5. Sienna #2
The duvet feels impossibly soft under my fingers as I tug it back, and when I set Adam down on the mattress, I can see how plush it is.
He snuggles into the mound of pillows with a soft hum, instantly falling asleep again as he tucks the elephant close to his chest. I pull the blankets back up over him, tucking him in, and I’m painfully aware of both Damian and Mrs. Horvat watching us.
I wish I could just be alone with him, even crawl into bed and curl up here, with my son close to me and an assurance that we’ll both be safe, but Damian’s made it clear that’s not possible.
“The bathroom is through there.” Mrs. Horvat points to the door at the far end. “I’ll lock it, so the little one can’t wander in and get into things he shouldn’t if he wakes up. Your room is just next door. I’ll show you.”
She gestures for me to follow her, and I do, reluctantly. I don’t want to leave Adam in this strange house, but I also feel guilty, knowing that the housekeeper was woken up in the middle of the night to help us get settled. The sooner I’m in my room, the sooner she can go back to bed.
We head back out into the hall, and Mrs. Horvat takes us to the next door down.
It’s just as beautifully overwhelming as Adam’s room was, like a five-star hotel room, but in someone’s house.
The room is huge, big enough that half of it could be an entire other room if it wanted to be, with a sitting area complete with a fireplace, a king-sized bed that could sleep four people comfortably, and floor-to-ceiling windows that probably offer a stunning view of the grounds during daylight hours.
The decor is elegant—cream and gold tones with touches of deep blue. Fresh flowers sit on the dresser, and I can see a door that must lead to what is undoubtedly an enormous bathroom.
“This is…” I turn in a slow circle, taking in my surroundings. “This is very generous.”
“This is where I live.” Damian looks at me impassively. “You’re my wife now. ”
I nod, unsure of what else to say. “Breakfast is served at eight in the morning,” Mrs. Horvat cuts in.
“But if you sleep in, you’re welcome to get the kitchen to bring you something anytime.
A maid will be up in the morning to freshen up your towels and sheets.
” She glances at Damian. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you.” He nods to her, and she gives me a small, pleasant smile before bustling off back to bed… and leaving Damian and me alone.
A heavy silence stretches between us, several long moments passing awkwardly.
I’m well aware of what probably happens next, but I don’t feel prepared for it.
The night has seemed impossibly long, like days crammed into a few hours, and the trauma of it has left me exhausted.
It feels hard to recall that at the beginning of the evening, I was just going into work like any normal day.
My stomach clenches with a mixture of fear and resignation. This is what I signed up for, isn't it? Protection in exchange for… this. For being his wife in every sense of the word. He’ll expect it, of course. Men always do.
I couldn’t walk afterward, I was so sore. Carmen also said fucking him made her come. But she likes rough sex. I don’t know if I would, if I do. I don’t know what kind of sex I like at all, really.
I’m far from experienced. And I’m terrified that Damian will either expect things from me that I don’t know how to give, or simply take what he wants, leaving me broken in the process. Physically, if not emotionally.
Better him than five men on camera , I tell myself, sucking in a breath. It’s better than being trafficked, like Damian said I would’ve been if he and his men hadn’t shown up to put a stop to the entire operation.
Just rip the Band-Aid off. Hope it’s not so bad. Hope he comes quickly and it doesn’t hurt too much…
My hands shake as I reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head before I can lose my nerve.
I toss my T-shirt to the side, standing there in just my bra and cutoff shorts, and I have to resist the urge to cover myself with my arms as the cool air of the room raises goosebumps on my skin.
No issues with the air conditioning here, that’s for sure.
Damian goes completely still, his entire body tensing as he stares at me, pointedly not letting his gaze drop. "What are you doing?"
“We’re married.” I swallow hard, the words coming out more strangled-sounding than I want them to. I don’t want him to think I’m a coward, after all of this. “This is what you want, right?” I start to reach for the clasp of my bra, but his voice stops me.
"Stop."
The command is sharp, brooking no argument, and my hands freeze. I look up at him, confused by the expression on his face. He looks... angry? Disgusted? I can't tell. Does he not want me?
"I said stop." He takes a step back, putting distance between us. "Put your shirt back on."
"I don't understand." My voice comes out smaller than I intended. "It’s our wedding night. I… you don’t want to…?"
"No." The word is flat, final. "This is not what I want." He takes another step back, as if he needs to put as much distance between us as possible.
I blink at him, my confusion growing by the moment.
I can’t bring myself to look down to see if he’s aroused—if he is, it’s only going to make me more confused and scared, and if he’s not…
well, I don’t know how to feel about that.
Relieved, maybe? Concerned? I’m too tired to even begin to name the emotions swirling through me. “But…”
“There won’t be any of that.” His voice is harsh and cutting, as if he’s angry at me… or maybe at himself? Like so much else that’s happened, it doesn’t make sense. “Not tonight,” he adds. And then: “Not ever.”
Relief floods through me so suddenly and completely that my knees nearly buckle.
I don’t know why he’s saying that, why he doesn’t want me, but all I feel in that moment is an overwhelming relief that I won’t have to fuck him tonight…
or ever, according to him. I grab my shirt from where I dropped it, pulling it back on with shaking hands .
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, looking at him as I tug the grey material down. Although…I don’t know if I need to. Maybe it’s enough to just be glad that this is how things are.
Damian runs a hand through his blond hair, his expression and the gesture both frustrated.
With me, or with the fact that he’s not getting laid tonight, I don’t know which, but it’s clear that he’s agitated.
“This marriage is about protection. Nothing more.
You don't owe me anything, and I don't expect anything from you. "
"But we're married…" I don’t know why I’m arguing. The last thing I want is for him to change his mind. But it doesn’t make sense, and I need something about this night to make sense. This isn’t how men behave, in my experience.
"On paper." His expression is closed off, unreadable. "That's all it is. A legal arrangement designed to keep you alive. To give Konstantin a reason to protect you."
I back up until I feel my legs hit the side of the mattress and sink down onto the edge of the enormous bed, my legs suddenly too weak to support me.
I’ve never been so tired, I think, not even when Adam was a baby and I barely slept at all.
I lick my dry lips nervously, and I see Damian’s gaze flick down to my mouth for a split second before he looks back up at me. “So what happens now?”
“Now, you get some rest,” he says flatly. “We’ll talk tomorrow after I’ve discussed things with Konstantin. You’re safe here, Sienna, and so is Adam. Focus on that.”
It’s strange, hearing him say my son’s name. I feel an odd flutter in my chest. I’m afraid of this man, and yet…I don’t think he’ll hurt me or Adam.
“Damian?” I blurt out his name as I see him reach for the door, and he pauses, looking back at me. “Thank you,” I manage. “For saving me. For bringing us here. I… thank you.”
Surprise flickers across his face. "Lock the door behind me," he says instead of acknowledging my thanks. "And don't open it for anyone except me or Mrs. Horvat."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone in the opulent bedroom that's now apparently mine .
I sit there for a long moment, trying to process everything that's happened. This morning I woke up in my cramped apartment, worried about buying groceries and whether I’d be able to keep the electricity on, if I’d be able to pay Mary to watch Adam the next week while I was at work.
Tonight I'm sitting in a mansion, married to a man I barely know, my son asleep in a room that's nicer than anywhere we've ever lived.
I’m also a target of people I don’t know, trapped in a situation I don’t understand. I don’t know why I was taken tonight, why they chose me, what I did that caused me to end up in that van.
But I know that if Damian hadn’t been there, I might never have made it out. I might never have seen my son again. I’m grateful to him… I just don’t know what our lives look like now.
Don’t think about it, I tell myself as I fall back onto the bed.
I can only take one day at a time. Tomorrow, there will probably be more information, more things to think about.
I can consider it all on a clearer head, after a decent night’s sleep in a bed that feels like a cloud, with the horrors of tonight further behind me.
I stare up at the ceiling. I can’t stop hearing Damian’s voice in my head, the harshness when he told me to stop, to put my clothes back on. He could have taken what he wanted—if he wanted it. In his world, I'm sure that's exactly what most men would do. But he didn't.
What if Carmen was lying? Maybe she just wanted the other girls to think that she’d been with Damian. Maybe he’s not like that at all.
Or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t want me. I wonder if I should feel insulted by that, hurt… but I can’t process it enough to feel anything right now other than relief that I’m lying in this bed alone, instead of having to pleasure a man I barely know.
Maybe there’s more to Damian than meets the eye—or maybe he is just a brutal, cold Bratva enforcer. Either way, I’m not going to figure it out tonight.
For better or worse, this dangerous, complicated man is all that stands between my son, me, and the people who want us dead. And right now, that’s enough.
I should take a shower, I think. There’s blood on my skin and clothes, and I’m sweaty and grimy from the events of the night. But the bed is soft, and the room is blessedly cool, the soft swish of the air conditioning a gentle background noise instead of the rattling sound I’m used to.
Before I can find the energy to pry myself out of bed, I’m fast asleep.