Sienna wasn't sure what possessed her to touch him.
Maybe it was the raw honesty in Damien's voice. The rare glimpse of vulnerability he had just revealed. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her—like he was searching for something he wasn't sure he deserved to find.
But the moment her fingers brushed against his, she felt it.
The heat. The tension. The undeniable pull between them.
Damien didn't move.
His eyes flicked down to their joined hands, his jaw tightening as if he were battling some internal war.
Then, slowly, deliberately, his fingers curled around hers.
Sienna's breath hitched.
It was such a simple thing, but it wasn't simple at all.
Her pulse pounded as the car door opened, breaking the moment.
"We're here, sir," the driver announced.
Damien hesitated for half a second before finally letting go.
The cool air rushed between them as he stepped out first, straightening his suit like he was putting his armor back on.
Sienna followed, her mind still spinning from what had just happened.
Neither of them spoke as they entered the penthouse.
The city skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a breathtaking view that should have distracted her.
But all she could focus on was him.
The way his shoulders tensed. The way he loosened his tie like it was suffocating him.
The way he turned to her—eyes dark, unreadable.
Something in the air shifted.
Heavy. Charged. Dangerous.
Sienna swallowed hard. "Damien, about what you said in the car—"
"Forget it." His voice was rough, strained. "It doesn't matter."
But it did.
And they both knew it.
Sienna took a step closer. "You can't just pretend—"
He moved before she could finish.
One second, there was space between them. The next, she was backed against the wall, caged by the heat of his body.
Her breath caught as his hand came up, fingers brushing against her cheek before trailing down her jaw.
She should have pushed him away.
Should have reminded him—and herself—that this was all pretend.
But the moment his thumb brushed over her bottom lip, she was lost.
"Tell me to stop," Damien murmured.
Sienna's lips parted, but no words came out.
Because she didn't want him to stop.
Her silence was all the answer he needed.
Damien swore under his breath before closing the space between them.
His lips crashed against hers—hot, demanding, devastating.
Sienna gasped, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss with a hunger that sent fire racing through her veins.
Her hands found his shirt, gripping the fabric as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.
But she wasn't grounded.
She was falling.
Falling into something she wasn't supposed to want.
Damien groaned against her mouth, pressing closer, as if he needed to feel every inch of her.
The sheer intensity of it all made her head spin.
She had kissed before. But not like this.
Not like she would die if she stopped.
Not like it was the only real thing in a world full of lies.
But then, as suddenly as it started, Damien pulled away.
His breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against hers.
Sienna's heart pounded.
"Damien…" she whispered, still dazed.
His grip on her waist tightened for a fraction of a second—then he let go.
"This…" His voice was rough, like he was struggling to find control. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
Sienna's chest tightened. "I know."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "We need to stop before—"
Before what?
Before this became real?
Before they crossed a line they could never uncross?
But hadn't they already?
The weight of it pressed between them, heavy and undeniable.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Damien took a step back, his mask slipping back into place.
"You should get some rest." His voice was cool, distant. "Goodnight, Sienna."
And just like that, the moment was gone.
But the damage was already done.
Because Sienna knew, deep in her bones, that nothing between them would ever be the same again.