The ride home from the gala was silent, but not the comfortable kind.
Sienna sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes fixed on the blur of streetlights outside the window. Damien sat beside her, tense, jaw clenched, one hand on the steering wheel and the other drumming against his thigh.
She could still feel the weight of his fingers at the small of her back from earlier, the way he'd touched her with both possession and protection when the cameras came too close. But now… now the air between them was thick with unspoken things.
Damien hadn't said a word since that phone call. The one he'd taken behind the marble columns of the event hall, his face darkening as he spoke in hushed tones. She didn't ask who it was. Didn't need to. She knew.
"Are we going to talk about it?" she asked finally, her voice breaking through the heavy silence.
Damien's fingers stilled. "Talk about what?"
She turned to face him. "Whatever that call was. Whatever's got you acting like you're about to snap someone's neck."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. "That call was from my team. The story that leaked? It's spreading. Fast. Someone fed the tabloids high-res images and background information."
Her stomach twisted. "So they knew where to look."
He nodded. "And that it wasn't just a publicity stunt. They knew your name. Your job. Your past relationship."
Her breath caught. "You think Ethan leaked it?"
Damien didn't answer right away. "I think it's suspicious timing."
"We already saw him—he came to your house. And to that event with your ex, remember? He's not exactly lurking in the shadows."
"Which makes him perfect cover," Damien said coldly. "He gets to play concerned ex while feeding intel to the press."
Sienna bristled. "He wouldn't do that."
"You sure?"
The car pulled into the underground garage. As soon as they stepped into the elevator, the tension closed in tighter around them. Neither spoke until they reached the penthouse.
Inside, Damien tossed his jacket onto the couch and poured himself a drink. He didn't offer her one.
Sienna leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed. "I get that you're angry. But if you keep accusing everyone around me of betrayal, this fake engagement won't survive the week."
Damien turned slowly, the glass in his hand catching the light. "Who said it's fake anymore?"
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"You've been living here. Sleeping in my bed. Kissing me in front of the media like you mean it." His voice was low, intense. "Don't tell me this is still pretend."
Sienna's breath caught. The worst part? She wasn't sure anymore.
But before she could say a word, her phone buzzed on the counter. One look at the screen, and her heart dropped.
Ethan. Again.
Damien saw the name before she could flip the phone over.
"Seriously?" he muttered.
"I didn't ask him to call."
"And yet here we are."
"I'll handle it," she snapped and picked up.
"Hey," Ethan said, voice strained. "I've been trying to reach you."
"I know. I've been busy."
There was a pause. "Is he there?"
Sienna glanced at Damien. He was watching her like a hawk, glass still in hand.
"Yes."
Another pause. "I didn't come to that party to start trouble."
"You showed up with his ex."
"That wasn't my idea," Ethan replied. "Claire reached out to me. Said she needed a 'plus one' to make Damien jealous. I figured it was a chance to talk to you—make sure you're okay."
She closed her eyes. "You could've called. Or texted. Or literally anything other than crashing a high-profile event."
"I needed to see you," Ethan said. "I'm worried, Sienna."
"You don't get to be worried anymore."
There was a beat of silence, then a sigh. "Look, I know we ended things badly. And maybe I deserve your silence. But I still care. And I know Damien Sinclair. He's not the kind of man who does anything without a motive."
Her chest tightened.
Ethan continued, voice quiet. "Whatever this is between you two—it's not you. You hated people like him. Cold. Calculated. You used to say you'd never be anyone's puppet."
Damien, across the room, stiffened. Sienna could tell he was hearing every word.
"Good night, Ethan," she said and ended the call.
She stared at her phone for a second before setting it down, her fingers trembling.
"Well," Damien said slowly, "that was charming."
Sienna turned to face him. "He was just worried."
"He was trying to twist your mind."
"He's not a villain."
"Neither am I," Damien said, voice like steel. "But somehow I'm the one who's being painted as the manipulative bastard."
Sienna sighed, her exhaustion catching up with her. "Can we not do this right now?"
Damien nodded once and turned away, walking toward the study.
Before he disappeared inside, he said over his shoulder, "You need to decide who you believe, Sienna. Him or me."
And then he was gone.