Chapter 5: The Unwanted Reunion
1596 Words
The Meridian Gallery opening was exactly the kind of pretentious art event Alessandro normally avoided.
Champagne that cost more than most people's weekly groceries. Abstract paintings that looked like someone had sneezed paint onto canvas. People using words like "transcendent" and "liminal" to describe expensive wallpaper.
But according to the guest list his assistant had acquired, Sienna would be here. Sterling & Cross was sponsoring the event.
He'd told himself he just wanted to see her. Make sure she was okay.
He was a liar, and he knew it.
Alessandro scanned the gallery. Modern space, white walls, track lighting. A hundred people pretending to understand art.
And then he saw her.
For a second, he forgot how to breathe.
Sienna stood near a massive canvas, talking to a woman in a silver dress. But it wasn't the painting that stopped his heart—it was her.
She'd cut her hair into a sharp bob that ended below her jaw. It made her look sophisticated. Like she'd shed some previous version of herself and emerged as someone new.
She wore red. A dress that hugged her body. She stood taller, shoulders back, chin up. The Sienna he'd known had always made herself smaller in public spaces.
This Sienna took up exactly as much room as she wanted.
She laughed, and the sound carried across the gallery. Real laughter. Not the polite, careful laugh she'd used around his friends when she'd been his secret. This was uninhibited, genuine, free.
She looked happy.
In three years together, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her look this happy.
"Alessandro Castellano. Didn't expect to see you here."
He turned to find James Whitmore—Vanessa's father—smiling with all the warmth of a tax audit.
"James. I have an interest in contemporary art."
"Since when?" James's gaze drifted across the room, landed on Sienna. "That's Sienna Morales, isn't it? The strategist everyone's talking about. Brilliant woman. Nothing like the nervous girl you used to keep in your penthouse."
So James had known. Of course he'd known.
"That was a long time ago," Alessandro said.
"Six months. Hardly ancient history. Does Vanessa know you're here?" James finished his champagne. "Word of advice, son? Let the past stay in the past. You made your choice. Live with it."
He walked away.
Across the room, Sienna was alone now, studying a canvas of swirling blues and greens. This was his chance.
His feet carried him forward.
"Sienna."
She turned, and for just a heartbeat, something flickered across her face. Surprise. Maybe pain. Then it was gone, replaced by polite neutrality.
"Alessandro." His name sounded foreign. Formal. "What a surprise."
"I didn't know you'd be here."
"Sterling & Cross is sponsoring. I'm here representing the firm." She gestured to her champagne. "Supporting the arts and all that."
"You look good. Really good."
"Thank you." She wasn't wearing any jewelry. Nothing he'd given her. She'd stripped away every trace of him. "How's married life?"
The question felt like a knife.
"It's fine."
"Good. That's good." She looked back at the painting like it was more interesting than this conversation.
"Sienna, I—" He stepped closer, lowered his voice. "I got your text. It felt like a goodbye."
"Because it was." Her eyes were calm. Clear. No tears, no anger, just nothing. "You're married, Alessandro. I'm moving forward with my life. There's nothing else to say."
"There's a lot to say. I never stopped—"
"Please don't." Something sharp entered her voice. "Don't tell me you never stopped thinking about me or missing me. You made your choice. I made mine. Let's just leave it at that."
"What if I made the wrong choice?"
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Then that's something you need to discuss with your wife. Not with me. I'm not your therapist, Alessandro. I'm not your escape route. I'm not your anything anymore."
Before he could respond, a hand appeared at the small of her back.
Possessive. Familiar.
Alessandro looked up and found himself face-to-face with Dante Moretti.
Up close, Moretti was younger than expected. Mid-thirties. He wore his expensive suit casually—no tie, top button undone. His smile was friendly, but his eyes were calculating.
"Sorry I'm late," Dante said to Sienna. His hand stayed on her back. "Traffic was a nightmare. Did I miss anything important?"
"Nothing important," Sienna said, and Alessandro felt the words like a slap. "Just admiring the art."
"And who's this?" Dante extended his free hand. "I'm Dante Moretti."
"I know who you are." Alessandro didn't take the offered hand.
"Alessandro." Sienna's voice carried a warning. "Don't be rude."
He forced himself to shake Moretti's hand. The grip was firm. Competitive. This was a pissing contest, and they both knew it.
"Alessandro Castellano," Dante said. "Castellano Properties. We've been competing for years. Though you've been unusually quiet lately. Married life keeping you busy?"
"Something like that."
"Congratulations, by the way. I saw the wedding announcement." Dante's hand was still on Sienna's back, thumb moving in small circles. "Vanessa Whitmore, right? Beautiful ceremony. Very... traditional."
The emphasis wasn't subtle.
"And what brings you here tonight?" Alessandro asked.
"Sienna invited me." Dante smiled down at her with genuine warmth. "We've been working together on the Brooklyn project. She's brilliant—but I'm sure you know that already."
The way he said it—like he knew. Like Sienna had told him everything.
"The Brooklyn development," Alessandro said slowly. "Impressive community support."
"We have Sienna to thank for that," Dante said. "Her strategic vision completely transformed how the community perceives the project."
"She does." Alessandro's eyes stayed locked on Sienna. "She's always been very good at reading people."
Sienna's grip tightened on her champagne glass. "I should probably circulate. Network."
"Of course." Dante's hand dropped. "I'll catch up with you in a few minutes?"
"Sure."
She started to turn away.
"It was good seeing you," Alessandro said, hating how desperate it sounded.
Sienna paused, looked back. "Was it?"
Then she walked away, her red dress disappearing into the crowd.
Alessandro and Dante stood in awkward silence.
"So," Dante said finally. "You and Sienna. How do you know each other?"
"We're acquainted."
"Acquainted." Dante's smile sharpened. "She was pretty upset when I found her six months ago. Looked like someone had broken her heart. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Alessandro's hands clenched. "I don't think that's any of your business."
"You're right. It's not." Dante sipped his champagne, relaxed. "But she is. My business, I mean. We're together now. Have been for a few weeks. So I just want to make sure we're clear—whatever history you two have, it's history. She's moved on."
"Has she told you that?"
"She doesn't have to. I can see it." Dante's expression softened. "She's happy now. Happier than she's been in years. And I plan to keep her that way."
Before Alessandro could respond, Sienna reappeared with Miranda.
"Dante, this is Miranda, my boss. And this is..." She paused, struggled. "Alessandro Castellano. An old acquaintance."
Old acquaintance. Three years together, reduced to two words.
Miranda pulled Dante away to discuss business. Dante squeezed Sienna's hand. "I'll find you later?"
"Yeah. Later."
And then it was just Alessandro and Sienna again.
"You're dating him," Alessandro said.
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Does it matter?"
"To me it does."
Sienna sighed. "A few weeks. It's new. And before you ask—yes, I like him. Yes, he makes me happy. Yes, it's real."
"It's been six months."
"And you've been married for four of them." Her eyes flashed. "Don't you dare judge me for moving on when you literally married someone else."
"Vanessa and I—it's not the same thing."
"You're right. It's worse. At least Dante and I actually like each other."
The words cracked something in his chest.
"Sienna—"
"Stop." She held up a hand. "Just stop. We're done, Alessandro. We were done the moment you chose Vanessa over me. I've accepted that. You need to accept it too."
"What if I can't?"
"Then that's your problem. Not mine." She drained her champagne. "I have to go."
"Is that what I am? Your ex?"
"You were never really my anything official enough to be an ex. So let's just say you're someone I used to know." She started to walk away, then paused. "Oh, and Alessandro? For what it's worth—I forgive you. For all of it. But that doesn't mean I want you back in my life."
She walked away.
Alessandro stood frozen, watching Dante wrap an arm around her waist, making her smile in a way that used to be reserved for Alessandro alone.
When they left together, Dante's hand on her lower back, Alessandro followed at a distance. Watched Dante open the cab door for her. Watched them drive away, looking like the kind of couple Alessandro and Sienna had never been allowed to be.
Happy. Public. Real.
He pulled up his lawyer's number.
"Richard. I want everything on Moretti by Monday. Everything. Financial records, business deals, personal relationships. Every vulnerability. I want to know how to destroy him."
"Alessandro, are you sure—"
"Monday. Not a request."
He hung up.
James Whitmore's words echoed: Let the past stay in the past. You made your choice. Live with it.
But Alessandro had never been good at living with his choices.
He'd lost her once through his own cowardice.
He wasn't going to lose her again.
Even if it meant burning down everything to get her back.
- Writer
