Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sienna
It had been almost a week since Thanksgiving, and avoiding Fury hadn’t become any easier.
After he dropped me off at my place following his family dinner, I claimed to have a headache. For the next two days, I responded to his incoming texts with one- or two-word replies before cutting communication altogether. I let his calls go straight to voicemail, deleting them without a second thought. I was honest enough with myself to understand that hearing his voice might shatter my resolve.
Work had been a nightmare. Since he was Gavin’s friend and everyone had seen Fury and me together multiple times, no one thought twice about letting him come to my office. So, I couldn’t hide there. He also knew all my usual spots around the club where I directed performances, which meant I had to change those up too.
I was just grateful that no one had asked about my erratic behavior, even though I knew they noticed. I wasn’t sure if the concerned looks Gavin cast my way were because he had picked up on my changes or if Fury had reached out to him, but either way, he hadn’t brought Fury up, and I was genuinely thankful for that.
Just the thought of Fury stung, but even that couldn’t prevent him from invading my thoughts constantly. Especially at the worst times. Like when I was supposed to be choosing new music and realized I’d gone through six songs without remembering a single one because my mind was too busy trying to figure out what features Fury and Rose shared. Or how Laila had to repeat herself three times about a costume order because I was lost in thought, staring at a candy bar and thinking about how the color had matched Fury’s eyes.
It was driving me insane. Crazy and miserable—what a delightful combination.
But I’d done the right thing.
I shuffled into the kitchen, yawning as I tightened the belt of my robe. I was halfway to the fridge to grab the milk when I noticed Vanessa at the stove, pouring pancake batter onto a pan.
I frowned. “It’s Wednesday, right?”
“It is,” she replied.
“I thought you had a meeting this morning.” I turned away from the fridge and reached for a mug.
“That’s next week. Which you’d know if you’d paid attention to our one-sided conversation yesterday. Or the day before.”
I winced. “Sorry.”
I stared at the coffee I’d just poured, debating whether adding sugar and creamer was worth the effort to retrieve either. Nope, I decided. It’d be better just to sit and sip the bitter liquid.
Vanessa’s sympathetic gaze lingered on me as she flipped the pancakes. “What’s going on?”
I shrugged.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, pointing the spatula at me. “I’m not accepting that. I’ll be more specific. What’s going on with you and Fury?”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad. Because if I have to spend one more morning watching your sorry ass trudge around in that ratty robe, looking all sad and pathetic, I’m going to march right over to Mr. Bigshot’s office and ask him what’s wrong.”
My head shot up so fast that it spun, but I didn’t wait for it to stop before blurting out, “You can’t do that.”
Vanessa’s eyebrows shot up, her expression shifting as she slid the pancakes onto a plate and brought it over to me. As she retrieved butter and maple syrup, she said, “You like him, Sienna. I know you do.”
“I do,” I admitted, reaching for the knife and fork she’d set before me.
Her kindness piled on a fresh layer of guilt; this was how she handled her worry—by taking care of me while trying to figure out the problem and how she could fix it.
She returned to the stove to prepare her own breakfast, giving me a moment to think as I ate. I knew there was no way I could avoid sharing, not when she’d made those funny-shaped pancakes. I’d never been able to resist those, and she knew it.
“It’s not about whether or not I like him,” I finally said.
“He likes you,” she countered. “Don’t even try to tell me he doesn’t. Men like him don’t bring girls flowers and invite them to spend holidays with their family if they don’t like them.”
“I know he does,” I said, setting down my fork and letting my shoulders slump. A heavy sigh escaped my lips. “How we feel doesn’t matter. Not when we don’t… move in the same circles.”
“Move in the same circles?” Vanessa echoed. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Remember that story last year about the Broadway star who fell in love with some British noble, ended up having his kid, and won a Tony? Everyone was calling it a Cinderella story?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, they presented at the Tonys together this year, right?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know about that, but the actress? She’s one of Fury’s cousins.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened as she sat down across from me. “No way!”
“They were both there,” I said. “Tony-winning Broadway star and British nobility.”
“Well, I mean, people like that have family, so a new girlfriend or whatever is bound to be surprised at a holiday dinner, right?”
“I guess,” I agreed. “But that’s not all. He also has a cousin who plays in the Philharmonic, another who’s a famous designer. I heard there’s an archeologist, someone who makes really expensive whiskey, and a professional soccer player.” I shook my head. “And no matter what the rest of them do, they’re rich. These people have money coming out of their ears.”
“That sounds painful,” Vanessa said dryly.
“They don’t flaunt it,” I continued. “I mean, the house we were at was big, but not a palace. Nice cars, but no Ferraris or whatever. No massive diamonds or crazy electronics.”
“Well, did any of them treat you badly?” she asked. “I mean, you don’t seem pissed, which is what the Sienna I know would be if someone looked down their nose at her.”
“No,” I blurted. I might’ve had my issues, but they were mine. I wouldn’t let anyone think Fury or his family had done anything wrong. “They were all great. Nice, and they weren’t faking it.”
Vanessa set down her fork and leaned back, folding her arms as she gave me a hard look. “So you’re saying that the rich, well-known family of your smoking-hot man—who likes you and whom you like—was genuinely nice when you came to Thanksgiving dinner as a last-minute addition… and you’re staying away from him because you ‘don’t move in the same circles’? Do I have that right?”
I was going to regret answering her, but when she got that look on her face, there was no point in trying to avoid it. She’d keep at me until she said her piece.
“Yes,” I said, mimicking her pose. “That’s right.”
“Then you need to stop being an idiot.”
I wished I could say I was surprised by her words, but nope. She had no problem being polite and kind to people, but if she thought someone needed the truth, she’d deliver.
“Look.” She leaned forward, her expression softening. “He’s a good man, and you said he knows about your past and doesn’t care. He wants to be with you. Don’t let your self-worth issues make you give up someone like that.”
I bristled at her ‘self-worth issues’ comment, but deep down, I knew that was the truth. That didn’t mean it annoyed me any less.
My irritation grew as Vanessa took her dishes to the sink and then headed back to her room. I wasn’t truly mad at her; I just didn’t want to think about what she’d said. I didn’t want to confront the reality that I was doing something I’d promised myself I’d never do.
I was seeing myself through the lens of how people like those cops viewed me. A whore. Someone beneath others. Not worthy of time or attention.
“Dammit, Vanessa,” I muttered as I pushed back from the table.
I needed to escape.
Instead of doing chores around the apartment like I usually would until it was time to head to the club, I got dressed and went straight in. I told myself it was to get a jump on some work because, with Christmas less than a month away, it was wise to work ahead. I just hoped that if I repeated that enough times, I’d start to believe it.
Except, thirty minutes later, when I told Laila why I’d come in early, I knew it was a lie. And when she followed me to my office, I realized she didn’t believe me either. So, I gave her the truth.
Sort of.
“My roommate and I are having a bit of a disagreement,” I said as I sat down behind my desk. “I thought it’d be a good idea to come here and let things cool down.”
“Anything I can help with?” Laila asked, concern lacing her voice.
I shook my head. “It’ll blow over.”
I fully expected Laila to either leave or start talking about work, but she lingered in the doorway, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure she should.
“Is there something else I can help you with?” I forced my voice to stay polite. No need to snap at her because I was having a bad day.
“Look, feel free to tell me to butt out and mind my own business,” she began, “but I can’t help noticing that things seem to have changed between you and Fury Gracen.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“He seems to do an awful lot of sitting and waiting for you or watching you, and you’ve been ignoring him.”
Irritation surged within me. First Vanessa, now Laila? While I respected and liked Laila, I felt like she was crossing some kind of line. I was getting my work done, and that’s all she should’ve cared about.
I swallowed all that down. The thing I liked about the club—the way we all looked out for each other—was exactly what she was doing. I couldn’t let them have my back in one instance and then get pissed when they tried to get involved in another.
“I know Gavin and Fury are friends, but I don’t really know him, so I’m going to ask you if he’s done something. If he has, I’ll tell Gavin we need to bar Fury from the club, no matter their friendship.”
“No,” I said quietly. “He didn’t do anything. I’m fine. I just want to focus on my work.”
Laila stood there for a few more moments before nodding. “All right. But if you need anything, even just a listening ear, you let me know, okay?”
I agreed, even though I never planned on taking her up on her offer. But I appreciated the sentiment.
Yet, as the day dragged on, the restlessness I felt overwhelmed any positive emotions I’d experienced that day. I hated this. My mind felt scattered, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I kept scanning the crowd for Fury or glancing at my phone, wondering if he’d try to reach out again. While I should’ve felt relieved when I reached the end of the night without seeing or hearing from him, I didn’t. I was left only with annoyance over how the day had unfolded.
As I made my way down the sidewalk toward the subway, I took a couple of deep breaths, using the chilly November air to clear my head. That’s when I realized that I’d been hearing something behind me for the last two blocks. I didn’t want to glance back and give anything away, but I quickened my pace, checking my wrist as if I had a watch.
Ahead of me, people were moving toward the entrance of the subway. If I could reach the stairs, there’d be enough people around to look back and see if my imagination was running wild.
I never got that far. When I was still a block away from my goal, pain exploded across the back of my head, and I felt a dim sensation of falling before everything went black.