Chapter 14 – Sienna
“Oh, look at them,” Vivian sighs, nodding toward the corner of the restaurant, where the men are gathered, glasses in hand, laughter spilling freely. We’re at the bar, huddled together on stools, having fun.
“I like seeing them like this. Relaxed. Human. They carry so much responsibility, sometimes I think the stress is carved into their bones.”
I follow her gaze. Sebastian’s brothers look…easy. Dangerous men at rest. There’s something oddly domestic about it.
Elara smiles, folding her arms. “That’s why I don’t negotiate with Roman,” she says. “Saturdays and Sundays are sacred. No meetings, no calls unless the world is actually ending.”
Sasha raises a brow. “And he agrees to that?”
“Oh, he complains,” Elara says serenely. “Loudly. Every single time.” She grins. “But I make him tea, book a masseuse, and force him to watch shows with me while I bake. By Sunday night, he’s unbearable because he doesn’t want it to end.”
Vivian laughs. “You’ve trained him.”
“I prefer civilized him.”
Sasha gasps dramatically. “I do almost the same with Lev.”
Vivian turns, curious. “Almost?”
Sasha’s lips curve, unapologetic. “Well…ours usually ends with a happy ending.”
Vivian swats her arm. “Sasha!”
“What?” Sasha shrugs, unrepentant. “Stress relief is important.”
I laugh softly, surprising myself. The sound feels unfamiliar—looser than I’ve allowed in days.
Vivian glances at me then, her expression gentler. “What about you, Sienna?” she asks. “What’s your plan for Sebastian? You strike me as someone who likes structure.”
I lift my glass, considering. “I think,” I say slowly, “that some men don’t know what they need until someone decides for them.”
Elara smiles knowingly. Sasha hums in agreement.
Across the room, Sebastian laughs at something Roman says, his shoulders easing in a way I hadn’t noticed before.
I look away.
I’m not here to soften him. Unlike the other wives, I won’t stop until I turn him into a shell of himself.
The girls’ conversation continues, light and unaware, but my mind is elsewhere. My phone buzzes in my bag. I pull it out slowly, and my chest tightens. Viktor Mikhailov. “I’m outside.”
An hour after dinner at Dimitri’s mansion, Lev suggested we come out for drinks, a little bar to unwind. Everyone piled into cars. Viktor had been persistent about meeting, but it’s always tricky with Sebastian shadowing me like a hawk—even when we barely speak.
Meeting him here, in public, felt smart. Calculated. Safe—or at least, safer than inviting him inside the house.
But now that he’s here, I feel a pang of guilt. A family gathering…and I’ve brought this dangerous man into it. There’s no turning back. I have to go.
“Sienna, are you okay? You look white,” Sasha says, concern lacing her voice. I glance up at the circle of worried faces.
“I’m…fine. I just need to take another call.”
“Oh. Should we come with you? It’s a little dark outside,” she asks.
“No,” I say softly, with a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”
They nod and wave me off, their expressions lingering as I move toward the side door. I glance at Sebastian briefly—he’s deep in conversation with Konstantin, the new presence at our table, who’s unreadable as ever.
I slip outside through the side entrance, shoulders squared, arms crossed lightly around myself as I move through the garden. The shadows stretch long in the moonlight, but my path is clear. At the far end, a black car waits, silent and patient.
Tonight, everything shifts. And Sebastian? He has no idea.
The car door opens before I even reach it.
Viktor Mikhailov steps out. Tailored suit. Deceptive eyes. A smile that doesn’t touch the sharpness behind them.
“Sienna Roth,” he drawls, letting the syllables hang in the night air. “Mrs. Rusnak now, I hear. Congratulations.”
I don’t return the smile. My arms stay crossed. “You said you had something for me. Hurry up.”
Viktor circles me slowly, predatorily, as if measuring prey that isn’t nearly as fragile as expected. “Your husband’s…infamy isn’t just in art and forgery. He has enemies. Powerful ones. People who want him exposed. Removed. I’m simply the one polite enough to ask if you’d like to help.”
“I’m not helping you hurt him,” I say, voice cold, controlled. “That’s non-negotiable. I will not hurt Sebastian.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Did I ask you to hurt him? No. I said expose him.”
He produces an envelope, thick and heavy, sealed with deep red wax. He holds it out, a gift and a threat rolled into one.
I take it without opening it. My fingers flex over the smooth surface. “What is this?”
“Insurance,” he says softly. “For you. For that heart he broke. A way to balance the scales.”
My jaw tightens. I hate how well he sees through me. Hate that he uses the very wound I have fought to seal shut.
But beneath the ice, a flicker of something else stirs. Opportunity. Advantage. Leverage I can wield without breaking.
“You claimed you only wanted information,” I say carefully, voice steady. “Anything outside that, count me out.”
Viktor steps closer, voice dropping, intimate and dangerous. “I want what’s owed to me. You want what was stolen from you. Our goals intersect beautifully.”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“But,” he adds, slyly, like he’s letting me in on a secret, “if you decide you want something more permanent, more…final…consider this my offer.”
I stiffen. “I’m not killing anyone.”
Viktor laughs softly, amused, almost like I’m na?ve. “Who said you had to kill him? Sometimes destruction is accomplished with ink, not bullets.”
He steps back, melting into the shadow of the car, his presence receding like a phantom.
“We’ll speak again soon.”
The engine hums to life, and the car disappears into the night, leaving me alone in the cold garden.
The envelope burns in my hand like a curse. My bravado fades, replaced by a hollow, uneasy weight. Why did I agree to this meeting?
I take a deep breath, but it does little to settle the storm rising in my chest. I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to settle the storm rising in my chest.
I shouldn’t have met him. I shouldn’t have taken this envelope.
But I did.
And now the plan I’ve nourished for years feels like a monster growing teeth. My fingers tighten around the envelope as I turn back toward the mansion. I slip it between the folds of my dress, hiding it where no one will see.
Through the tall windows, I see him. Sebastian. Laughing at something Dimitri said, hands shoved in his pockets, posture relaxed, completely unaware of the storm circling him.
Anger flares at the sight of him looking so at ease. As if he never shattered me. As if my pain is ancient history while his life marches on unbothered.
My revenge feels justified again.
Strength snakes back into my spine. I step inside carefully. The storm has returned, and it’s mine to wield.
As soon as I enter, Sebastian’s gaze finds me across the room. Something inside me tugs painfully at the sight of him—and I clamp it down immediately. No weakness. No distraction.
I turn toward the girls at the bar, letting the chatter and laughter pull me back into the role I’m meant to play. I’m just about to slide onto a stool when I feel it: a presence behind me. A hand circles my upper arm with possessive certainty.
“Come with me,” he says, low and controlled, a tone that brooks no argument.
I want to jerk free, but the last thing I need is for the girls to notice tension between us. I follow, silent, letting him lead me toward the hall.
Once we’re out of sight, I pull my arm back sharply. My nails graze his sleeve. “What now?” I demand, voice sharp.
His eyes are dark, unreadable. He tilts his head slightly, letting me feel the weight of him without touching me. “Now,” he says, each word deliberate, “you tell me why you snuck out.”
“Snuck?” I cross my arms, leveling him with a glare. “Do you always have to interrogate me the second we’re out of sight?”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break. “I’m not interrogating. I’m observing. And right now, everything about you screams…trouble.”
I lift my chin, daring him. “Maybe I like trouble.”
A twitch—annoyance, desire, something unnamable—flickers across his jaw. “Don’t test me, Sienna.” He grabs my jaw.
“Where did you go?”
“For air,” I say evenly.
“You’re lying.”
“Get used to it,” I murmur, letting the words fall between us like a challenge.
He stares at me, heat in his gaze that I refuse to acknowledge. I don’t flinch. I don’t hesitate.
I slip past him, not waiting for permission, letting my movements speak of control he cannot touch.
My heart beats steady. My mind is clear. My path is set.
Sebastian Rusnak broke me once. He doesn’t get to do it again.
When I return to the bar, the girls glance at me with concern. Their eyes follow Sebastian as he storms out of the hall, disappearing into the cluster of men by the back.
“I’m fine,” I tell them, voice even. My calmness hides the spark of triumph burning beneath my skin.
Elara winks, pressing a chilled drink into my hands. “Then drink up, Sienna. You earned it.”
I lift the glass, letting the cool liquid slide down in one long gulp. The warmth spreads immediately, a delicious buzz loosening the tension in my shoulders.
The girls clap, laughing, and I can’t help but smirk. This is my night too. For now, I own it.
The music shifts to something heavier and more pulsing. Sasha grabs my hand with a mischievous grin. “Come on, Sienna. It’s time to dance.”
I groan. “I’m not sure I want to.”
“Then you’ll miss the fun,” Elara teases, tugging me forward.
Sasha laughs, eyes glinting. “We’re going to raise the men’s blood pressure tonight. You in?”
I smirk, letting myself be swept along. “Fine. Let’s see what they’ve got.”
The girls drag me onto the dance floor. The crowd pulses around us, lights bouncing off their laughter. I move with them, hips swaying, shoulders loose, arms lifted. The energy is electric. I feel the music in my bones, every beat syncing with the fire already roaring inside me.
I catch glimpses of men scattered across the room, some watching, some trying not to. I smile inwardly. Around me, the other girls are laughing and swaying to the music.
Moments later, a few men suddenly edge closer, trying to weave themselves into our circle. One of them touches Sasha’s arm. “Come on,” one says, voice slick. “Pretty ladies, we want to feel the energy—dance with you!”
Sasha shakes her head sharply. “No, thanks. We’re good on our own.”
Before anyone can argue, a wall of muscle forms around us. Heavy boots hit the floor, and Rusnak guards descend, grabbing the men with a precision that leaves no room for protest. The would-be dancers flail and shout as they’re dragged out of the bar, wide-eyed and screaming.
I blink, stunned for a second, and then more guards flood the space, sweeping the remaining patrons toward the exits. Within minutes, the bar is ours. Empty, except for the four of us, the music, and the hum of adrenaline that crackles through the room.
I barely have time to process it before the girls are surrounded by their husbands. The men look furious—tight jaws, hard eyes, the kind of rage that promises consequences.
Roman grips Elara’s waist and murmurs something low in her ear. Lev does the same with Sasha, already steering her away. Dimitri carries Vivian off bridal style. Their laughter dies quickly as they’re pulled toward the exit. No time for goodbyes.
When I turn to leave, a hand circles my throat.
Not crushing. Not gentle either. Just firm enough to remind me exactly who’s behind me.
Warm breath ghosts my ear.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sebastian whispers.
“Dancing,” I say, even as my breath stutters. I hate that it does.
“For other men?” His voice drops further, dangerous. “Are you fucking serious?”
“What?” I try to twist out of his grip, but his hold tightens, fingers spreading along my jaw as he steers me forward. Heads turn. I keep my chin high.
“You’re my fucking wife. No one else gets to see you like that. You’re going to get someone killed. I promise you.”
“You’re insane.”
He drags me out of the bar and straight toward the waiting car. The night air slaps my skin, cold and sharp. He shoves the door open and all but throws me inside.
The door slams.
“Drive,” he barks at Marko.
The car lurches forward.