Sienna Monroe stared at her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror, applying a quick swipe of coral lip tint. Her chestnut hair, normally loose in soft waves, was pinned into a low chignon that she hoped would hold through dinner. She wore a burgundy wrap dress that hugged her waist and fell just below her knees—an outfit she'd reserved for occasions requiring a blend of elegance and authority. A simple gold bracelet with a tiny sapphire charm hugged her wrist.
She pulled down the vanity lamp's shade, surveying her face: under‐eye shadows slightly too dark, lipstick slightly uneven. She caught a hint of panic in her own eyes. "Okay," she whispered. "You can do this."
She slid the mirror closed and turned to leave the bathroom. A faint knock sounded at her condo door.
"Coming," she called, smoothing a wrinkle in her dress. Lila Benne stood in the hallway, framed by the frosted glass pane. She looked dauntless in a sleek black leather jacket over a white tee and dark jeans, hair pulled into a messy bun. She carried a small tote bag with "Chic Things" embroidered on the side.
"Hey," Lila greeted, peeking in. "How do I look?"
Sienna crossed her arms, stepping aside. "Like the best‐dressed person I know. Though I may be biased."
Lila grinned and moved into the bedroom to set her bag on the dresser—a sudden clatter of pills inside a small bottle announced she'd come prepared. She then examined her own reflection in a small mirror. "I brought emergency Advil. Just in case Tyler Brooks throws any more curveballs at you tonight."
Sienna offered a rueful laugh. "You spoil me." She hooked her thumb over her shoulder toward the city lights beyond the window. "Ready?"
Lila moved to Sienna's bedside, tapped a small zip‐lock bag of lavender oil. "Here—some lavender at dinner to calm your nerves. Also, I'm texting you the Uber code for 6:30—black Escalade. I already loaded you with \$150 because I expect major surcharges tonight."
Sienna shook her head, smiling. "You are so extra." She slipped her phone into a clutch. "Thank you. Let's go."
The black Escalade idled at the curb of the Gold Coast high‐rise. Grayson Cole stood on the sidewalk, checking his phone. He wore a slim‐cut navy blazer, dark jeans, and a crisp white shirt—no tie. In his hand, a small bouquet of deep red peonies. When the Uber door opened and Sienna stepped out, he lifted the flowers and offered them.
Sienna took them, surprised. "We're past roses?" she teased.
He shrugged, tucking them under his arm. "Thought I'd keep it seasonally appropriate. Peonies win the humidity game." He tipped his head toward a gleaming black BMW parked a short distance away. "Shall we?"
Sienna followed him across the damp pavement. "You didn't have to get flowers."
He gave her a crooked smile. "Yes, I did."
They climbed into the BMW; Grayson slipped behind the wheel as the suede interior enveloped her. She glanced at the Corinthian leather seats, the small metal "Everspan" insignia on the center console. Then she caught sight of the street name on the GPS: "North Rush Street." She exhaled, feeling the city's pulse beneath them.
"Dinner's at The Cascade," Grayson said, merging onto Rush Street. "I got the waterfall table you requested."
Sienna nodded. "Thanks. I'm—" She stopped herself. "I appreciate you."
He shot her a quick look. "We agreed: no mushy tonight. Focus on food and wine." He gripped the steering wheel.
Sienna offered a small smile. "Right. No mush." She slid the peonies onto her lap, inhaling their soft fragrance. It felt…different—a gesture uncharacteristic of a business partner.
They pulled up in front of The Cascade, a modern restaurant with floor‐to‐ceiling windows and a small water feature that spilled over a tiered slate wall by the entrance. Inside, the host led them to a table recessed behind the glass wall. Behind their booth, a three‐story cascade of water descended into a serene pool below, illuminated by soft amber lights. The sound of rushing water filled the room with an almost poetic hush.
Grayson slid into the seat across from Sienna. "Here we are."
Sienna gazed at the cascade for a moment, letting its rhythmic rush wash through her nerves. She felt the tension undulate out of her shoulders. "This is beautiful."
Grayson nodded, folding the menu. "I thought you could use a calming view." He placed a single red peony in a small vase. "No business talk, right?"
She offered a playful frown. "We'll see." She bit her lip, then let it curve into a genuine smile. "Thank you."
A waiter approached, bowing. "Ms. Monroe, Mr. Cole, welcome. Can I start you with wine or something sparkling?"
Sienna glanced at Grayson, who nodded. "A bottle of your house sparkling Chardonnay, please."
The waiter jotted down their order. "Certainly." He withdrew, leaving them between the soft amber glow of the waterfall and an overhead chandelier that scattered light like stars.
There was a moment of silence. Grayson cleared his throat. "So…I've done my part. I let Alexander know you were coming tonight. He's in a private dining room to the right. I told him I'd bring you in at 8—give him an hour to size you up without interruptions."
Sienna raised an eyebrow. "So I have an hour before he tries to intimidate me?"
He nodded. "Pretty much. I wanted to give you time to—just be us, for a bit. Before we face the titan."
Her heart fluttered. "Okay. I'll need that hour." She lifted her glass when the waiter arrived with the sparkling Chardonnay. They clinked glasses in a quiet toast.
"To us," Grayson said softly.
Sienna closed her eyes and let the effervescent wine flood her mouth. "To us," she echoed.
They settled into the booth, menus abandoned. For the first time since their "marriage" began, they looked at each other without the glare of onlookers in their eyes. Instead, they shared a flicker of something more tender—an unspoken truce that, at least tonight, they would be partners in something real.
Minutes later, Lila Carter—Sienna's longtime roommate from college—slipped into the booth beside Sienna. She wore a burgundy shawl over a cream blouse, glasses perched on her nose, and a crooked grin. In one hand, she held a box of sushi she'd grabbed en route. "Hi, S. Hope it's cool I brought us lunch. I know you've been skipping meals."
Sienna's eyes widened. "Lila…this is so thoughtful." She took an avocado roll, the briny rice warming her senses. "Thank you."
Lila took her seat and nudged Sienna. "You look like you're going to meet a monarch. What's the deal?"
Grayson offered a polite nod. "Lila, this is my—er—business wife, Sienna Monroe."
Lila extended her hand with a grin. "Miles Carter, you mean?" Grayson blinked, clearly taken aback for half a second. "We're old pals." Lila winked at Sienna. "Sorry—bad joke. I meant… I'm Lila. And you must be Grayson Cole, CEO‐in‐training."
Grayson laughed, the sound warm and easy. "Close enough. Nice to officially meet you."
Lila sat back, munching on spicy tuna. "Side note: if your dad is half as cryptic as you two, I'll send you a search party in an hour."
Sienna chuckled. "You're all invited."
Lila nodded solemnly. "I've got bags of coffee beans and one‐time use mugs. We'll need caffeine for this."
Grayson folded his arms. "Fair warning: my father has a strong coffee addiction. He'll drink two cups before dinner."
Lila offered him a thumbs up. "Sounds like a plan. Dad's always—" She caught herself and slowed. "—Alexander Cole is just…business, right? Nothing personal."
Sienna exhaled, stirring her sushi with chopsticks. "Right."
Lila and Grayson settled back against the banquette. The restaurant's lights dimmed slightly, and a server emerged with a silver tray. Soft music played—a slow jazz number, alto sax mournful and soothing.
They talked about the merger, Delacroix's upcoming pop‐up in Dallas, and Lila's latest nail polish fiasco ("I painted my index fingernails teal, forgot, then went to a corporate event"). For those thirty minutes, it was just friendship and shared memories—far from contracts and boardrooms. Sienna let herself relax, showing her teeth as she laughed at Lila's stories.
Then, at 7:50 PM, Grayson glanced at his watch. "Time to go brave the lion's den." He rose, reaching for Sienna's hand.
Lila watched them, eyebrows raised. "Have fun cowering before the king." She winked. "Call me later, okay? I'll be up."
Sienna nodded, then turned to Grayson. "You sure you don't mind?"
He squeezed her hand. "Let's do this."
They left the sky lounge hand in hand, descending to the private dining level where an ornate mahogany door stood between them and Alexander Cole's private room. Grayson took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, and pressed the doorbell.
Both paused, and Sienna stared at the dark oak paneling. She felt a tremor in her stomach but remembered her steel‐edged resolve. Inhale. Exhale.
The door swung open. Alexander Cole stood there, tall and imposing in a tailored charcoal suit, silver pocket watch chain glinting. His salt‐and‐pepper hair was slicked back, eyes sharp as flint.
He studied Sienna for a second, expression inscrutable. Then he offered a tight nod. "Ms. Monroe," he said, voice low. "So good of you to join us."
Sienna stepped forward, head held high. "Mr. Cole."
Alexander moved aside to let them pass. As they entered, Sienna smelled cedar polish and the faintest trace of Grayson's cologne—sandalwood and musk. She straightened her spine. Whatever came next, she would be ready.