Chapter 3 Benedikt
Benedikt
She’s testing my patience.
That’s not new, though.
I expected Sienna to fight me tooth and nail; that’s her nature. She was never going to make this easy.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised by just how fucking difficult she’s being.
Hanging up on me?
Showing her teeth every chance she gets?
She doesn’t realize what could’ve happened to her if someone else had come to collect the debt. What I did—what I’m still doing—is mercy. I’m letting her keep her dignity, her name, and her fucking heartbeat. That should be enough.
But she wants more.
Fine.
Let her want.
I’ve learned a long time ago that wanting and deserving are not the same thing. She may want to feel in control, but she’s not. She may want to feel safe, but that depends on me. And if she wants to keep her father alive? Then she follows my rules.
Even if she doesn’t like how I play.
I park outside her apartment building, still irritated that I had to come here myself. Artem should’ve had her in the car over an hour ago, but she’s like a feral cat.
Skittish.
Sharp.
Pretty, but with claws she doesn’t mind using.
I lean back in the seat, drumming my fingers on the wheel, waiting.
It’s not long before the front door opens and there she is, storming down the steps like she’s ready to swing at the first man who so much as blinks with Artem on her heels.
I don’t know how he got her down her without her kicking and screaming, but he’s not my right-hand man because he’s good with a gun.
My door opens before I can even get out. She yanks it open herself and glares down at me like she’s the one owed an apology.
“Get in,” I say before she starts. “I’m not in the mood, your Highness.”
“Neither am I,” she snaps, but climbs in anyway with a graceless plop. She slams the door, arms crossed, spine stiff, and her eyes out the passenger door window.
I pull away from the curb without another word. The tension between us is choking. Heavy. She smells like frustration and whatever she baked at work today.
Her eyes flick to me every few seconds like she’s gauging whether I’ll explode.
I won’t. Not yet.
But I’m close.
“I want to be clear,” she says, her voice low and venom-laced. “You don’t own me. I didn’t agree to anything. I didn’t sign a single goddamn line.”
“No,” I say, not bothering to look at her. “But you will.”
She scoffs. “You’re confident before I sign anything.”
“I’m realistic.”
Silence again.
But I feel her eyes on me. She’s leaning against the window, arms crossed beneath her chest. She’s still in her work clothes—worn, paint-speckled jeans that cling a little too well to her legs and a white tee that’s wrinkled and riding up just enough to tease a sliver of skin.
Her hair’s a mess, thrown up like she stopped caring halfway through. There’s a smudge of something on her forehead, flour or frosting, and her lips are dry and chapped from the kind of day that grinds people down.
She looks exhausted.
Pissed.
Defensive.
Still fucking beautiful.
I clench my jaw and look away, hating how badly I want her even when she looks like she’d throw a chair at my head if I got too close.
“Where are we going?” She shifts in her seat. “Because I told your pitbull if you think I’m setting foot in that penthouse, you’ve officially lost your mind.”
“I don’t want you in the penthouse,” I say, glancing over. “Not yet.”
That quiets her. She looks confused, which I enjoy more than I should.
“I got you a hotel room.”
She narrows her eyes. “So you can keep tabs on me?”
“So you’re not sleeping on a hardwood floor. Consider it charity.”
“I don’t want your charity.”
“I don’t care.”
Another scoff. “You know what I think?”
“I don’t,” I reply honestly. “But I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.”
She leans in slightly, her eyes flashing. “I think you want to keep me miserable just enough that I’ll agree to whatever you want.”
“Is it working?”
She glares. “Not even close.”
We pull into the private entrance of the hotel I own. I park. She doesn’t move.
“You coming?”
“I should stab you.”
I perk a brow. “Got a knife?”
Her nostrils flare. “No.”
“Then you should thank me.”
Her jaw clenches, but she gets out anyway.
Inside, I escort her through a private elevator and up to a suite on the twenty-third floor. It’s not opulent—she wouldn’t appreciate that right now—but it’s comfortable and clean.
Expensive in a quiet way.
There’s wine chilling in a silver bucket on the bar and soft jazz playing low on the built-in speakers.
She takes one step inside and turns around. “I’m not staying here.”
I sigh. “Why the fuck now?”
“I want to stay in my apartment.”
“I thought we’d been through this.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“Sienna—”
“Why should I be punished for what he did? I didn’t borrow money from you. I didn’t make a promise I couldn’t keep.” Her golden eyes shimmer with unshed tears, pleading for me to take her back and leave her be. “I want my life back, Benedikt. I don’t want to be a prisoner.”
She is.
I can’t even lie about it or try to soothe her in any way because Sienna is paying for her father’s debt. That’s how this world works. I allow her freedom, but I’m back to square one with my father. I figure something else out, she’s already sucked my cock, and I want more.
Addiction is a problem.
I don’t want therapy, nor do I want to get attached. What we have is platonic and a business deal, nothing more.
“I’ll do my best to make your stay with me as accommodating as possible, Sienna. However, when I do need you to play loving wife, I’ll need you to put on your best show. In the meantime, my fiancé won’t be living in a shack with—”
“It’s a one-bedroom apartment, you snob,” she shoots back. “Not exactly the streets.”
Don’t insult what she’s worked hard to get.
I clear my throat. “I apologize. I just want what’s best for you and what would make it look real. If this were, in fact, real, you would have the best of everything. And that’s what you’re going to get.”
“I’m not quitting my job.”
Geezus fucking Christ.
“You haven’t read the contract yet,” I reply flatly. “Once you have—”
“I think you’re here to trap me. To make me think this could be grand and wonderful. You can’t blind me with shiny objects, Benedikt. I’m not that shallow. I won’t be cornered—”
“You already are.” Her eyes narrow into sharp slits. “Calm down, princess. You’ve worked all day. You’re tired. Let me take care of—”
“Out.” She points at the door. “I want you out right now.”
She lets out a frustrated sound, balling her fingers at her sides like she wants to hit something.
Me. I’m getting used to that.
“Sit,” I say, nodding toward the couch.
“I’d rather stand.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
We stare at each other for several long seconds before she finally drops into the seat with a huff, legs crossed tight, and arms folded.
“I had my team leave a folder on the desk,” I say, gesturing toward it. “Contract’s inside. You can go over it tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up for brunch.”
She doesn’t look at the folder. She stares at me.
“You’re serious about this?” she asks quietly. “About the baby thing?”
“Yes.”
She exhales sharply. “You don’t even like me.”
“When did I ever say that?”
With a shake of her head, she averts her gaze toward the other side of the room. “Anything else, or are you done?”
“Ten o’clock work for you?”
“I work.”
“You have the day off tomorrow.”
Her expression turns murderous when she flicks her focus back to me. “Stalking, too, huh?”
“Your friend, Lucy, has a big mouth.”
“And you have a big head.”
“Which one?” She blushes furiously and looks away again. “There’s a hot bath already drawn up for you. I hope you like lavender. I guessed.”
“You expect me to relax while I’m basically your hostage?”
“I expect you to sleep more than four hours tonight.”
Her lips press into a hard line as I cross the room slowly, step by step, until I’m close enough to smell her.
Coffee.
Frustration.
A hint of fear, though she’d never admit it. I reach out, brush a piece of hair from her cheek.
“You’re angry,” I say quietly. “I get it. You’ve had a shit day. You’re stuck in a situation you didn’t ask for.” She stares up at me, her throat bobbing. “But you’re still mine. I don’t want to hurt you, Sienna. I really don’t. So stop making me chase you.”
“You’re not chasing,” she whispers. “You’re hunting.”
I pause.
Maybe she’s right.
Still, I lower my hand and step back.
“The bath’s ready. Take it. Then go to bed.”
“And what? You’ll just watch from the corner?”
“I’m leaving.”
That gets her to perk up. “Really?”
“For now.”
She glares. “Read the room, Volkov.”
“I’m reading it just fine, princess. It won’t be so bad. Especially when I can finally get my turn.”
I allow my gaze to soak in her body, shamelessly imagining her naked and moaning underneath me.
My cock twitches excitedly while my brain reminds me that she’s going to need more from me than looks and things I need from her.
You’re unbelievable.”
“No,” I say, walking to the door, “I’m inevitable.”
She’s still standing there when I leave, the scent of lavender starting to drift through the room. I know she won’t sleep well tonight, she never does. But she’ll think about everything. About the bath. The contract.
Me.
She’ll come around.
Eventually.
And if she doesn’t?
I’ll bring her around.
Either way…she’s not leaving.