Page 1 of Arranged with Twins
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Sienna
The Mandarin Oriental’s grand ballroom transforms Manhattan’s elite into a glittering chess set tonight, and I’m the piece everyone’s watching. New York’s most powerful families sip champagne and pretend this merger isn’t exactly what it is.
A business transaction dressed in silk and pearls.
I straighten my spine, shoulders back, the way my mother, Katherine, taught me since I could walk. The Valentino gown she chose fits like armor and is midnight blue with silver threading. Every detail has been thought out, and every angle will be photographed.
Sienna Cooper isn’t with us tonight. I’m an investment portfolio in couture.
Mother murmurs beside me, her voice carrying that familiar edge of command wrapped in honey. “Remember, darling, this alliance saves everything. The company, our reputation, and ourlegacy.” Her manicured fingers brush my elbow, a gesture that looks maternal to the cameras while carrying the force of a strict manager. “Vincent has worked too hard to let it all crumble now.”
Yeah, he’s worked hard to ruin my fucking life…
Father stands to my other side, his tuxedo impeccable. I catch the slight tremor in his hands when he lifts his glass. The stress lines around his eyes have deepened over the past six months, carved deeper by whatever financial catastrophe he’s been shielding me from. His empire built on three generations of careful expansion now hangs by threads I’m apparently supposed to weave back together.
He's traded my life for the longevity of the empire, and I’m not sure I’m down for it.
“The Denisovs understand loyalty.” His voice pitches low enough that only Mother and I can hear. “This treaty benefits everyone involved. It’s what civilized families do.”
Civilized. I resist the urge to snort. There’s nothing civilized about bartering your daughter’s freedom to save your reputation, yet I learned years ago that pointing out such inconvenient truths only earns disappointed sighs and lectures about family obligation.
Too many rules. One would think criminals don’t have to follow rules.
The crowd shifts, and I get my first clear look at Leonid Denisov in fifteen years. The gangly teenager who once lived in our guest wing has vanished, replaced by something altogether more dangerous. He’s taller than I remember, well over six feet, with shoulders that fill his custom-tailored jacket. He hasdark hair swept back from sharp features, and I remember those same piercing blue eyes that used to watch everything from the corners of rooms. They’re changed too though, having become harder and more jaded. Everything about him screams “guarded.”
Where the boy was cautious, the man commands. Conversations pause when he passes. Heads turn. He moves through the space like he owns it, which in many ways, he does.
He looks at me across the room and something electric shoots down my spine. He studies me with the same intensity he once brought to chess games in Father’s study, like I’m just another game he wants to win.
That stare makes me want to either run or stand taller.
I choose the latter.
Mother’s voice carries notes of satisfaction and relief. “There he is. Leonid Denisov is even more impressive than the photographs, wouldn’t you say?”
I wouldn’t know. I’ve avoided looking at any photographs and avoided thinking about this night for as long as possible. My sole memories of him were of the teenage version. Now that he’s here, moving toward us with purposeful strides, I can’t look away.
People create a natural corridor for his approach. This isn’t about respect but fear. These people know exactly who Leo Denisov is and what he represents. The legitimate businessman façade doesn’t fool anyone in this room.
His voice carries a slight accent, softened by years in American schools while still audible in the way he shapes certain syllables.“Vincent.” He extends his hand to Father as he arrives, who clasps it with both of his.
His gratitude and desperation are poorly disguised as warmth, and his smile looks strained around the edges. “Leonid, thank you for coming, and… for all of this. I think you remember Katherine?”
Leo turns to my mother, bending slightly over her offered hand in a gesture that’s somehow both respectful and dismissive. “Mrs. Cooper, you look radiant.”
Katherine practically glows under the attention. “Such a charmer. This is our daughter, Sienna.”
Now those blue eyes focus entirely on me. The sensation is like being caught under stage lights. He doesn’t offer his hand immediately as he studies my face with an intensity that makes heat creep up my neck. Finally, he extends his hand, palm up.
“Sienna.” The way he says my name sounds different than when others do. It’s somehow more deliberate, like he’s testing how it fits in his mouth. “You’ve grown up.”
I place my hand in his, and his fingers close around mine with careful pressure. His skin is warm and callused in unexpected places. When he brushes his thumb over my knuckles, something flutters low in my stomach.
An evil man shouldn’t be this beautiful.
“So have you. We both had to eventually.” I’m proud of how composed I sound, because it doesn’t match how I feel.
