Page 54 of The Plus One Contract

Just enough.

I don’t know if Sienna knows she’s doing it, but she’s giving him nothing.

Not a flicker.

Not a tell.

Just calm, smooth composure.

I’ve spent not even two days around this woman, and I already know that’s not like her.

She exhales through her nose, her voice smooth. “I’m just happy.”

A long, stretched-out silence before Sienna’s mother says, “Sienna, sweetheart, would you set the table?”

She nods, moving past Daniel without so much as a glance.

I watch her as she leaves, and I don’t like the way something tightens in my chest when I see how determined she is not to care.

Twenty-One

Dinner starts fine.

The food is good. Better than most of the overpriced bullshit I get at investor dinners. The conversation is easy, fueled mainly by Jeremy, who’s got a knack for keeping things light.

Across from me, Grace is relaying some chaotic wedding-planning disaster, complete with herding groomsmen like feral cats, venue mishaps, and how Jeremy almost accidentally booked a live band that exclusively does heavy metal covers of Disney songs.

Sienna snorts, eyes bright with amusement. “That sounds kind of amazing.”

Jeremy groans, taking a sip of his beer. “That’s what I said! ButUnder the Sealoses its charm when it sounds like Satan himself is growling it at you.”

Grace rolls her eyes. “You also wanted a DJ with a customizable setlist.”

Jeremy shrugs. “I just think the Avengers theme would slap for our first dance.”

The energy at the table is good. Comfortable. But then, the conversation lurches into territory that makes Sienna’s shoulders stiffen.

It starts small. Jeremy jokes about how Sienna is probably working from the dinner table. Her mother picks up on it, lamenting how Sienna hasn’t been home in ages, how she’s alwaysso busy, honey.The teasing edges into mild scolding, implying Sienna’s missing out on “real life.” My hand tenses on the fork as I watch her eyes flick downward.

They love her. That much is clear. But they also don’t see how their casual remarks box her in. The more they talk about her “never settling,” the quieter she gets.

Finally, her mother sighs, swirling her wine. “You know, sweetheart, I did worry when you left. You had a stable relationship, and then, poof, you were gone.”

“Mom,” Sienna says in warning, setting down her fork. I see the flicker in her eyes, that forced, polite composure.

Her mother shrugs. I’m just saying, it’s great that you finally have a boyfriend. Maybe you can think about coming back, settling down, giving me grandbabies.”

Sienna’s cheeks warm, but she offers only a noncommittal hum, swirling her glass of water. I feel annoyance spark in my chest. It reminds me of my own mother’s criticisms, though she was less loving and more manipulative, but the effect was the same. Diminishing me, acting like I was never enough. Sienna’s mother means well, but she’s still poking at her daughter’s choices like they’re flawed.

Daniel, who’s been mostly silent, decides to chime in. “That’s always been her thing,” he says, leaning back. “Sienna never knew how to relax. I used to have to drag her out of her apartment just to do something fun.”

Lauren smiles like it’s no big deal, and it’s normal for her future husband to reminisce about his ex at a dinner table.

He laughs, and the others join him, but the tightness in Sienna’s posture grows. I hate the way he’s acting like he knows her better than anyone. I hate how her mother seems to accept it. And, in a sick twist, I recognize that the same forced acceptance used to live in my own living room, with a mother who’d let a boyfriend pick me apart to keep the peace.

Sienna smiles politely, not meeting his eyes.We can move on, folks. Nothing to see here.She’s doing what I did for years—enduring, ignoring, letting them think it doesn’t bother her. My jaw flexes.

I’m a man who excels in negotiations, but this is different. I want to defend her, want to shut them all down, but something in her gaze warns me off. Under the table, her foot nudges my leg, a silentdon’t. She’s telling me she’d rather vanish from the conversation than cause a scene.

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