33. Sienna #2
I went because I had to survive the rest of the drive. He drew me back against his chest and kissed the top of my head. I lay there with my cheek pressed to him, listening to his heart, while the photo burned behind my eyes.
Had he wanted one last time?
One last humiliation.
Maybe he had decided to see whether the foolish little Bellemere would still melt for him even after the paperwork had moved on. Had he wanted to prove he could have me even once I was no longer his to take.
No.
I wouldn’t cry in his car.
I wouldn’t give him that too.
The convoy reached the Bellemere Harlan estate just before sunset. The gates opened for us in a smooth iron sweep. My home, at least for however long the documents allowed me to keep using that word.
Jamison’s car stopped at the front steps. He helped me out.
“I’ll be back at seven,” he said, one hand at my waist. “Dinner first. Then my house.”
I looked up at him and smiled because my face still knew how. “Seven.”
He bent and kissed me.
I let him.
The kiss was deep enough that one of the footmen looked away. Jamison’s hand slid to the side of my neck, his thumb brushing beneath my jaw the way he had learned made me soften.
When he drew back, his eyes searched mine. “Rest before then.”
“I will.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
Another lie.
His mouth tightened as if he didn’t trust me, but his phone rang again. He glanced at it, then back at me with visible frustration.
“I’ll see you at seven.”
I nodded.
He kissed my forehead, got into the car, and left.
I watched the convoy pull away from the house. Black cars through Bellemere gates. The iron closed after them. Only when the last car vanished did I turn toward the house.
Inside, the foyer was full of flowers from the retreat return. White lilies. Pale roses. Greenery climbing the banister as if the estate had dressed itself for something happy. My mother was near the drawing room doors.
“Sienna, darling, you’re back. How was the drive?”
I looked at her.
She knew.
The thought came with such certainty that my hands went cold again. My father in his study, surely. Adrian maybe. Julian. Sabine. Everyone who had hugged me goodbye. Everyone who had smiled while I climbed into Jamison’s car.
“Sienna?” my mother asked.
“I’m tired.”
Her expression shifted. “Of course, darling. Go up and rest. We can talk after you’ve settled.”
Talk.
So they had planned that too. A gentle talk after the drive. Another room where everyone knew what my life was before I arrived.
I nodded and walked upstairs.
No one followed.
Maybe they were cowards. They thought waiting would be kinder.
My room looked exactly as I had left it.
I closed the door.
Locked it.
Then I broke.
It happened silently at first. One hand over my mouth.
Phone clutched in the other. I opened the document again because some destroyed part of me needed to make sure I had read it right.
The token ring on my finger blurred until the diamond became only light.
I pulled at it once, too hard. It caught at my knuckle.
A sob broke out of my chest.
I sank onto the floor beside the bed, knees drawn up, one hand pressed over my mouth so no one outside could hear. I thought of his hands on me. His voice. Baby. Daddy’s home. My wife. My house tonight.
Had he practiced cruelty until it sounded like love?
My phone began vibrating.
Jamison.
I watched his name appear.
Then disappear.
Then appear again.
I did not answer.
Messages followed.
Jamison: You resting?
Jamison: Baby?
Jamison: Answer me.
Jamison: Sienna.
Another call.
I turned the phone face down on the carpet.
The sky outside shifted from gold to blue to deep Harlan black. At some point someone knocked gently.
“Sienna?” my mother called.
I wiped my face and did not answer.
“Sienna, darling, dinner is at seven. Mr. Crow—”
“Go away.”
Silence.
Then her footsteps withdrew. My phone rang again at six fifty-eight.
Jamison.
I stared at it until the sound became unbearable.
Then I answered.
“Where are you?” he asked immediately. “I’m at the gates. They won’t open.”
My laugh sounded strange. “Good.”
Silence hit the line.
“Sienna.”
“Go home.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t come in.”
“I’m already here.”
“Then leave.”
His voice lowered. “Open the gates.”
“No.”
“Baby, if this is because you’re sore or tired, I can carry you to the car. We don’t have to do dinner. We’ll go straight to my house.”
The words landed like a slap.
“It’s over,” I said. The line went so quiet I could hear my own breathing.
“What did you say?”
“It’s over.”
“No.”
My hand tightened around the phone. “You don’t get to say no.”
“Talk to me.”
“I never want to see you again.”
His breath changed. I closed my eyes because hearing it hurt, and I hated myself for still noticing.
“Sienna,” he said, quieter, dangerous in a way that might have frightened me yesterday. “Open the gates.”
“No.”
“Tell me what happened.”
I stood, because sitting on the floor made me feel too small. “I saw Veil.”
“What did you see?”
“Celeste.”
Silence. That was all the confirmation I needed. I laughed once, broken and sharp.
“You knew.”
“Sienna—”
“You knew the whole retreat.”
“Let me explain.”
“No.”
“Baby—”
“Do not call me that.”
The words tore out of me louder than I meant them to. My hand shook so badly I had to press it against my stomach.
He went silent again.
I could imagine him outside the gates, black car idling, Reeves somewhere nearby, Harlan bending around his anger because Harlan always did. For years, I had wanted him to come back for me. Now he was outside, and all I wanted was iron between us.
“You stood beside Celeste at Veyr House,” I said. “My family sent documents releasing me. You knew, and then you came to House Alder. You kissed me. You touched me. You let me think—”
“Sienna, listen to me. It isn’t what you think.”
“It is exactly what I think. You wanted to humiliate me one last time.”
“No.”
“You got bored of ignoring me, so you tried something crueler.”
“No.”
“You made me believe you wanted me.”
“I do want you.”
“You are engaged to Celeste.”
“I am not marrying Celeste.”
“The documents say I’m released.”
“The documents are wrong.”
“Documents are never wrong in our families.”
“That’s not true.”
“It has been true my entire life.”
He breathed hard into the phone. “Open the gates, and I’ll fix this.”
I stared at my reflection in the dark window. Token ring still on my finger, mocking me with every bit of light it caught.
“Sienna.”
“I mean it. Leave me alone. I never want to see you again, and I’ll make sure I don’t.”
He spoke after a long moment. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“No, baby, you don’t.”
My anger came alive then. Hot, bright, easier than grief. “Stop calling me baby while you’re engaged to my cousin.”
“I am not engaged to your cousin.”
Then I hung up.
The phone rang before the screen even settled.
Jamison.
I let it ring.
A message appeared.
Jamison: Open the gates.
Jamison: Sienna, answer me.
Jamison: I should have told you. I was going to. You need the whole truth.
I stared at that one until my eyes burned. He was going to. The anthem of every man who arrived after the wound.
Another call.
Jamison: Baby, do not do this through a gate.
Jamison: Let me see you.
He did not leave the gates. At first I thought he would. Anger had always been his cleanest language. He would order, threaten, wait one minute longer than his patience allowed, and then punish someone for the inconvenience of being refused. But the car stayed outside the Bellemere estate.
I saw it from my bathroom window. My phone lay on the marble beside the sink, lighting up over and over while I sat on the floor in my dress with my knees drawn to my chest.
Jamison: Sienna, answer me.
Jamison: Baby, I’m still at the gates.
Jamison: Your father is about to learn how little I enjoy being delayed.
Jamison: Tell Adrian to stop screening calls.
Jamison: I will burn through every polite layer of this house if that is what it takes.
Jamison: I should have told you.
Jamison: Let me in.
Jamison: Please.
Jamison Crow had spent three years making silence out of me, and now he was learning how it sounded when it belonged to him. Another call filled the screen.
I watched his name pulse through my tears.
It stopped.
Then started again.
I tried to breathe quietly, which was ridiculous because no one could hear me over the thickness of the bathroom door. Still, my body remembered every lesson. Break privately, and return pretty.
Another message.
Jamison: I fixed it.
I picked up the phone.
The next call arrived while it was still in my palm. For one long second, I stared at his name. The screen blurred, cleared, blurred again. I could see the reflection of myself in the black spaces around the letters. This time I answered.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I fixed it.”
His words came too fast, rough at the edges. Behind him, I heard a car engine idling, then a door closing, then Reeves saying something too low for me to make out.
“Fixed what?”
“Everything. The paperwork. The merger. The bride designation. It’s handled.”
I laughed, but the sound came out broken. “How efficient.”
“Sienna, listen to me. You are mine. We are getting married. I was never marrying Celeste.”
The bathroom tilted for a second.
I closed my eyes and held the phone tighter. “Prove it.”
“I am trying to.”
“No.” I opened my eyes and stared at the little gold handle on the bathroom cabinet because it was easier than staring at myself. “Prove it properly. If I’m yours, marry me this weekend.”
Silence.
A horrible calm spread through me. I knew before he answered.
“Sienna.”
“That’s the answer, then.”
“I can’t do it this weekend.”
“Because Celeste’s name is on the paperwork.”
“It’s a formality.”
“A formality that stands between you and a wedding.”
“It stands between us and a rushed ceremony arranged while you’re upset.”
I almost laughed again. “Don’t make it sound as if you’re being thoughtful.”
“I am being honest. We need the restored merger signed, then everything goes back where it belongs.”
“Signed,” I repeated.