Chapter 10 #3
“I pulled back because I don’t do half-measures, Sienna.
And you’re not a club girl. You’re not someone who knows how to walk away clean when this blows up.
Regan’s got you under her wing now. Tank’s old lady.
That makes you family whether you like it or not.
I won’t be the reason you wake up tomorrow regretting me.
Regan would kill me if we did a one nighter. ”
“Who said anything about one night? What happened to staying quiet. Like it never happened?” She walks closer. Fingers lightly back on my body.
I snorted. “Sienna I get why an engaged man would lose his head over you—damn baby you’re hot as fuck. Confident. Sexy. Too tempting to walk away from…”
She watched me, eyes wide, like she hadn’t expected me to give her anything back. I brushed by her, electricity sparking from just that alight touch as I crossed to the small balcony door, yanked it open, and draped the wet Henley over the railing to dry. Cool night air hit my bare chest.
“Shit! No! Bandit!”
The damn cat shot past my legs faster than a bullet. One gray blur, claws clicking on the concrete, and he was gone—over the railing, down the stairs, disappearing into the night like he’d been planning his escape for weeks.
“Shit, Sienna, I’m sorry—”
She was already moving.
She flew out the front door without a word, keys still on the counter, shoes still by the couch. I didn’t think. Just chased after her—shirtless, boots still on, heart hammering like an idiot—down the hallway, down the stairs, into the dark parking lot.
“Sienna!”
She didn’t slow down.
I kept running after her like a damn fool, the cool night air hitting my bare chest, the taste of her still on my tongue, and the whole messy night spinning faster than I could catch up.
“Shit, Sienna, I’m sorry—”
She was already moving.
She flew out the front door without a word, keys still on the counter, shoes still by the couch. I didn’t think. Just chased after her—shirtless, boots still on, heart hammering like an idiot—down the hallway, down the stairs, into the dark parking lot.
“Sienna!”
She didn’t slow down.
“Bandit!” she yelled, voice cracking as she scanned the shadows. “Bandit, you little shit—come back!”
I caught up to her at the edge of the lot, gravel crunching under my boots. “Sienna, wait—he’s probably just—”
“Bandit!” She took off again, cutting between two buildings into the narrow alley that ran behind the complex. I followed, lungs already burning, the cool night air slapping my bare chest.
We ran alley after alley.
She darted left at the first cross-street, calling his name over and over. I stayed right behind her, boots pounding pavement, eyes sweeping every dumpster, every parked car, every patch of scrub brush.
“You seen a gray cat?” I barked at a guy taking out his trash. “Little asshole with a bell on his collar?”
The man shook his head. Sienna didn’t even wait for the answer. She was already jogging deeper into the next alley, voice getting hoarse. “Bandit! Come on, you furry traitor—Bandit!”
I caught her arm at the next corner, both of us breathing hard. “He can’t have gone far. We’ll find him.”
She shook me off, eyes wild. “He’s an outdoor cat, Mason. He hates being locked up. This is my fault. I never should’ve—”
Another alley. Another stranger.
“Gray cat? Bell collar?” I asked a couple walking their dog.
They stared at my bare chest and tattoos like I was the threat, not the missing cat. Sienna pushed past them anyway, calling louder, voice raw now.
We kept going—three more alleys, four, five. Sweat ran down my back. My knuckles still ached from the bar fight. Every time she yelled for the cat her voice got smaller, more desperate, and every time I felt like more of an asshole for opening that balcony door.
Then the alley spit us out onto a brighter street lined with upscale bars. Neon signs glowed soft pink and gold. A martini bar called The Silver Leaf sat on the corner, valet stand out front.
Sienna slowed for half a second, scanning the sidewalk. I almost told her we should head back—
And then I saw them.
Rylee and the dentist husband.
Stepping out of the martini bar on the arm of the same clean-cut dentist I’d seen her with earlier. Her husband. The guy who’d replaced me with a six-figure car and a country-club life. The valet was already jogging off to fetch their Mercedes.
Rylee’s eyes landed on me first. Shirtless. Jeans low on my hips. Boots. Ink covering half my torso and both arms. Her gaze dragged over every inch of me like she was remembering exactly what I used to feel like under her hands.
Her husband noticed me a second later. His lip curled in a sneer. He looked me up and down—took in the blood on my knuckles, the sweat, the lack of shirt—and waved at the bouncer standing by the door.
“Hey—security. Attend to that, would you?” He jerked his chin in my direction like I was trash that needed hauling off.
The bouncer started toward us.
Before I could even open my mouth, Sienna moved.
She walked straight up to me, hips swaying like she had all the time in the world, and slid her arms around my bare torso. Her palms pressed flat against my back, warm and possessive, pulling me close until her body was flush with mine.
“Hey, babe,” she said loud enough for the whole sidewalk to hear, voice sweet as sugar and sharp as a blade. “I feel like a drink.”
She tilted her head up at me, eyes locked on mine for a beat, then cut a deliberate glance sideways at Rylee.
I felt Rylee’s stare like a brand. Her perfect smile slipped. Envy flashed across her face—quick, ugly, impossible to miss—before she could hide it.
Sienna’s arms tightened around me, fingers tracing the edge of one of my scars like she was staking a claim right there in front of God, the valet, and my ex. Her cheek brushed my chest. She smelled like lime and chocolate and pure satisfaction.
The bouncer stopped mid-step, confused.
Rylee’s husband looked like he’d swallowed something sour.
Sienna smiled up at me again, soft and wicked all at once. “Looks like I wasn’t the only rescue operation tonight.”
“That was my ex, Rylee.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Well I’m sure she already regrets things the way she was looking at you. I can tell he’s pinkie-sized, trust me.”
Just turned us both around, still wrapped around my waist like she belonged there, and started walking me down the sidewalk.
I let her.
My arm came around her shoulders on pure instinct, bare skin against her thin shirt, the heat of her body chasing away every ounce of the night’s bullshit.
Behind us I heard Rylee’s husband start arguing with the bouncer about something, but I didn’t look back.
Neither did Sienna.
For the first time since the fairy lights and the champagne toasts and the damn ring in my closet, the knot in my chest felt a little looser.
And the woman pressed against my side was the reason why.
We kept walking, my arm slung heavy around her shoulders, her body still glued to my side like we were some kind of matched set.
The sidewalk felt wider now, the neon glow from the bars fading behind us into the quieter stretch of street that led back toward her complex.
My bare skin prickled where the night air hit it, but the heat from her palm on my back—fingers splayed like she owned every inch of ink and scar there—kept the chill at bay.
For a minute, it was almost peaceful. The knot in my chest had loosened another notch, thanks to the way she’d just staked her claim in front of Rylee like it was nothing. Like I was worth claiming.
But peace never lasted long with Sienna.
Her steps slowed after half a block. Then stopped dead.
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, and the fire in her eyes wasn’t the good kind anymore.
It was the kind that came from hurt stacked on top of pissed-off, the kind that made a man brace like he was about to take a tire iron to the ribs.
“You,” she said, voice low and shaking, “are the reason Bandit’s out there somewhere right now.
Probably scared shitless. Or hit by a car.
Or... or God knows what.” Her arms dropped from around me, and she shoved both hands through her hair, yanking like she wanted to rip it out.
Or maybe mine. “I told you not to open that door. I told you. And you just... you stood there with that stupid grin on your face after he tore my place apart, like it was funny. Like it was his fault for being a cat who hates being cooped up.”
I opened my mouth, but she jabbed a finger into my chest hard enough to make my pec twitch.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare say he ‘missed me too’ again or some bullshit like that.
You blamed him back there, Mason. Like he’s the asshole for bolting the second you gave him an escape route.
He’s not the one who opened the damn balcony door after I’d spent weeks trying to get him settled in a new place.
You did that. Because you had to play big tough biker and air out your bloody shirt like some dramatic movie scene. ”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and just like that, the anger splintered into something rawer.
Hurt. Real hurt. Her eyes went glassy under the streetlight, and she blinked hard, like she hated that I was seeing it.
She spun away from me, pacing a tight circle on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around her middle now like she was holding herself together.
“I’m pissed at him too, okay? He’s a little shit.
But he’s my little shit. He’s all I’ve got right now that doesn’t come with club drama or exes or.
.. or whatever the hell this is.” She gestured between us, wild and frustrated.
“And now he’s gone because you couldn’t just leave the damn door shut for five minutes while we figured out.
.. whatever we were figuring out in there. ”