Page 74 of Bride on the Dotted Line

Mason hummed. “What is that, a hundred dollars for me?”

“Fifty.”

“Pretty sure it was at least seventy-five.”

I giggled wetly. “You two have to start writing this stuff down.”

“Why?” I could hear the smile in Mason’s voice. “Arguing about it is half the fun.”

“We love you, Sienna,” Lena said, and my chest warmed despite the tears wetting my shirt. “Whatever you decide to do, we’ve got your back.”

“I love you, too.”

Now, in my basement suite, I sink onto my lumpy couch with my head in my hands. There are pillows on the floor, clothes thrown everywhere. I’ve been home for half an hour, and I’ve already made a mess of the place.

There’s a metaphor there, somewhere.

My mind flashes to the morning before I met Nick. I’d gotten ready in the bathroom over there, picked an outfit from my closet. Listened to my Bad Bitch playlist, scrunched curl cream into the ends of my hair. Looked at myself in the mirror and smiled, sure I’d be securing ten million dollars.

I can still feel the woman I was then; the woman that lived here, in this basement. She had desperation, and drive, and the sharpest teeth in the business. She went to Café de Mario to meet Nick with hope and confidence. She didn’t care what any billionaire playboy thought of her.

I’m sure I can find that Sienna again. But something will always be changed after Nick, after losing him. Something will always be broken.

My phone buzzes.

Nick

If I hypothetically showed up at your house, how would I get to the door of your suite without getting my leg bitten off?

The words stare at me. I raise an eyebrow. I haven’t answered any of his previous texts—I should answer at least one, so he knows I’m alive, even if this message is completely baffling.

What would it hurt, at this point? I type a reply with numb thumbs.

Sienna

What are you talking about?

Nick

The monster standing on your doormat. It’s orange and tiny and looks like it wants to pick the flesh off my bones.

Lightning jolts down my spine.Orange monster.Mrs. Martin’s cat. Henry had been prowling around when I brought my suitcases in earlier. Which means that Nick …

I jump to my feet, pulse pounding. I’m almost afraid of my heart’s reaction to the possibility of Nick beinghere, at my home, only a few steps away. Rushing to the window, I pull the curtain aside and peer out.

He isn’t standing at the top of the steps, like I thought he’d be. He’s crouched near the entrance of my suite, petting the cat weaving between his feet. Henry bumps Nick’s ankles with the top of his head. The sound of purring floats through the cracked-open window, as well as Nick’s soft voice.

“You’re not a bad cat, are you?” he says, ruffling the fur at the base of Henry’s chin. Henry closes his eyes in cat bliss. “You’re just misunderstood.”

I step back from the window and take a shaky breath.

Does Nick know what coming here means? It’s a direct violation of Victor Harwood’s orders. If there were a contract left to destroy, this would send everything up in smoke. It still could. What about Harwood Restaurant Group?

I’m still fighting with myself when he knocks at the door.

“Sienna?”

Panicking, I smooth the front of my hoodie with one hand and fluff the roots of my hair with the other. As if that’s going to help.

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