Not his first choice

chapter 13

Sienna spends the rest of the afternoon trying—and failing—to focus on anything other than what happened between her and Lucian. The memory of his touch lingers, igniting a fire beneath her skin that refuses to be extinguished. But as much as she aches for more, she knows she can’t afford to dwell on it.

So when Adrian Carter sends a car for her that evening, she pulls herself together, slipping into a stunning black gown that hugs her figure in all the right places. If Lucian thinks he can toy with her emotions, then she’ll remind herself—and him—that she doesn’t need his mixed signals.

The gala is grand, all glittering chandeliers and hushed elegance. Adrian is the perfect gentleman, charming and attentive, making her laugh as he guides her around the room. She can feel Lucian’s gaze on her the moment she steps inside, and when she finally dares to glance in his direction, his expression is unreadable, his eyes dark.

Adrian leans in, his voice a low murmur in her ear. “I have to admit, I was hoping you’d say yes to me and not just as a business obligation.”

Sienna smiles politely, but before she can respond, a firm hand slides around her waist.

Lucian.

“May I have this dance?” he asks, though it’s not really a question. His fingers tighten slightly on her hip, his grip possessive.

Adrian raises an eyebrow but steps back, clearly amused. “Of course.”

Sienna exhales slowly, letting Lucian lead her onto the dance floor. The moment his hands settle on her, she knows this is a mistake. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down her spine, and when their eyes meet, there’s an intensity that steals her breath away.

The music is slow, sultry, filling the space between them as Lucian pulls her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. Their bodies move in perfect synchrony, every step charged with unspoken tension. His thumb brushes over her exposed spine, a deliberate, featherlight touch that makes her heart stutter. His other hand holds hers firmly, guiding her as if he has no intention of letting go.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to her ear. “Do you enjoy letting other men think they have a chance with you?”

Sienna swallows hard, refusing to let him see how much he affects her. “Why do you care?”

Lucian’s fingers flex against her waist, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Because I do.”

Her breath hitches, her body reacting before her mind can catch up. He spins her gracefully, then pulls her back against him, her chest brushing against his. His scent—woodsy, dark, intoxicating—wraps around her, and for a moment, she forgets where they are.

But the song ends, and so does the moment. Before she can fully process what just happened, Adrian steps in with an easy smile. “My turn?”

Lucian hesitates, jaw clenching, before releasing her hand and stepping back. Sienna nods, needing the space, needing the air.

Adrian is a good dancer, smooth and confident, but Sienna’s mind keeps drifting. She barely hears what he’s saying, barely registers his touch. Her body still feels wired, still humming with the remnants of Lucian’s proximity. Her skin burns where his fingers had been, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t shake the weight of his gaze from across the room.

By the time the gala ends, she’s exhausted—not from the event, but from the war raging inside her. Adrian insists on driving her back, and she lets him, her mind still replaying every moment of that dance with Lucian.

When they pull up to her hotel, Adrian turns to her with a soft smile. “I had a great time tonight, Sienna.”

She nods, polite but distant. “Me too.”

His hand comes up to her chin, tilting her face toward him. “Can I kiss you?”

She doesn’t answer, but he takes the silence as permission, leaning in. His lips brush hers, soft and unhurried, but there’s no spark. No heat. No fire licking up her spine the way there had been with Lucian. She forces herself not to stiffen, but she doesn’t kiss him back either.

When he pulls away, he studies her, reading the hesitation in her eyes. “Not quite there yet, huh?” he says lightly.

She exhales softly, offering a small, apologetic smile. “It’s not you.”

Adrian chuckles, leaning back. “It never is.”

She thanks him for the ride and slips out of the car, heading inside without another word. As soon as she’s alone in her hotel room, she lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

This needs to stop.

Lucian is either in, or he’s out. And she refuses to be stuck in between.

—

The private jet is already waiting when Sienna arrives at the airport. She keeps her expression neutral as she steps inside, but the moment she sees Lucian sitting there, his gaze immediately locking onto hers, her heart stumbles.

He says nothing as she settles into her seat across from him, the tension thick and unyielding between them. The flight takes off in silence, the hum of the engines filling the space where words should be.

Sienna leans back, exhaling softly, exhaustion finally creeping in. She closes her eyes, trying to will herself into sleep.

Minutes pass, and then she feels it—warmth, presence. When she opens her eyes slightly, Lucian is there, sitting beside her now instead of across from her.

She should ask why. Should push him away. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she shifts slightly, allowing herself to lean into him. His arm moves, resting lightly along the back of her seat, his body heat seeping into hers. It’s not quite an embrace, but it’s something. A silent acknowledgment that neither of them can keep pretending.

For the first time in days, she falls asleep easily, surrounded by the scent of him, by the unspoken things between them that refuse to be ignored.