Chapter 7 Sienna
Sienna
I don’t realize how tight my grip is on the steering wheel until I pull into the senior home parking lot and see the white marks on my fingers.
For the first time in days, my lungs expand.
No Benedikt.
No arguments.
No debts hanging over my head.
I grab a paper bag from the passenger seat—my grandmother’s favorite muffins from our bakery—and head inside.
The walls are lined with fading artwork and bulletin boards covered in Bingo schedules and potluck signup sheets.
Normal.
Safe.
Just what I need.
Her room is the last one on the left, and her curtains are open to catch the afternoon light. She’s sitting by the window, knitting something pink and small. Her silver hair is pinned up, and she looks content, peaceful, and the opposite of how I feel.
When she sees me, her eyes brighten. “There’s my girl.”
I force a smile and cross the room. “Brought you muffins.”
“Blueberry?”
“Always.”
She sets down her yarn and reaches for the bag. “You spoil me, Sienna.”
“Someone has to.”
She eyes me a little too long and then asks the dreadful question. “You look tired, Sienna. What’s wrong?”
I laugh softly. “Do I have to be falling apart to visit you, Grandma?”
“No, but you look like you’ve been battling something fierce.”
I slump into the chair beside her. “You’re not wrong.”
She studies me for a long moment before speaking again. “Is it your father?”
I frown. “What makes you think that?”
“It’s a man. There’s this look on your face; you’re distraught. As though your life is either over or highly complicated.”
“Nothing I can’t handle, Grandma.”
“Hmm.” She unwraps a muffin, breaks off a piece, and pops it into her mouth. “You sound like your mother when she used to try to convince me she was fine.”
“I’m not my mom.”
“No,” she agrees. “You’re much worse at lying.”
I huff a quiet laugh, more out of guilt than amusement. “I’m fine. Really.”
“You keep saying that.” She sets aside her muffin. Her eyes are softer now, less probing, and more knowing. “Your shoulders tell a different story. You used to walk into a room like you owned it. Now, you walk in like you’re trying not to be seen.”
I stare at the yarn in her lap, watching her fingers smooth a loose strand. “It’s just been a lot lately. Work. Life. Everything between.”
Her soft hand finds mine. “You’ve always been stubborn, Sienna. Just promise me you won’t carry more than you can bear.”
I nod, though I know I already am.
She studies me a moment longer, then gives my hand a small squeeze. “Whoever he is, I hope he’s worth the ache written all over your face.”
I blink, trying not to react. “You think too much.”
“And you feel too much.” She smiles faintly. “That’s always been your problem.”
I look away, swallowing hard. “Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep.”
“Then stop pretending you’re made of stone,” she says softly. “Let someone see the cracks. You always think you can control chaos, Sienna. You can’t. Sometimes you just have to decide what kind of fire you’re willing to burn in.”
I exhale and lean back in the chair. “That’s not very comforting.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
The clock ticks, and a nurse laughs somewhere down the hall.
For the first time in a long time, I let myself feel like a girl who doesn’t have to fix everything.
Finally, I whisper, “I think I love him.”
Her brows rise. “The man you’ve been denying exists?”
“Yeah.” My stomach drops, and I feel like I’m going to get sick.
“And why does that scare you?”
“Because loving him is dangerous.”
Her expression softens. “Safety isn’t love, Sienna. Don’t confuse the two.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means love is a risk. Love is war.” She gives a small shrug. “But if you’re going to fight, make sure it’s a battle worth bleeding for.”
Before I can say anything, there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Grandma calls out, lacing her hands.
The door opens, and in walks a man in a perfectly tailored black suit, with broad shoulders and a calm composure that I’m lacking.
Him.
Benedikt.
He strides inside like he hadn’t been shot three nights ago. Like he belongs in any room he decides to enter.
“Afternoon, ladies.” His voice is silk. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Ben,” I begin, my voice barely audible. “What are you doing here?”
He smiles faintly. “Visiting your grandmother. I thought it was time we met properly.”
He steps closer, and my body goes rigid. In his hands is a small bouquet of white roses.
White.
Clean.
Deceptive.
The kind of flowers you bring to funerals or for apologies. Knowing him, it could be both.
My grandmother blinks, confused but polite, before asking, “And you are…?”
No.
He wouldn’t.
“Benedikt,” he says smoothly, reaching for her hand. “Sienna’s fiancé.”
I choke on air, and my pulse spikes so fast that I feel dizzy.
Fiancé.
The word crashes into the room like a live wire, sizzling in the air, burning through every ounce of composure I’ve been clinging to.
My grandmother’s hand flies to her chest, and her eyes widen in shock. “Your… what?”
My heart does somersaults. “Grandma…” I start, but my voice cracks.
Ben turns the same faint smile to me, sliding one hand behind my chair, his fingers brushing the back of my neck in a way that looks affectionate but feels like a warning.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. “Did I ruin the surprise?”
The audacity of this man.
I want to scream. Or throw the flowers. Or him.
My grandmother is staring at me like her world just tilted sideways, and I can’t do anything except sit there, frozen, while Benedikt flawlessly plays the role of doting fiancé.
“Forgive me for showing up unannounced.” He switches effortlessly back to charm. “I just couldn’t wait any longer to meet the woman who raised Sienna. She talks about you all the time.”
Liar.
He’s lying so smoothly that even I want to believe him.
My grandmother blinks between us, torn between awe and confusion. “Well, I… I don’t know what to say. I didn’t even know Sienna was seeing anyone.”
“That’s because it happened fast,” he says warmly. “Very fast. We didn’t plan it; it just happened. One of those whirlwind things, you know?”
Whirlwind.
That’s one word for it.
My grandmother finally recovers enough to smile. “Well, my goodness. Congratulations! How long have you two been engaged?”
I open my mouth, but Ben beats me to it.
“Not long,” he says easily, squeezing my shoulder. “But I’ve known for a while that she was the one.”
I’m going to kill him.
Slowly.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Grandma beams. “Do you have a date set?”
Ben chuckles softly and leans in to kiss my temple. “Not yet. Sienna hasn’t picked one. She’s particular.”
Particular.
I almost laugh out loud.
My grandmother claps her hands together, overjoyed. “Well, whenever it is, I expect an invitation. I’ll have to find a dress. Oh, and I want to help with the flowers!”
Flowers.
How about a coffin for the one behind me?
Ben steps around my chair to hand her the bouquet. “Then consider this the first of many.”
She takes them, completely charmed, while I sit there, silently panicking.
He’s good.
Too good.
He’s not just manipulating me; he’s weaving himself around the one person in this world I wanted to remain untouched by him.
My grandmother looks between us again, misty-eyed. “Sienna, why didn’t you tell me?”
My throat tightens. “It… it all happened so fast.” The words taste like acid. “Almost like I was forced into it.”
Ben squeezes my shoulder again, the gesture subtle but firm. “We wanted to wait until things settled. You know, make sure it was real before we made it official.”
Grandma nods approvingly. “That’s very wise. I always knew my girl had good judgment.”
I almost snort.
Ben laughs softly, like he’s flattered. “She’s got a good heart. Keeps me honest.”
The irony nearly makes me choke.
He sits beside me now, too close, his hand still resting against the back of my neck. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to move, but I can’t. Not without drawing attention and upsetting Grandma.
I’m trapped.
Again.
But this time, it’s in a room filled with sunlight, flowers, and my grandmother’s smile.
And that’s somehow worse.
A nurse knocks gently on the doorframe, breaking the tension on my end. “Mrs. Ellis? It’s time for your medication.”
“Oh!” My grandmother stands, smiling apologetically. “Give me a moment, dear. You two talk.”
My stomach sinks. “Grandma, I can come—”
But she’s already following the nurse out, humming to herself.
The door eases shut, and I spin around on my chair, sending my best glare his way. “What the hell was that?”
Ben watches me, calm as ever. “You didn’t tell her about us. I thought I’d help.”
“You lied to her.”
He tilts his head. “Did I?”
“You show up here uninvited, in your perfect suit, pretending we’re engaged?”
“We are engaged.”
“Not like that, and you know it.”
He closes the distance between us when he leans in. His cologne wraps around me before his voice does. “She needed to see stability. I gave her that.”
“You don’t get to decide what my family sees.”
He smiles faintly, but his eyes are dark. “I decide everything that has to do with you, princess.”
I flinch when his hand rises to brush a strand of hair from my face. His touch is soft, but the tension beneath it isn’t.
“I’m not stupid.” He lowers his voice. “You come here to hide, think, and remember what normal feels like. You forget that normal no longer exists for you.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t stand here and act like you own me.”
His eyes flicker with amusement. “I don’t have to act.”
Before I can say another word, he wraps his fingers around my throat and pins me between his fingertips, just enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him. His hand slides to my waist, anchoring me in place.
“You can hate me all you want,” he says above my lips. “But you don’t get to erase me. Not from your life, not from your family, and not from your story.”
I tremble, furious at myself for how much of that hits somewhere deep. “You have no right—”
“I have every right,” he interrupts quietly. “Because whether you admit it or not, you’re mine.”
My pulse hammers against his fingers, and for a second, I can’t tell if it’s fear or anger that’s making it race.
“Let go,” I whisper.
His thumb traces the edge of my jaw. “You keep asking for things you don’t really want.”
“I mean it, Ben.”
“Then tell me like you mean it, princess.” The pad of his thumb touches my lower lip, and he drags it down. “You’re beautiful when you’re like this, but you’re unbearable when you fight me. I want nothing more than to see how long you can keep it up when I’m deep inside you.”
He finally drops his hand, but the ghost of his touch lingers.
I lean back in my seat, needing the space even though it barely helps. “You can’t keep showing up and deciding what’s best for me.”
“I just did.”
“God, do you even hear yourself?” My voice rises. “You humiliated me in front of my grandmother. She thinks we’re in love.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “What’s so bad about that?”
“It’s a lie.”
“It’s protection.”
I bark out a laugh. “You think pretending we’re engaged protects me?”
“I think keeping her from the truth does,” he says simply. “You want her safe, don’t you? She’s the only person you’ve got left. If Nikolai knew about her, she’d be leverage. I won’t let that happen.”
His words sink in, cold and real. “You don’t even know her. But you invited yourself into her life when you could’ve just watched from afar. You’re just trying to have more control. Over me, over everything.”
His jaw flexes. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“Then what are you doing?” I demand. “From where I’m standing, all you’ve done is corner me, make decisions for me, and drag me into a world I never asked to be in.”
He’s quiet for a long second, then says, “Maybe I’m trying to keep you alive, princess.”
That stops me cold.
He runs a hand over his face, exhaling hard. “Nikolai is not backing off. You think I want him anywhere near you? Or your grandmother?”
I look out toward the hallway, where sunlight spills across the carpet like everything’s still normal.
None of this chaos belongs in her apartment.
“You can’t keep saving people by owning them,” I say finally.
Ben’s voice drops low. “And you can’t keep pretending you don’t need me.”
Something in the way he says it—calm and certain—is chilling.
“Stop it,” I breathe.
“Stop what?”
“Making everything sound reasonable when it’s insane.”
He almost smiles. “You bring out the worst kind of reason in me.”
I shake my head because he’s not going to win me over with allure. It’s all a ruse to get me to stop fighting him. “You can’t fix this by forcing me into a role I don’t want.”
His gaze softens, just a fraction. “But I can give you the life you always dreamed of in return.”
I scoff. “You think this is what I dreamed of? Being trapped under your thumb while you play house?”
He doesn’t even blink. “I think,” he says finally. “You’re tired of scraping by. Tired of being scared.”
I hate that his words hit a nerve.
“I’m not scared,” I snap, but my voice betrays me.
Ben leans closer, and I feel the air shift. The calm before something inevitable.
“You are,” he murmurs. “But I can change that.”
“By owning me?”
“By protecting you.”
“My grandmother doesn’t even know who you are. You showing up here isn’t protection. It’s an intrusion. She doesn’t need to be dragged into your world.”
“Then tell me how to keep her safe, Sienna.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Maybe just… stay away.”
Something flashes behind his eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. He exhales through his nose before nodding once. “Alright.”
My stomach twists. “Alright?”
“If staying away is what it takes for you to stop looking at me like I’m the enemy, then fine. I’ll give you space. But don’t mistake that for distance.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ll still be watching.”
My pulse spikes. “You can’t—”
He cuts me off quietly. “I can. Because if I don’t, Nikolai will.”
The way he says his brother’s name sends a chill down my spine. He takes one last look at me, then heads toward the hallway where my grandmother is still humming to herself in the kitchen.
For a moment, he looks almost human—tired and regretful—then it’s gone.
He moves toward the door, pausing just long enough to say, “Betray me again, princess, and we won’t talk about it. I’ll act upon it.”
The door closes behind him.
I stand there shaking. The sunlight on the carpet hasn’t moved. The roses on the counter gleam white and perfect, as if none of this just happened.
I sink into the chair and press my palms against my face. My heart won’t stop pounding.
He’s watching.
He’s always watching.
And I can’t tell if that terrifies me, or makes me feel safer than I should.