Not his first choice

Chapter 8

Lucian

By the time my morning meetings ended, I was in a foul mood.

Not because of business—everything was running smoothly, as always. But because I couldn’t f*****g concentrate.

Every time I tried to focus, my mind flashed back to Sienna.

The way that damn skirt hugged her curves. The way the slit teased me, showing just enough skin to make me wonder what it would feel like to run my hand up her thigh, past that barrier of professionalism she always held between us.

I loosened my tie, exhaling through my nose.

This wasn’t me.

I didn’t get distracted. I didn’t let emotions—**or desire—**cloud my judgment.

And yet, one look at her this morning had me thinking about bending her over my desk and making her forget every rule we had ever followed.

I should have buried the thought. Shut it down before it took root.

But then she walked into my office again.

Calm. Collected. Unbothered.

It shouldn’t have gotten to me, but it did.

“Your lunch reservation with Camilla is confirmed for one,” Sienna said, setting a folder down. “You’ll be meeting at the Davenport Tower restaurant.”

I glanced at the clock. 12:45.

“Cancel it.”

Sienna’s gaze flicked up from her tablet, just the slightest hesitation before she nodded. “I’ll let her know.”

She turned to leave, and something about how easily she dismissed it—**dismissed me—**made my fingers tighten.

“Sienna.”

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. “Yes?”

I leaned back in my chair, watching her. “What do you think?”

Her brow arched slightly. “About what?”

“The engagement.”

A pause. Just long enough to make me wonder what she wasn’t saying.

Then, smooth as ever, she replied, “I think it’s a strategic decision.”

Strategic.

Not personal. Not emotional. Just another deal—the same way Camilla had treated it.

It shouldn’t have irritated me.

But it did.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “And if you had to choose someone for me, who would it be?”

For the first time, she faltered.

It was subtle—the slightest tension in her shoulders, the faintest flicker in her gaze.

And then, just as quickly, she masked it. “I already did.”

Right.

The list.

The one she had handed me like it didn’t gut her to do it.

Something about that realization settled uncomfortably in my chest.

Sienna never faltered. She never hesitated.

But now, I was starting to see the cracks.

And I wasn’t sure if I liked them—or if I wanted to dig my fingers into them until they broke completely.

“Cancel the lunch,” I said again, voice lower this time.

She nodded. “Anything else?”

I should have said no.

I should have let her go.

But instead, my gaze dropped—just for a second.

To the slit in her skirt. To the smooth skin of her thigh.

And for the first time in years, I let myself wonder.

What would happen if I crossed that line?

If I took what I wanted?

If I stopped pretending that Sienna Vale was just my assistant?

She shifted under my gaze, that unreadable mask still in place, but now I knew better.

She felt it too. I could see it in the way her breath hitched—just barely.

In the way her fingers curled against her tablet like she was holding something back.

And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to push her past that restraint.

Instead, I forced myself to nod. “That’ll be all.”

She turned, walking out of my office, and I let myself watch her go.The slit of her skirt moved with each step.

And for the rest of the day, all I could think about was how much I wanted to see what was underneath.