Chapter 19
E vening settles heavily over the city, deep shadows stretching across my office.
I glance at my watch, the time ticking steadily toward the gala. Sienna's had the day off, though she probably didn't realize it was intentional. The event tonight would be demanding enough, a new challenge I know she’ll be eager for.
My shoes echo softly on the polished marble as I head down to the Ledger spa. Anticipation coils low in my stomach. I sent her a dress earlier today—Ledger red, provocative, perfectly tailored. But something tells me she won’t have worn it.
I'm counting on that defiance, in fact.
She should push me on this.
Entering the spa, the soothing scents of lavender and eucalyptus fill the air. The attendants immediately quiet, stepping aside respectfully as I approach the private lounge where Sienna waits.
My heart picks up pace just slightly.
When I open the door, my suspicion is confirmed. There she stands, breathtakingly beautiful but definitely not wearing the dress I sent. Instead, she’s chosen a classic little black number that hugs every curve of her body perfectly.
Her hair cascades over her shoulders, styled loosely, effortlessly elegant. Her eyes snap to mine immediately, challenging and slightly defiant beneath her careful composure.
I arch a brow, letting my eyes trail slowly down her figure before returning to meet her gaze directly.
“Interesting choice,” I say coolly, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Care to explain why you chose to ignore my instructions?”
She lifts her chin slightly, clearly prepared for this question. I watch with interest as she smooths down the fabric of her dress, gathering herself.
“I looked up tonight’s exhibit,” she begins confidently, holding my gaze steadily.
“The artist specializes in black and white paintings, with red as the only accent color. Wearing the dress you chose would have competed with the artwork. I didn't want to offend the artist by clashing with the pieces she's worked so hard to create.”
Her explanation is perfect, considerate, and impressively thoughtful. She passes the test without even realizing she’s taken one.
A corner of my mouth threatens to twitch upward, but I suppress it, maintaining my neutral expression.
“You’re thinking like a Companion. Every detail matters and it will be your job to make sure it goes smoothly. Well done”
Like aways, she hangs on that small compliment. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth nervously trying to hide the joy she gets when I tell her she’s done something right.
It’s a tick I want to punish her for. Take that lip between my teeth and teach her I’m the only one that’s allowed to bite it.
Except I’m not. She’s off limits.
I finally concede, straightening from the doorframe. “Shall we?”
In the limo, silence settles between us comfortably at first, the low hum of tires over pavement filling the space. I finally break it, my tone measured. “Tonight, you'll be surrounded by money—prospective clients eager for an opportunity to meet a Ledger Companion.”
Sienna’s eyes flicker toward me, curiosity evident in their blue depths. “Anything specific I should do?”
“Simply mix and mingle,” I reply evenly, adjusting my cufflinks. “Enjoy the art, the company. But keep in mind—for some of these prospects, you are the art they'll be admiring tonight, the masterpiece they'll be vying to purchase.”
Her gaze sharpens, understanding blooming behind her eyes as she absorbs my words. “Understood.”
“Good.” I relax slightly into my seat, studying her quietly as the city lights blur by outside the tinted windows.
We arrive at the gallery to find the party already in full swing, elegantly dressed guests mingling beneath the soft glow of strategically placed lights. I step out first, offering my hand to help Sienna from the limo. She takes it, her fingers trembling slightly with excitement or nerves—perhaps both.
I tuck it into the crook of my elbow and she slides closer to me.
It’s immediately obvious she's never attended an event quite like this, though she's doing an admirable job masking her curiosity beneath practiced composure.
Heads subtly turn as we enter, conversations quieting momentarily. I’m accustomed to it—the subtle recognition, the intrigue of the Ledger—and tonight is no exception. But tonight, the attention also lands squarely on Sienna, as it should.
The woman of the hour notices our arrival immediately. She strides toward us, a vision in a sleek red dress designed to match the vivid accents in her art.
Tall, strikingly beautiful, and effortlessly confident, she smiles warmly as she approaches.
I lean forward slightly, kissing my old friend’s cheek. "Clara," I greet her warmly, feeling Sienna tense beside me before stepping away when Clara smoothly takes my arm, standing intimately close.
"Lucian," Clara purrs, "always a pleasure."
I see Sienna’s throat move as she swallows down a flash of jealousy, exactly as I expected she might. A lesson she must learn, though I'd be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy seeing it bother her.
“Sienna,” I say, gently drawing her attention, “this is Clara, tonight’s featured artist—and a former Ledger Companion. One of the first, actually.”
Sienna’s expression shifts ever so slightly, a mixture of surprise and insecurity quickly masked. She studies Clara briefly, clearly measuring herself against the other woman.
Another important lesson—there’s no room for insecurity in a space where each Companion is a masterpiece in her own right.
Clara gives me a quick rundown of the viewing order for the gallery, thanking me repeatedly for my patronage and support. She touches my arm again lightly before rushing off eagerly to greet other guests.
Sienna tries to step away as well, but I reach out, capturing her wrist gently yet firmly, keeping her close.
I lean in slightly, my mouth close to her ear. "Your first failure tonight," I murmur softly. "Jealousy and competition are beneath a Ledger Companion."
She pulls her wrist away sharply, sparks lighting in her eyes. "Jealous? Hardly," she says smoothly, composing herself quickly. "I was just daydreaming about being taller. Is that a crime?"
My eyes narrow slightly, though amusement threatens at her defiance. "Be careful, Sienna," I warn quietly. "I'll be watching closely tonight."
I step back, giving her space to mingle.
Over the next hour, she moves gracefully through the gallery, her presence magnetic. Even as I attempt to engage politely with acquaintances, my awareness never fully leaves her.
The soft glow of the low lights catches her auburn hair, reminding me vividly of how it felt wrapped tightly around my fist last night.
I half-listen to Adam, an investor I've known for years, as he drones on about his latest ventures. "Odd about Mateo," he muses quietly, swirling his drink thoughtfully. "Not like him to take a day off. The man even worked the day his first son was born, for God’s sake."
I hum dismissively, eyes narrowing as I track Sienna again.
Adam seems oblivious to my distraction, continuing to speculate aloud.
But something else is demanding my attention. An instinct that sends alarms through me when I notice a man lingering nearby, his attention fixed unwaveringly on Sienna.
He already approached her.
Twice.
The first time, she did what she should have and engaged him like a Companion. Enticing him with what she withholds, making him want to become a member for a chance.
The second time, it was short. She didn’t hold eye contact, instead focusing forward on the art. A believable distraction.
But now he’s back. Positioned closely behind her, eyes lingering in a manner that sparks possessive anger within me.
My knuckles flex subtly, tension coiling tight within my chest. I don't like the way he's looking at her—not one fucking bit.
She dismisses herself from her current conversation, pausing before a large, evocative painting. The art is raw, passionate—two figures entwined in black, accented only by bold, violent streaks of red. A hand grips a throat, both threatening and protective.
My steps are quiet as I approach, sliding my palm possessively over her back, gripping her hip firmly.
She gasps softly, body stiffening, then subtly relaxes into my touch. The man who’d been lurking behind her retreats immediately, understanding my silent claim.
"What do you see?" I ask softly.
She hesitates, then quietly answers, "Trust. She trusts him to protect and pleasure her, even though he has the power to hurt her. But he won't—unless she asks him to."
That last part she says with a daring coyness in her eyes.
I’m momentarily stunned by the depth of her insight. It's exactly what I feel every time I’m near her, this overwhelming need to protect and dominate simultaneously.
And it’s driving me fucking crazy.
"Exactly," I murmur, impressed.
Her cheeks flush delicately, and I tighten my hold on her hip, before I remember I don’t need to piss a circle around her and ward off that dickhead.
I decide to walk with Sienna for a few more paintings.
When she’s not actively trying to make my head explode, she’s quite enjoyable—for reasons other than my urge to rub my hands over her smooth ass.
I barely allowed myself a teasing touch last night, and it took all my strength and patience to pull away from her, not to rip her panties off and sink deep into her.
God, I deserve an award for the restraint I showed. She wanted it—badly—but she's not ready yet.
While moving gracefully through the gallery, Sienna's presence is magnetic. But my attention shifts sharply as a known troublemaker, approaches. An arrogant trust-fund schmuck that thinks he can buy his way into anything.
Except the Ledger, you prick.
“Lucian Vale,” Thomas says smoothly, his gaze sliding suggestively toward Sienna. “I'm surprised to see you here tonight, given the recent...disturbances in certain circles. People are talking, you know.”
I stiffen, tension rippling through me instantly.
Thomas knows exactly what he's doing—hinting at things he shouldn't know about. Sienna picks up on the subtle implications immediately; her eyes flick toward me, cautious yet curious.
My hand moves instinctively, capturing her wrist, pulling her just slightly behind me. She doesn't protest, and a quiet satisfaction fills me.
She may battle me on training, but she recognizes when a situation requires caution. I stand taller, feeling the trust she's silently placed in me.
I lean forward, my voice dropping low and dangerous. “Be careful, Thomas. Certain topics are best left unspoken—especially when they don’t concern you.”
Thomas’s smirk fades under my menacing gaze, understanding my implicit threat. He steps back, nodding stiffly before turning away.
Once he's gone, Sienna steps from behind me, her eyes sharp with accusation. “What was that about?”
My response comes out sharper than intended. "Nothing that concerns you."
The defiant veil drops instantly over her features, eyebrow cocked in challenge.
“Fine. You know everyone talked about you disappearing for weeks knee-deep in a bloodbath. Then you come back, putting tracking devices on me, clients bailing on their accounts, and you really want to pretend everything's fine? Go ahead. But don’t pretend I'm stupid or that I should turn a blind eye if I might be in danger.”
I open my mouth to tell her to watch it. That I would never let anything happen to my girls, but she doesn’t wait for an answer.
Turning abruptly and placing her drink on a server's tray before she storms off toward the hallway leading to the bathroom.
I watch her until I can’t see her anymore. My palm twitching at my side.
With a deep huff, I rake my hands through my hair.
Taking in the space, the crowd is beginning to clear out and Clara seems to finally have a moment to herself.
While Sienna is in the restroom, I finalize my purchase of one of Clara’s paintings—the large one Sienna admired earlier.
Clara gives me a resigned smile, gratitude clear in her eyes. "Thank you, Lucian. Your support–means everything."
“You did wonderfully,” I tell her genuinely. “I'm proud of you.”
Glancing around, I realize Sienna hasn't returned. A jolt of unease hits when I also don't see the creep who had been eyeing her all evening.
Excusing myself swiftly, I hand Clara my whiskey glass and stride purposefully toward the hallway.
Something inside me tells me that son-of-a-bitch is going to be here.
My anger ignites instantly when I see him cornering Sienna against the wall near the restroom entrance. She’s visibly tense, her eyes blazing, but she hasn’t yet called out.
I’m a storm down that fucking hallway, my steps silent, my fists balled, he doesn’t even hear me coming.
Sienna spots me approaching, relief flooding her expression, and something possessive flares hot inside me.
Before the man fully registers my presence, I seize him, turning him abruptly and striking him squarely across the face with calculated precision. Grabbing his shirt, I headbutt him sharply before smashing his face into the drywall, the impact brutally satisfying.
“Lucian!” Sienna gasps, startled.
The man collapses, groaning weakly, blood streaming from his nose. My breath comes in controlled bursts, adrenaline surging, yet my rage remains icy cold, tightly coiled beneath my composed exterior.
The image of Sienna trapped, vulnerable, sends a fresh wave of fury through me. Coldly, deliberately, I step over him, reaching for Sienna’s hand and pulling her protectively close.
Her safety matters above all else.
“Let me see.” I quickly inspect her for injury, my jaw tight with tension and a fierce need to shelter her from harm. “You’re okay?”
“I'm fine,” she assures me, voice steady despite the lingering tension in her body.
“Fucking asshole. Did he touch you?” I look back at the piece of shit, tempted to kick the piss out of him for good measure.
“Lucian.” Sienna’s voice pulls me back with a tug on my arm. “I’m okay.”
My chest tightens, her courage both admirable and frustrating. I should never have allowed this situation to unfold.
“Let's get out of here,” I murmur softly, guiding Sienna away, my pulse still pounding from a potent blend of anger, protectiveness, and an unsettling tenderness I’m not ready to acknowledge.
As soon as we emerge from the hallway, I spot a member of Ledger Security—a man from my detail, off-duty tonight but immediately attentive.
"Take care of that," I command quietly, nodding toward the crumpled figure behind me. He complies without question.
Sienna stays close as I lead her toward the gallery exit, her hand still firmly clasped in mine. The possessiveness and fury in my veins refuse to fade, my jaw clenched tightly as I guide her toward the waiting limo.
The night air hits us sharply, a cold contrast to the heated violence we’ve just left behind.
She glances up at me, questions swimming silently in her gaze. Questions I know I owe her answers to—but not yet. Not here.
I help her into the limo, my hand lingering protectively at the small of her back, sensing the slight tremble she tries so hard to hide. I slide in beside her, shutting the door with a firm, controlled click.
As the car pulls away from the curb, tension still coils tightly within me. Because tonight confirmed something I can’t deny, something dangerous and consuming:
Sienna isn’t just a Companion I'm responsible for.
She’s mine.