They didn't expect to be seen.
That was the first mistake.
Their nights were fire. Their mornings were quiet domestic rituals—coffee, eye contact, soft kisses against collarbones. He'd started reading in bed while she traced her fingers over his chest. She began painting again, each brushstroke echoing a man she couldn't get out of her blood.
But passion has a pulse.
And the world always listens for it.
The event was supposed to be nothing.
An art gala.
One of Sienna's clients had insisted. Luca agreed to come, not as her "plus one," but as himself. The billionaire with impeccable taste and a reputation for mystery.
They didn't walk in holding hands.
But their chemistry entered the room before they did.
Whispers followed them down the marble hall.
She wore red satin that clung to every curve. No bra. Just confidence and a dangerous glint in her eye. He wore a suit so black it seemed to drink the light—and when he looked at her across the room, it was clear she still belonged to him, even in public.
Then came her.
Dahlia.
Tall. Bronze skin. Glacial.
The kind of woman who smiled with her teeth and never blinked.
"Luca," she purred, gliding up to him like she hadn't once nearly destroyed him. "I see you've found someone new to ruin."
Sienna turned at the voice.
Luca's body tensed.
"Dahlia," he said coolly. "Didn't expect to see you out from under your therapist."
Dahlia laughed. "Still sharp. Still charming. Still pretending you're not the man who taught me what fear tasted like in a bedroom."
The air between them froze.
Sienna didn't flinch.
But her hand curled into a fist at her side.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice level. "Are we doing cryptic ex talk or just straight-up slander tonight?"
Dahlia's eyes flicked to her. Calculated.
"I just think women should know what they're submitting to. Some men don't deserve obedience. They deserve an investigation."
That did it.
Sienna stepped closer, every inch of her commanding.
"I submit to no man out of ignorance," she said softly. "I do it because I know who I am—and because the man I'm with doesn't take. He invites. And I say yes."
Luca's breath caught.
Dahlia smirked. "We'll see how long that yes lasts when his past starts looking more like your future."
And then she vanished into the crowd.
They didn't speak on the drive home.
Luca's jaw was tight. Sienna's hand rested in her lap, steady, though her pulse thundered.
Inside the penthouse, she turned to him.
"Tell me the truth."
He didn't move.
"She wasn't lying," he said. "She wasn't entirely wrong either. She wanted darkness. I gave it. Then she punished me for it. She told me she wanted to be broken. Until she realized it was herself she was afraid of."
Sienna walked to him. "Did you ever hurt her?"
He looked her dead in the eye.
"No. Not once. But she needed me to be the villain so she wouldn't have to face what she asked for."
Sienna studied him.
"Is that what you think I'll do?"
"I think it's what I'm afraid of."
Her voice dropped.
"Then stop waiting for me to run. Stop treating me like I'm something fragile."
"I treat you like you matter."
"Then fight for me. Not just in bed. Out here. Where people whisper. Where people twist things."
Silence.
Then—his hands were on her face.
And his voice cracked.
"I don't know how to protect you from me."
She leaned into his palms.
"You don't need to protect me," she whispered. "You just need to stand with me."
That night, they didn't have sex.
They just held each other.
Clothes on.
Heartbeats loud.
The tension wasn't erotic.
It was real.
And somewhere in the middle of the night, Luca whispered against her hair:
"She won't be the thing that breaks us."
And Sienna answered with the only truth that mattered:
"She's not the only one with a past."