Twice Claimed: Bound by the Billionaire

Chapter Eleven

Sienna

Strange to think there was once a time when I wished for this kind of solitude on a daily basis.

I wander through the private quarters for a while.

Try to read, but the words won’t stay still.

Try to walk the grounds, but the estate feels like a maze designed to make me feel smaller.

Eventually, my exploring leads me to a door I don’t remember seeing before - half-hidden down a hall paneled in dark oak, the brass handles gleaming. Seeming to dare me to enter.

Damian’s study.

I hesitate. He hasn’t said I can’t go in. But something about the heavy stillness on the other side makes me feel that crossing this threshold will change things.

Still, curiosity wins. It always does.

The study is dim, smelling faintly of leather and woodsmoke. Bookshelves line the walls, and papers sit in neat, almost obsessive stacks. On the far wall hangs another photograph - Damian and Noah again. They look younger. Carefree. But it isn’t just them this time. A woman stands between them - striking, her smile open and real in a way neither man’s is. There’s something almost old-fashioned about the photo, as though it belongs to another life. I can’t look away from the way the two men stand beside her, not quite touching but somehow completely orbiting her, their gazes drawn to her completely.

The woman’s name isn’t written anywhere, but somehow she feels important - almost sacred. The kind of person whose absence leaves a mark on a place long after she’s gone.

I frown, feeling an ache I can’t explain.

On the massive desk is a slim wooden box. I shouldn’t touch it. But it’s already ajar, and inside are small mementos: a tarnished lighter, a worn leather band, a folded letter that’s yellow at the edges.

My hand trembles as I read the paper.

D -

If this is how it ends, I need you to know I never stopped wanting what we almost had.

N.

My pulse throbs in my ears. I read it again, as though a different meaning might appear. It doesn’t.

Noah.

The air in the room thickens, heavy with secrets that have hidden too long in silence.

I replace the letter carefully, almost reverently, and quickly step back. The edge of the desk catches my hip - sharp, grounding. I press my palm there, steadying myself.

What happened between them? Why was Noah gone? Who was the woman in the photo? And why does Damian look like he still carries the weight of something unfinished?

Before I can spiral further, a low, familiar voice comes from the doorway.

“I didn’t think you’d find this room so soon.”

My head snaps up.

Noah stands there.

The same blond hair, a little shorter now. The same piercing blue eyes that seem to see too much, understand too much. Time has only made him sharper - and more dangerous.

“I - didn’t mean to intrude,” I say quickly. “I was just -“

“Curious.” His lips curve, not quite a smile. “You always were, Sienna.”

My throat goes dry. “You remember me.”

“How could I forget?” He steps closer, his gaze flickering almost lazily to the desk where I’d hastily closed the box. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

Something in his tone makes my pulse jump. Not accusation - knowledge. Like he already knows what’s passes between Damian and me.

I don’t answer. I can’t.

Noah sighs softly, eyes lingering on my face. “So it’s true,” he says. “He finally let someone in.”

I swallow hard. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he again moves closer, slow and deliberate, until he’s so close I can feel his warmth.

“Careful, Sienna,” he says quietly. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” And then he turns and walks away.

For a moment, I just stand there, pulse echoing in my ears.

The note. The picture. The look in his eyes when he looked at me.

I should leave it alone. But I can’t. So I follow him.