I watch her fix her makeup in the mirror of the office's adjoining bathroom. Not that there's much to fix; the only thing smudged is her lipstick, and I personally love how that looks on her, but she insisted.

I'm not complaining, though. I can watch her do anything and everything all day and love every moment. Even the most mundane things, like fixing the pins in her hair as she is right now, make me want to damn it all to hell and take her again.

But, of course, even though she might approve in the moment, she won't be happy afterwards. I'm many things, but I'm not a man who takes advantage of that, as prepossessing and irresistible as Sienna is. Besides, we're on a mission here.

"There," she says as she caps her lipstick and hands me her things. "All done. You ready?"

I hold my smile as I put them away, soaking her in. This woman, this fucking empress among mortals should never feel the need to bend to anyone as she had earlier. Just fucking look at her; look at the power she has over me; look how easy it is for her to make me want to be nowhere else but with her, on top of her, inside her.

"Come here," I pull her into my arms and kiss her temple.

"Elijah," she puts her head on my shoulder. "We can't stay much longer."

"I know," I look in the mirror at her in my arms. She meets my eyes in the reflection, her smile almost making my knees give out.

A part of me still can't believe that after all this time we're finally here. I knew I lost my mind the moment I met her and that my days were numbered if we remained on opposing sides of our world. I knew I'd tear the whole fucking universe apart if it meant getting her to be right where she is now, on top of the world with me, ready to send them all to hell.

"I love you," I tell her.

She rubs her head against my shoulder like a cat settling into bed. "I love you too."

 ━━▲━━ 

We take the double staircase down. Judging by some looks and whispers, many of the rabble have guessed what we've been doing. Good. It only brightens my day; especially when I see Vasilios glaring from his booth.

"That's Gio with my father," Sienna tells me. She doesn't mean the fat one, that's Pegleg Pete. The other one is a middle-aged balding Italian with a receding widow's peak, wrinkled skin like leather, and a sniffle.

"Valerie's old man, right?" I say. My brothers and I knew of him but hadn't seen him before.

"As you can see, she doesn't get her looks from him," Sienna says.

"Is her mother around?"

"She usually tags along, though you'll find her as far away from her husband as she can be."

"Can't imagine why," I say dryly as Gio approaches a woman in a pink dress who looks the same age as his daughter.

Not all the people we come across are this disgusting, though. Some of my people are here, and Sienna has plenty of hers around, too. One of them is Lorenzo Bernardi, the owner of Bella Luna.

"Pleasure to meet you," I say, shaking his hand when Sienna introduces us. "My brother tells me great things about your food. The wagyu, specifically."

"Oh, am I glad to hear it, Mister Adler," he says, smiling. "You stop by and try it, and send Mister Yeun my thanks, eh?"

I let out a genuine chuckle at that. The Bella Luna is a Michelin-star restaurant, one of the best and most prestigious in the country, and its owner is a friendly chubby Italian grandpa who just can't get formal etiquette right.

"I'd like that," I smile. "I think you, my brothers, and I will make good friends."

"I have no doubt," he says, stepping back for a lady to pass through and bumping into a security guard standing at the wall. "Ah, shit, my bad, excuse me."

The man grunts, but I see the tiniest flicker of amusement on his face. It doesn't surprise me; he's Travis, one of Kaen's bodyguards who visited Bella Luna with him and Sienna. He's seen what that place is like and I have no doubt he didn't expect the owner to be this friendly.

"Lorenzo is a national treasure," Sienna says as we leave him with other company. "Val, Imari, and I would pray he'd adopt us when we were children."

Her eyes go distant for a moment, but she brings them back with a sigh. "Anyway, you'll love it there."

I want to comfort her, but I can tell she doesn't want to hear it. So I let it go as we mingle with more people, friendly and otherwise.

Something happened to Sienna after she confronted her father. Something—I don't know what—was clearly pressing on her, feeding her insecurities which I have never before seen. Maybe it was the people, maybe it was how her father expected her to behave with them, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, standing up to that decaying piece of shit brought back the Sienna I fell in love with, and I'm not complaining.

I don't know if I helped, but I like to think I did. I like to think it's what pushed her to drop the L bomb first, which I never in a million years thought would happen. I still hear those words in my head, spoken with a voice like smoke in its arousal.

'I love you so fucking much it hurts.'

I feel myself smile at the memory. If she only knew how long I'd dreamed of hearing that.

That Danielle is still here, and she catches my smile. Misinterpreting it, she smiles at me, and approaches.

"Hey guys," she says, voice louder and friendlier than before, skin slightly flushed. She'd had a few drinks, clearly, but she's not drunk yet. I wouldn't blame her if she was, but doing it here is more than stupid. "Where have you disappeared to?"

She's talking to both of us, but looking only at me, eyes leaving little room for guessing as to her intentions. She doesn't know I own the bank that bought her out; I'm like Sienna in that regard, some businesses I choose to stay in the shadows of. It's useful in cases like this. To be honest, I thought she'd be smart enough and leave after that. But she went the transparently desperate route of getting in bed with me instead. What a shame.

"Just taking care of private matters," I say, bringing Sienna close by her waist for emphasis.

Her eyes flash to Sienna for a moment and she straightens.

"Elijah, can I talk to you for a second?" she says.

"We are talking."

"I meant alone. Please?"

I cock my head. "Whatever you want to say to me, Danielle, you can say in front of Sienna."

Her jaw sets as she scowls. Sienna purses her lips in an attempt to hide a smile.

Of course she's not as overt with her advances now that she's lost her leverage. I wasn't born yesterday, I know exactly what people like Danielle want and I'm used to it. I've given in to women like her before, though it never went beyond a quick fuck. Maybe in another life, one where Sienna doesn't exist, it would've happened here too. But her one mistake is assuming I have eyes for anyone but the woman beside me. And offering her so-called support in exchange for me, as if I'm a trout at a fish market? Don't make me laugh. It's pathetic.

"Fine," she says. "I need help."

"Do you?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Someone—" she lowers her voice. "Someone is trying to buy me out, okay?"

Sienna frowns. "I thought you own everything."

"Yeah, so did I," Danielle turns to her. "Look, I can't give you my support if I don't have anything to give, right? You're losing here, too. I need you. Please."

Sienna raises her eyebrows and blinks. "Begging now, are we? That's beneath you, Danielle."

Danielle's eyes meet mine again, their desperation as transparent as a glass window. "I'll be left with nothing, guys. Seriously."

"That's not true," I say, like I'd care even if it was. "Didn't you mention inheriting things in Paris?"

"Yes, but—"

"So move to Paris," I deadpan, sick of this song and dance.

She closes her mouth and gives me what I assume is her best approximation of puppy dog eyes. I don't know if it's her way of making me feel sorry for her, but it works about as well as oil mixing with water.

"Or," Sienna says, stepping closer to her. "Maybe go find someone who will supplement you for a—what did you call it?—a good fuck. Just not this one. He's spoken for."

I watch Danielle's face morph into a scowl as Sienna leads me away from her.

"You," I round on Sienna, stopping her in her tracks. "Are ruthless."

As she lifts an eyebrow, I bring her close. "And I love that about you."

"You should get more broads to try and take advantage of you, then," she says, smirking. "See just how ruthless I can be."

Looking past her, I see someone watching us. "That goes both ways."

Following my gaze, Sienna scoffs.

"That's John Brady," she turns back to me, palm out. "Tyler's dad. Can I have my phone, please?"

"That pussy who thought you'd buy his declaration of undying love?" I give it to her. "Could've fooled me."

I've heard of the Bradys; few people haven't. John is what I expected one of them to look like; a man in his middle years who looks like he's in his early thirties. Well-built, square jaw, well-groomed hair and beard, iron in his eyes; someone your average Joe wouldn't want to fuck with. His son, on the other hand, looks like a strong enough gust of wind would knock him over.

Still, they're the wealthiest in these circles outside of us and Vasilios and they know it. It makes sense that they decided to throw their lots in with Sienna, probably planning to help her take everything Vasilios has and have Whatshisface marry into her wealth. Like that would ever fucking happen while my brothers and I still breathe, not to mention Valerie. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or however that phrase goes.

"Tyler's a spoiled brat," she says, tapping away. "Everything Suzanne said about me earlier? It applies to him. His father lived in Singapore for most of his life while his mother stayed with him here and raised him like her little princeling."

"What made John come back?"

She glances at me before continuing her tapping. "How much have you heard of what Tyler told me?"

"I caught that whole monologue," my eyebrow goes up. "Something about him fucking it up with you."

"Yeah," she sighs. "He wasn't wrong about that. He did fuck up. Badly enough that his daddy had to bring him back to Singapore because he was scared my father would retaliate. Like he'd give a shit."

She shakes her head with a glance at the fucker in question before continuing. "Anyways, that was years ago. I bet word of my and my father's feud reached him and, well, John's always been an opportunist."

I nod. "I figured out the rest."

"I knew you would," she smiles, not looking away from her screen. "But there's one thing that's very interesting."

"Which is?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but John isn't Singaporean, his wife is. Yet he's the one who lives there."

I cock my head. "As far as I know, he has a real estate business there, no? It makes sense."

"Mhm..." she drawls like she disagrees.

My eyes narrow. "What are you thinking?"

She glances his way and locks her phone. "You'll see."

Following her gaze, I see him approach.

"Sienna," he says, palm extended. "It's good to see you here, my dear."

"You too, John," she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes as he gives her a loose hug. "This is Elijah Adler. Elijah, John Brady."

"Pleased to meet you, Mister Adler," he shakes my hand. Firm. "I've heard many things."

"Likewise," I twist the corners of my mouth upward.

"It's been too long," Sienna tells him. "How has Singapore been treating you?"

"Oh, wonderfully, but there's no place like home. The freedom, the people," he puts a hand to the side of his mouth and leans forward. "The lack of cameras everywhere, if you know what I mean."

Sienna nods. "Your wife."

"Pardon?"

"Your wife," she smiles. "She's another plus of home, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course, but Mai is home for me, so that goes without saying."

"Of course," she nods and looks at me. "Isn't that sweet?"

Getting the inkling of where this is going, I nod too. "Very."

John, being infinitely more perceptive than his son, puts a hand to his heart and bows his head, then quickly changes the subject.

"I was wondering if we could have a word in private," he tells Sienna.

She looks around, seeing nobody in our vicinity save for the venue's security. One of them is Roy, Kaen's other bodyguard.

"I believe we're alone," she says. "What can I help you with?"

"Well..." his eyes flick to me for a second.

She gets his meaning and gives him her fake smile again. "Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Elijah."

Why do my own words on her lips make me want to fuck the brains out of her?

That's a stupid question. Everything she does makes me want to fuck the brains out of her.

He looks at me again, for a few breaths longer this time, and back at Sienna. After more silence where he realizes she's not backing down, he sighs and clears his throat.

"Very well. I wanted to apologize for my son and his... reckless behaviour earlier."

"You don't have to apologize at all, John, you've done nothing wrong."

"I've raised a disrespectful ass is what I've done."

According to Sienna, he hasn't raised him at all, but that's just semantics for him, I'd bet. All for show, just like his next move where he clasps her hands in his and I suppress the urge to break his jaw.

"Look," he says. "You and Tyler have been friends since you were up to my knees. He has been... very troubled without you. I am not asking you to take him back, and I mean no disrespect to you, Elijah."

My fucking ass you don't. This old stump better thank the stars that I'm not Kaen because he and his son would be eating their own entrails if I were.

"All I ask is that you let him into your life again," he looks at Sienna squarely, pointedly. "My wife and I always thought of you as the daughter we never had. We would love to continue that relationship. As a family."

I am on the brink of losing my fucking cool. I'll give him one thing, he has the balls his son doesn't. For all the good that'll do him when I crush his skull in my hands.

But no. I can't think like this and let myself spiral again. Sienna wasn't wrong when she said offending this family isn't smart. Violence won't do us any favours here, and an outright rejection won't either. It needs to be cleverly calculated unless we want—

"No."

I blink, tempted to shake my head in case I heard her wrong. For the briefest of milliseconds, I think we're done for; that I may have pushed her too far in the other direction and now there's no coming back.

But that lasts such a short time that I barely even notice it, because the look of iron in her eyes says loud and clear that she knows what she's doing. A part of me feels ashamed for doubting her for even that briefest of moments.

I don't know what John's reaction is, I'm only looking at her as she pulls her hands back.

"Here's what's gonna happen," she says, picking up her phone. "I'm not doing shit with or for your son, and you'll still support me."

This time, I look at him. He'd pulled back slightly, his eyes wider than before. It's not much of an expression, but I've seen men like this caught off-guard before, and they looked just like that. And that is rapidly morphing into a scowl, eyes sharpening like knives as his eyebrows come together.

"You are very presumptive," says he.

"No," she smiles and, this time, it reaches her eyes. "I'm simply right."

He tilts his chin up so that he looks down on her. "And what makes you think that?"

"I'm glad you asked," she unlocks her phone and studies the screen. "Adorable girl, don't you think?"

She shows it to me. It's a photo of a teenager in a school uniform. She's shaking someone's hand and holding a certificate of educational excellence.

"An overachiever, it seems," I say.

"Oh, yeah. And look at her mom." She swipes to show another photo of her at the same event with a woman who looks almost like a carbon copy of her, save for the child's blue eyes.

My eyes go to John, who's gone significantly paler.

"Wait till you see the dad," she says, swiping again.

My smirk grows as John's face stares at me through the screen, an ear-to-ear smile as he poses with the woman and child.

"What an adorable family," I say.

"I think so, too," she flips the screen to John. "Don't you?"

John's mask had completely slipped. He glares at me and Sienna like a mad dog, his nostrils flaring.

"If you touch them," he tells her, "I'll make you rue the day your father came in your Russian whore of a mother. Do you hear me?"

I know Sienna has probably heard this a million times. I know she probably expected to hear it now and doesn't want me interfering. But what I know and what my instincts tell me to do are often very different things.

I feel a roiling in my chest like a fucking storm as I step toward him. Dark spots pepper my vision as I stare into the eyes he thinks he can scare me with. My hands itch to force his jaw open and rip his tongue out before he bleeds out at her feet. I'm going to kill him, I realize. I'm going to kill him and there's no one to stop me, nobody who can, not even myself.

Except for one person.

Her hand flies to my chest like a ship's anchor catches on rocks in a storm. I hold on to it, to the only thing keeping me sane as the storm subsides, as my vision returns, as my breathing evens out. It all lasted only a few seconds, but I feel like I've been in that storm for years.

She steps toward him.

"I'm not in the business of hurting innocent people, John," she says, voice low and glare sharp like her father's. "Let's make things clear, you can expect anything you want from me, but never that. I'll never threaten the lives of anyone who has nothing to do with this. Especially not children. Understood?"

He doesn't answer but, almost imperceptibly, his glare softens.

"You, however," she holds her head high, the Macheras glare boring holes into him. "I wonder what would happen to you if your little secret were to get out. This girl is sixteen, isn't she? You've managed to hide a whole family, a whole life, for sixteen years? I think Mai would be devastated enough to divorce you. And that would be, what, at least half of your assets gone?"

He visibly swallows as his eyes soften just the smallest bit further.

"Oh, and you'd likely be forced to legitimize this girl, if for protection alone," Sienna continues. "This means Tyler's inheritance would be halved, and what would your little spoiled baby boy brat think of that? Not to mention what might happen if that woman and child find out that you've not only had a family this whole time, but that you're also tied in with some of the most dangerous people in the world. Maybe that's enough to make them leave you, too."

With every sentence, Sienna's voice gets lower and John's glare melts like it's a block of ice before a torch.

"And, eventually," her voice is close to a whisper but not quite there, like her father's. "With a bottle of Jack and a noose, you may decide it's all too much. And, as your neck breaks and you suffocate, maybe your last thought would be of just how much you rue the day your father came in your German whore of a mother, and you'd leave this world as you entered it. A fucking nobody."

If I were a different man, I'd think I misjudged John, that I gave him more credit than I should have. But I'm a man who knows Sienna and is not surprised in the slightest that she put the fear of God in his eyes. In them, in the way he can't hold her gaze steady any longer, you can see that she has broken him.

Sienna smiles. "But that's not gonna happen, right, John? Because you'll do exactly what I said you would. You will keep your powdered whore of a son away from me and you will give me your unwavering support, and nobody will find out."

His jaw clenches but he still doesn't meet her eyes.

"Right?" She repeats, extending her hand.

Finally, he looks at her. Hatred burns in his eyes, but so does fear. Something gnaws at me, something she once told me about her father, and it tastes bitter in my mouth.

"You have a deal," he says, clasping it.

"Pleasure doing business with you," she says as she shakes it. Without another word, John leaves.

When he's out of sight, she sighs something heavy as she hands me back her phone. I take it, watching her face tense, and put my hand on the small of her back. The sea of people moves to the tables behind us as she blinks.

"Come on," I take her hand. "It's time."

The breath she takes is a hard but steady one. When she looks back at me, her eyes are hard, determined.

"Let's do this," she says.

We turn to head in everyone's direction. From the brief texts I managed to shoot my brothers, everything went smoothly. The last piece to be auctioned is here, draped in white canvas. The one Vasilios is going to bet on.

But Sienna's father isn't in his seat. He's right before us, looking at her with an unfamiliar expression on his face; a minuscule smile.

"I taught you too well, haven't I?" He says.

She glares at him. "You only taught me how to kill what I love."

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. Then he looks at me. "I need a word with my daughter."

"She doesn't want a word with you," she says, dragging me to the tables. Something shifts in the air, something cold, like a window opening in the middle of a blizzard.

"Sienna," her father calls, and she freezes.

The blizzard tore my home from its foundation and left me standing naked in its midst. One glance is all she gives me as my stomach plummets to the earth's core. The shock I see in her eyes is that of a child witnessing a miracle. It's the same look she gives her father next.

No. Not now, God dammit. Not ever, but especially not now. Fuck this piece of shit straight to hell.

"Hey," I squeeze her hand, looking for a thread in her eyes made of the right words to pull her back by. "Don't let him manipulate you."

She looks at me with that awestruck expression but, like an old TV with an unstable connection, it flashes to her determination, gradually stabilizing there. I don't dare breathe a sigh of relief as she looks back at her father.

"The auction's about to start," she tells him.

"They'll wait," he says.

I squeeze her hand again, making her turn to me.

"We have to go," I say, praying she sees the plea in my eyes, that she remembers what we have to do, that she doesn't give in to him.

But her eyes are neutral, neither awed nor steeled. They are resolved; her decision is made. I see what it is before she says it, and my heart breaks into a million pieces.

"I'll be right back," she says, eyes reassuring but words like knives into my soft flesh. "Save me a seat, okay?"

And, without another word or gesture, she slips out of my hands and into her father's.