, and that nothing will change that.
Every thrust is a demand, every breath a threat disguised as a kiss. He grips my hip hard enough to bruise, anchoring me in place, forcing me to take him exactly how he wants.
The sound of our bodies fills the silence that he’s too controlled to break.
I try to move, to push against him, but his hand slides up, fingers circling my throat—not tightly, just enough to remind me who’s in control.
His forehead drops against mine, and his breath comes hot and uneven.
“You think running fixes this?” he growls.
I shake my head, even though I did.
His pace slows, not growing softer, just hitting deeper. He’s looking at me now, searching for something I can’t give him.
Remorse.
Surrender.
Maybe both.
But the story remains the same. He forced me into an agreement, and my free will demands to break free.
But at what cost?
My pride?
My stubbornness?
Or my future that’s riddled with an organized crime organization that will swallow me whole?
His hand slides up my throat again, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “You think I wanted it like this?” His voice is dangerous. “You think I enjoy chasing what’s already mine?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The words are trapped somewhere between fury and fear.
He thrusts once, hard enough that the breath catches in my lungs. “You should’ve stayed where I left you, Sienna.”
My nails dig into his shoulders. “You would’ve found another reason to come after me. You just won’t leave me alone. And I hate you for it.”
He smirks, but there’s nothing warm in it. “You’re right. But at least I could’ve trusted you.”
The words land harder than his body. I see it then, the flicker of something that isn’t just rage. It’s disappointment. Betrayal, maybe.
“I don’t want to lock you up.” His voice drops to a growl. “But you make it damn hard to give you a choice.”
His control is slipping, and I feel it in the way he moves. It’s measured, but desperate to prove something neither of us can name. Every breath between us feels like a dare.
I know how this ends.
He doesn’t let go.
And I don’t back down.
But when I look up at him, something cracks in my chest. Because I think he means it.
He doesn’t want to cage me.
He just doesn’t trust me not to run.
It shouldn’t matter. He’s the villain in every version of this story. The man who pulled the strings, who made me a deal I never wanted.
But right now, he looks more like a man trying to convince himself he’s doing the right thing.
“Tell me I can trust you,” he murmurs roughly against my ear.
I stay quiet, my silence its own confession.
His jaw tightens. “That’s what I thought.”
He pulls out just enough to make me gasp before slamming back in, anger rolling off him like heat. Even as my body responds, my mind spins, trying to decide what’s more dangerous.
His wrath.
Or his need to believe I’m still his.
He keeps moving at a relentless, punishing pace. Every thrust feels like a statement, every breath between us a war neither of us will win. His name leaves my lips in broken pieces, not from pleasure or pain, but because I can’t stop myself.
He curses under his breath, pressing his forehead to mine like he’s trying to hold himself together.
“You drive me insane,” he mutters. “You make me fucking lose it.”
“Then let me go,” I breathe.
He stills, just for a heartbeat. Then his fingers slide down my thigh, gripping tighter. “Not a chance.”
When he moves again, it’s slower, deeper, controlled chaos at its finest. The kind that unravels me from the inside out. I can feel him burning the distance away, to make sure I remember who he is and what he owns.
And maybe I do.
Because when I finally break apart beneath him, it’s his name I choke on, his control I cling to.
He follows right after, his release hitting with a guttural sound that shakes something loose in both of us. For a moment, everything goes still, just his breath against my neck, my heart pounding too loud to ignore.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t move far. His hand stays at my throat, not in a threat, but in a reminder.
His voice is rough when he speaks. “You don’t have to like me, Sienna. But you will listen.”
I swallow hard, the words catching somewhere between defiance and surrender. “And if I don’t?”
He looks at me then—really looks at me—and I almost wish he hadn’t. Whatever’s left in his eyes isn’t anger. It’s something heavier. Darker.
“Then I’ll make sure you don’t have a choice.”
He leaves me there with that promise, pulling away like it costs him something.
Maybe it does.
When he leaves the kitchen and me behind him, I realize I’m shaking for reasons that have nothing to do with fear.