Thirty-One
The night air is a relief against my overheated skin. My veins still buzz from the adrenaline of it all. I feel alive. My pulse is still hammering, my thoughts spinning so fast I can barely catch them.
Nathan is beside me, a steady presence as he, Julian, and I make our way onto the sidewalk outside the hotel. Overhead, the city lights gleam while well-dressed people filter out from the lobby.
Julian runs a hand through his hair. “You are unbelievable,”
he tells me. “Seriously. Is this really fake? I might try and steal you for myself.”
I let out a breathless laugh, flattered, but before I can form a witty comeback, I feel Nathan press a warm, possessive hand to the small of my back.
He’s always so intense with these small touches. So unyielding, like he needs to keep me physically close. A flicker of heat zips through my spine.
Julian’s gaze drops, noting the exact spot where Nathan’s fingers burn into me.
A part of me knows I should step away, keep the boundaries we agreed on.
But I don’t move.
I don’t want to.
Julian’s grin stretches wider, eyes dancing. “I mean it, Sienna. You killed it in there.”
I shake my head, still breathless, still riding the high. “You think?”
He shoots me an emphatic nod. “Oh, I know. I’ve been trying to get Crane to move on this deal for months, and you practically closed it in one conversation.”
Nathan hums in agreement. “Things went well,”
he says, and I glance up to catch him looking at me with that dark, assessing gaze. Like he’s trying to figure me out all over again.
I’m not sure how I feel about being studied so closely, but the sparks in my belly betray me.
“Mr. Calloway. Mr. Blackwood.”
Crane’s voice slices through the night air like a polished blade. We turn in unison to see him a few feet away, approaching with the same unhurried ease that screams power. Julian and Nathan shift into a more professional stance, but I stay frozen, heart still pounding.
Crane extends his hand first, shaking Nathan’s, then Julian’s. “I was hoping to catch you before you left,”
he says. My heart leaps, a coil of tension wrapping around my lungs.
Richard’s gaze lingers for half a second, and then he says, “You have a deal.”
Those four words slam into me like a shockwave. Julian laughs while Nathan’s posture loosens a fraction. It's a quiet release of tension I sense through the hand still at my back.
“Looking forward to working with you,”
Nathan says, his tone cool but edged with relief.
Crane turns his stare on me, and I nearly choke on the intensity. “You gentlemen,”
he muses, “owe her. She sold me your deal.”
I forget how to breathe.
Me?
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Crane doesn’t need an answer. He gives me a small, firm nod, then disappears back into the hotel.
Julian barks out a joyous laugh. He slings an arm around me and, before I realize it, rips me from Nathan’s arms to spin me in a quick circle.
“Oh my God!”
I shriek, clutching his shoulders as he lifts me off the ground.
He sets me down, grinning like a madman. “I’m keeping you,”
he declares, as if I’m some magical good-luck charm.
I stumble, still breathless. “Okay, okay,”
I laugh. “You’re welcome.”
“Want a new job?”
he asks, only half-joking.
I blink. “That’s not really my…I mean, I’m happy where I am.”
“Oh, I don’t know,”
Nathan interjects. “You looked pretty comfortable in there.”
My heart stutters.
For a second, the entire world narrows to Nathan’s voice, the way it wraps around me. I remember the meltdown at his mother’s house and the boyish ease he carried at the diner, but he’s neither of those men right now. He’s the confident CEO, fresh off a victory.
Julian clears his throat. “Well, this has been fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Nathan arches a brow. “That’s a short list.”
Julian cackles, turning to me. “Goodnight, Sienna.”
A friendly wink, and he’s gone, phone already in hand, probably working again.
A valet steps forward to hand Nathan his car keys, receiving a crisp tip in return.
Effortlessly, Nathan turns and opens the passenger door, offering his hand to help me in. Part of me wants to protest that I don’t need it, but I accept it anyway.
The second he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand—so fleeting it might be imagined—a spike of heat rushes through me. I bite my lip, trying to stifle the swirl of sensations flooding my veins.
God. If we keep feeding this tension, there won’t be a line left between real and fake.
He drives in silence for the first few minutes, navigating the city streets with smooth efficiency. The hush inside the SUV feels thick.
“You’re incredible,”
he says suddenly, catching me off guard. My pulse leaps, and I turn to him, swallowing. “You know that, right?”
He keeps his focus on the road, but there’s an intensity in his voice. Something that makes my heart squeeze.
I force a wry smile. “That’s dramatic.”
“I’m serious, Sienna.”
I study his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the faint tension that never fully leaves his features. The memory of him yesterday with that haunted exhaustion in his eyes surfaces unbidden. But here he is, giving me credit I’m not sure I deserve.
“Well, thank you,”
I murmur. “You and Julian did the heavy lifting. That was me just paying you back for the burger last night.”
“Julian’s right,”
Nathan continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “If you ever decide you hate your job, we’d be lucky to have you.”
I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. “What are you going to do, Calloway? Lock me in your fancy office until the next fundraiser?”
He’s at a red light now, turning his head just enough to arch a brow. “I’m being serious.”
My lips twitch. “You do realize I have a wedding to survive first, right? That’s a full-time job on its own.”
He cracks a hint of a smile. “You’re talented. That’s all I’m saying.”
My heart beats a little faster. I open my mouth to say something, but he slips his hand from the wheel to gently graze my chin, tipping my face toward him. It’s a slow touch, but enough to make my skin tingle where his fingers brush me.
A shiver snakes down my spine, and I let my eyes flutter shut for half a second. “Nathan…”
I whisper, uncertain what I’m asking.
“If it were up to me, my office would be the last place I’d lock you away.”
My breath hitches. That single line crackles with innuendo, forcing me to remember the no-sex clause I insisted on. The clause that’s precariously close to shattering anyway.
“Where, then?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, just keeps his hand there a beat longer, letting me feel the heat of his touch. Then he retracts it, smirking as he focuses on the road again. “Let’s just say it might involve safe words,”
he rumbles.
My mouth goes dry. The images that conjures up scorch my mind until I’m practically squirming in the passenger seat.
The light turns green, and we move again. The city lights flicker across his face in golden strokes, highlighting his features. Something in my chest clenches at that sight. Did I ever think I’d see him like this, stripped of some outward armor, letting me glimpse small signs of vulnerability?
By the time we pull up outside my parents’ house, my heart’s still in my throat.
He kills the engine. We sit there for a second, the tension pressing in before he climbs out, rounding the car to open my door. I slip out, letting the night air cool my flushed cheeks.
“You’re very well-practiced at taking women home,”
I quip, trying to summon my usual sarcasm.
He just silently holds out a hand. Despite my attempt at levity, I can’t ignore the swirl of heat in my belly. When I step back, I feel the loss of his touch.
“Goodnight, Calloway,”
I manage, half-turning to go.
“Goodnight, Sienna.”
His voice is soft, the shape of my name lingering.
I start toward the front door. One step, two steps.
A twist of something inside me forces me to pivot. I expect him to be sliding back into the driver’s seat, but he’s not. He’s standing at the driver’s door, one hand braced on the roof, staring at me.
My pulse leaps. I swallow, stepping toward him again.
“So,”
I begin quietly, “if I were just any other woman you were dropping off after a night… If we didn’t have a contract, no fundraiser, no wedding, no arrangement. If this was real—”
“But there is a contract.”
His tone is rough, filled with something I can’t quite name.
“And you stick to your contracts,”
I say, digging my fingers into my clutch.
He swallows. Hard. “I do.”
“Yeah, well…”
I trail off, feeling unsteady. “If there wasn’t?”
I don’t even know why I ask. Curiosity? Desperation for clarity? A need to know how a man like him would handle a woman he truly wanted, outside of a one-night stand, outside of the boundaries of fake dating. If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that Nathan has sides to him I never expected.
For a moment, he just stares. Then he moves, pushing off the car in slow, deliberate steps until he’s right in front of me, heat rolling off him. He lifts one hand, letting his fingers skim my shoulder as he traces the strap of my dress down my arm.
My body goes rigid with anticipation as his mouth hovers just a whisper from mine. I can feel him everywhere. His scent, his warmth.
It’s when he leans in, lips brushing mine, that I feel it.
I suck in a breath.
At first, the kiss is soft, controlled. A tentative test. But the instant I sigh into him, his restraint snaps. His hands grip my waist, yanking me flush against him, mouth slanting over mine with raw hunger. I melt, sinking into him, my fingers fisting the fabric of his suit jacket. The world fades to a rush of heat and the taste of his lips.
He kisses me deeper, his breath ragged. I gasp, and he swallows it, tangling his fingers in my hair. Everything in me screams to let go and lose myself in him completely. My mind whirls. This is precisely the line we’re not supposed to cross again, yet here we are, crossing it and setting it on fire.
His forehead comes to rest on mine, both of us breathing hard. “Tell me to stop,”
he mutters, voice hoarse with restraint.
He used those words once before, the night I ended up in his penthouse. I told him then that I didn’t want him to stop. The difference now is this arrangement, the wedding, the knowledge that I can’t just flee in the morning. But some traitorous part of me still doesn’t want him to stop.
I open my mouth, but the word that comes out isn’t what either of us expects. “No.”
Nathan curses under his breath and spins me, my back hitting the car door with a metallic thud. The fire in his eyes is searing, his hands roaming my shoulders, my arms, gripping my waist again. I arch into him, my mind a hazy swirl of want. His mouth drags along my jaw, teeth scraping my neck before soothing it with his tongue. A needy moan escapes me.
“Sienna! You’re home!”
My mother’s voice barrels through the night.
We freeze, panic slamming into me so fast my heart practically ricochets off my ribs. I yank myself from Nathan’s grip. He steps back, fists clenched, chest heaving. Our heads snap around to see my mother, barefoot, in her robe, blinking at us from the front door.
Oh. My. God.
I scramble to look presentable, smoothing my hair, trying to calm my labored breathing. Nathan, for his part, is coiled tight as a spring. The heat emanating off him could probably fry an egg on the driveway.
“Mom,”
I say, clearing my throat. “What are you doing up?”
“You know I won’t sleep until you’re home,”
she says, as though it’s obvious. I swear she spots the tension hanging between Nathan and me like a flashing neon sign. A slow smile spreads across her face, suspiciously bright. “Look at you lovebirds,”
she coos. “How was your night?”
I want to disappear. My skin is on fire, and my lips are swollen from the kiss. Meanwhile, Nathan stands a foot away, trying to look calm, but the frustration at being interrupted and the lust still throbbing between us is impossible to miss.
I force a shaky laugh. “It was fine, Mom. I’ll be in soon.”
She lingers another beat, her eyes dancing between us.
“Goodnight, Nathan,”
she finally says.
His voice is steady but strained. “Goodnight, Mrs. Blake.”
She disappears inside, and the moment the door closes, Nathan exhales like he just survived war.
What the hell did we just do?
He clamps his jaw, hands in tight fists. For a second, I swear he’s about to drag me back against him and finish what we started. But he doesn’t. We both know we can’t, not here, not now.
We need to go back. We need to retrace our steps back to our agreement.
Tomorrow starts the wedding weekend.
He owes me.
That was the deal—fundraiser for him, wedding for me.
I rub my temples, remembering that we’re not done.
Not by a long shot.
The lines between us are tangled beyond recognition, and it can’t be that way.
I've learned my lesson.
I refuse to be someone’s backup.
Someone's second choice.
I was that for far too long with Daniel, always waiting around, constantly wondering where I stood, never sure if I was truly wanted.
Nathan made it clear from the moment I made that stupid contract that he doesn’t have time for relationships.
He’s hardly even in New York, and he’s always chasing after the next thing.
Well, I’m done being second. I won’t wait around for someone to decide my worth because I deserve to be first, not an afterthought in someone’s life.
Though this all started as nothing more than a one-night stand turned business arrangement, it’s starting to feel like more.
I know it, and he knows it.
If I don't rein it back in, if I don't redraw the lines that have grown dangerously blurred, things will get messy, and I’m not ready for that kind of chaos.
With a fractured exhale, I hold out my hand.
He stares at it like it’s on fire.
“Shake my hand,”
I tell him.
“Sienna—”
“Shake my hand.”
He does, his grip firm.
I close my eyes, steadying myself. “My part of the bargain is done,”
I tell him. “Now it’s time for yours.”
I see something in his eyes shift away from the heated stare and more to the professional businessman.
He dips his chin in understanding and shakes my hand before I drop it.
“Goodnight, Sienna,”
he says abruptly, breaking the loaded silence.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Goodnight, Calloway.”
∞∞∞
Harper: Why are you awake?
Me: I could ask you the same thing. It’s even later in New York.
Harper: Eli took me for dinner, then he had me for dessert, and he went back for seconds.
Me: I’m not sure whether to be grossed out or jealous.
Harper: That answers my other question. I guess you didn’t accidentally trip and fall into his bed?
Me: No. The only bed I’ve fallen into is my own.
Harper: Suspicious. What happened?
Me: Nothing.
Harper: Sienna.
Me: Fine. But first, promise not to freak out.
Harper: Absolutely not. Spill.
Me: Nathan kissed me.
Harper: …
Me: Hello??
Harper: I needed a moment of silence for this information to fully sink in.
Me: Can you be normal for five seconds?
Harper: Okay, I am slightly freaking out, but I mean, he railed you six ways to Sunday not so long ago. What’s the big deal with a kiss?
Me: We have a contract. This is simply a business deal. Kissing, sex… it complicates things.
Harper: Ah, yes. Business. The most professional of relationships always involve torrid sexual history.
Me: Harper!
Harper: He kissed you, and you’re texting me instead of, I don’t know, straddling him in the back of his car?
Me: Seriously, I tried. My mother interrupted.
Harper: Moms are such cock blockers.
Harper: You need to remember that you’re Sienna Freaking Blake. You do not run from a kiss, even from a man like him.
Me: It’s not that simple.
Harper: Oh? Is it because you like him? Is that it? Did our little emotionally-walled-off flight risk catch a feeling?
Me: I will block you.
Harper: But you won’t because you love me.
Me: Debatable.
Harper: Listen, if corporate grump daddy wants to spoil you for the week, why not? Things are already going to be weird when all of this ends. And this time next week, you’ll be back here, in my arms, where you’re safe.
Me: True.
Harper: Safe, Sienna. With me. In our apartment. Where there are no trazillionaire men who look at you like they want to eat you alive.
Me: …
Harper: OH MY GOD HE LOOKED AT YOU LIKE HE WANTED TO EAT YOU ALIVE, DIDN’T HE??
Me: Bye, Harper.
Harper: WAIT WAIT WAIT. Just breathe for a second. Stop overthinking. Stop spiraling. I know you. You catch feelings too easily, and then you panic. Maybe relax for five minutes and think about this. It’s a kiss. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world.
Me: I hate that you know me so well.
Harper: You’d be lost without me.
Me: Also debatable.
Harper: Listen, let him spoil you. Let him flirt. Let him look at you like that. And when it’s over, you’ll have a damn good story to tell me over mimosas.
Me: You’re right. It’s not a big deal.
Harper: I know I’m right. And now that I have you admitting that in text, I’m screenshotting it and framing it.
Me: It’ll go nice in our hallway. It’s missing something.
Harper: Right next to the Live, Laugh, Love sign you drunkenly bought and refuse to throw out.
Me: I’ll text you tomorrow. Love you.
Harper: Love you too. But if he kisses you again and you don’t text me immediately, I will haunt you.