Blissfully Unaware
1208 Words
Julian had been pacing his office for seven full minutes, each step sharper than the last. His jaw tightened every time his mind replayed the phone call from earlier Sienna’s calm, confident voice telling him she would not sign the contract today.
Her refusal wasn’t just irritating him.
It was igniting something old, something ugly, something he spent years burying under money, business meetings, and the illusion of control.
No woman had ever dragged him emotionally like this. No woman had ever dared to challenge him this way. And definitely, no woman had ever held his plans hostage over a signature.
He slammed his fist on the desk.
He hated her. God, he hated her with a passion that felt dangerously close to fascination. But tonight, he needed her. Not for s*x, not for comfort but for presentation.
He had dinner with two senior partners from Vanguard Oil, a meeting meant to solidify a cross-continental merger, one his father would not want him to lose. Appearing with a "fiancée" would strengthen his image, portray emotional stability, and show the partners he was capable of maintaining long-term commitments.
A man with a stable woman at his side was a man who could maintain corporate loyalty. And the only woman who fit that requirement now was Sienna.
Unfortunately.
He snatched his phone and dialed her number.
She picked on the third ring.
“What?” she said flatly.
He inhaled sharply. “I’m sending my assistant to your apartment.”
“Oh? Why?”
“You need a dress for tonight’s dinner. We’re meeting clients, and you should present yourself well.”
Sienna gave a small, amused chuckle. “That will cost you extra for my time.”
Julian stopped pacing. “I already paid you. It’s in the contract.”
She smiled through the phone. He could hear it, feel it, taste the disrespect. “Julian… I haven’t signed the contract yet, just so you know.”
A vein throbbed in his forehead.
“Sienna,” he said through clenched teeth, “do not play games with me, I'm already having a shitty day ”
“I’m not. I’m stating facts. Every minute I’m out with your assistant? Every dress fitting? Every inconvenience? It’s on your tab.”
He stopped breathing for a moment. She really was out of her mind.
“Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll pay.”
“Lovely,” she said sweetly. “Send her over, I'll be waiting.”
He hung up before she could finish the sentence.
He cursed under his breath.
Everything about this woman irritated his spirit, her defiance, her tone, her refusal to bend. And yet, he needed her to get what he wanted. He hated the irony.
He hated her more.
………
Sienna threw her phone onto the couch and stretched her legs casually like she hadn’t just poked a billionaire in the chest with a steel rod.
Lola, sitting on the floor sorting laundry, stared up at her.
“So… he agreed to pay?”
“He didn’t have a choice.”
Lola cackled. “Girl, I hope you don't drive the poor man nuts.”
“He’ll live,” Sienna said, walking toward the mirror to adjust her hair. Julian’s intimidation rolled right off her skin.
Almost an hour later, the doorbell rang. Sienna jumped up to get the door..
A woman in a fitted blazer and an exposed top was standing in front of her. She had perfectly styled dark hair and sexy lingerie legs.
“Good afternoon,” she said warmly. “You must be Sienna.”
“And you are?”
“Angela,” she said. “Mr. Blackwell’s assistant. I’ll be helping you prepare for tonight.”
Sienna smiled politely. “Come in.”
Angela stepped inside, eyes quickly scanning the apartment the way polished assistants do discreet but thorough.
Angela clasped her hands. “We have a schedule. The driver is outside, Mr. Blackwell wants you in a formal gown. Elegant. Conservative but striking.”
Sienna raised an eyebrow. “I pick my own clothes.”
Angela smiled like she’d heard that many times. “Of course. I'm just here to make sure you pick the right dress for the occasion.”
Sienna didn’t argue. The more she wasted Julian’s time, the more he paid. “I’ll just grab my purse,” She said, knowing she won't be needing it.
The car ride to the boutique was strangely pleasant. Angela was surprisingly gentle, articulate, and easy to talk to. Not once did she slip into the stiff corporate tone Sienna expected.
“How long have you worked with Julian?” Sienna asked casually.
“Four years,” Angela said, smiling. “He’s demanding. But brilliant.”
Sienna hummed. “Demanding is one word.”
Angela laughed lightly. “Oh, I know. He’s intense. But he means well. Sometimes.”
If only you knew, Sienna thought.
They pulled into a private couture atelier marble floors, towering chandeliers, and racks of gowns that probably cost enough to pay rent for a year.
The stylist approached immediately. “Ms. Sienna! Mr. Blackwell has already given us a list of preferred looks.”
Sienna held up a hand. “Let me pick first.”
Angela blinked, then nodded. “Of course. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Sienna ran her fingers across a navy silk gown, then a silver one dripping in crystals. She tried on three dresses all stunning, all extremely expensive.
Angela’s eyes followed her in the mirror.
“You’re beautiful,” Angela said sincerely. “Julian has good taste.”
Sienna turned slowly. “He didn’t pick this dress.”
“No,” Angela said. “But he picked you.”
Sienna ignored the strange twist in her stomach. After seven dresses, she settled on a deep red evening gown, smooth satin, high slit, low back, a silent declaration of confidence.
Angela clasped her hands. “This is breathtaking, Julian might pass out.”
“He’ll manage.”
……..
Angela tapped a few notes into her tablet.
“The total is being charged directly to Mr. Blackwell’s corporate account.”
Sienna smirked. “Good. I’d hate for my time to be wasted.”
Angela blinked. “I get you.”
“Mhm.”
Angela studied her with a curious expression, like she was trying to decode the dynamic. “You two," she began slowly, “have a very interesting relationship.”
“You could call it that.”
Angela nodded thoughtfully, but something about her eyes shifted something guarded.
If only Sienna knew.
If only she knew this same woman had been warming Julian’s bed on and off for years.
If only she knew the assistant helping her zip dresses was the same woman Julian kissed in parking lots and hotel hallways.
But Sienna was blissfully unaware.
For now.
---
Back in the car as they drove back to the apartment, Angela tapped her tablet again.
“Mr. Blackwell asked me to remind you that dinner starts at 8. He’ll pick you up at 7:15.”
Sienna looked out the window.
“Angela,” she said suddenly.
“Yes?”
“I want you to tell me about your boss.” She said authoritatively.
- Writer
