However You Want

Chapter4

‎Sienna

I waited exactly eleven minutes after the elevator doors closed before I moved.

Eleven minutes of sitting on the edge of his bed, sheets still tangled around my legs, the taste of him still in my mouth, replaying every warning he had left behind. Stay in this apartment. Do not open the door. Do not leave. The words had been calm. The look in his eyes had not.

I stood up.

My dress was easy to find. The underwear took longer. I skipped the heels and walked barefoot into the main living area, the city glittering coldly beyond the glass. The apartment felt larger without him in it—expensive, sparse, and strangely empty of anything personal. No photos. No clutter. Just dark furniture and the faint scent of his cologne hanging in the air.

I told myself I was only looking for water.

The kitchen was all black stone and matte metal. I filled a glass from the filtered tap and drank it slowly, staring at my reflection in the window. My neck already showed the beginning of a bruise where his mouth and hand had been. I touched it once, then dropped my hand.

Curiosity won over caution.

I moved through the rest of the apartment with quiet steps. Guest bathroom—unused. Second bedroom—empty except for a made-up bed. A home office at the end of the hall. The door was closed but not locked.

I pushed it open.

The room was darker than the others. A large desk faced the windows. A single laptop sat closed on top of it. No papers. No personal items. I almost turned around.

Then I saw the drawer.

The bottom one on the right side was not fully closed. A thin strip of black metal showed where it had caught. I hesitated for half a second, then pulled it open.

Inside, nestled in foam, lay a black handgun and two spare magazines.

I stared at it for a long time.

The rational part of my brain supplied every possible excuse—collector’s item, licensed, whatever story people told themselves. The rest of me remembered the way Lucian’s entire body had gone still when the second message came through. They’re here. The cold shift in his voice when he told me I would find out who Nikolai was if I disobeyed.

I closed the drawer carefully and stepped back.

That was when the soft chime of the elevator echoed through the apartment.

My pulse jumped.

Lucian had said he would be back before sunrise. It had only been twenty minutes.

I walked out of the office and into the living room just as the elevator doors slid open.

It was not Lucian.

A man in a dark suit stepped out. Mid-thirties, sharp features, the same cold composure Lucian wore when he was no longer playing. His eyes found me instantly and flicked once over my bare legs, the dress I had thrown back on, the mark on my neck.

He stopped three steps into the room.

“You’re not supposed to be walking around,” he said. His accent was thicker than Lucian’s.

I kept my voice steady. “And you’re not supposed to be here.”

A humorless smile touched his mouth. “Nikolai." Lucian’s brother. He sent me to make sure the apartment stayed secure while he handled something.” His gaze dropped to my throat again, lingering on the bruise. “He didn’t mention company.”

Heat crawled up my face, but I refused to look away. “He told me not to open the door for anyone.”

“I’m not anyone.” Nikolai’s eyes moved past me toward the hallway, cataloging exits, threats, the open office door I had not closed all the way. When they returned to me, they were colder. “Get your things. I’m taking you home.”

“No.”

The single word hung between us.

Nikolai tilted his head slightly, as if he had not heard correctly. “That wasn’t a request.”

“I didn’t ask for one.” I crossed my arms. “Lucian told me to stay. So I’m staying.”

Something dangerous flickered behind his expression. He took one step closer.

“Listen carefully. The men who came after us tonight knew enough to hit a second location. That means they have been watching. If they followed my brother here earlier, or if they are still watching the building, then you are no longer a private detail. You are a problem. I am removing the problem.”

My stomach dropped, but I held my ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Nikolai exhaled slowly through his nose. He looked like a man who was used to being obeyed and had very little patience left for the alternative.

He reached into his jacket.

I tensed—then realized he was only pulling out a phone. He typed something quickly with one hand and waited.

Ten seconds later, the phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen, then at me.

“He’s on his way back.” His voice had gone flat. “You get to explain to him why you were in his office.”

Ice slid down my spine.

Nikolai slipped the phone away and moved past me toward the kitchen, as if he lived there. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, watching me over the rim.

“Sit down, Sienna,” he said quietly. “This is about to get uncomfortable.”

I did not sit.

The elevator chimed in again.

Both of us turned.

Lucian stepped out.

There was blood on his right knuckles and a thin cut along his cheekbone. His white shirt was no longer pristine. His eyes went first to Nikolai, then to me, then to the open hallway that led to the office.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

He closed the distance in four long strides, stopped directly in front of me, and took my chin between his blood-streaked fingers. His thumb pressed against the bruise he had left on my neck earlier.

“You went looking,” he said. It was not a question.

I met his gaze and refused to flinch. “You left a loaded gun in an unlocked drawer. What did you expect?”

Behind him, Nikolai made a low sound that might have been a laugh or a warning.

Lucian’s eyes never left mine. The hunger from earlier was gone. What replaced it was colder, sharper, and far more permanent.

“Nikolai,” he said without turning around. “Leave.”

His brother set the glass down and walked to the elevator without another word. The doors closed behind him with a soft finality.

Silence settled.

Lucian’s blood-streaked hand slid from my chin to my throat, resting there with deliberate weight. Not squeezing. Just reminding me he could.

“You should have stayed in bed,” he said quietly.

“And you should have told me who you were before you f****d me.”

A muscle jumped into his jaw. For a moment I thought he might actually answer. Instead, he leaned in until his mouth was a breath from mine.

“You’re going to learn the hard way, Sienna.”

His other hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. He opened it, removed a single key card, and pressed it into my palm.

“That opens the elevator to this floor and no other. You will use it when I tell you to. You will not leave this building without me until I say otherwise.”

I stared at the card, then at him. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His voice stayed soft, almost gentle. “And I am. The men who came after us tonight are still breathing. That means they can still talk. Until I know how much they saw, you stay where I can reach you.”

He released my throat, stepped back, and nodded toward the bedroom.

“Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute. We have things to discuss.”

I closed my fingers around the key card. The plastic edges a bit into my skin.

Lucian turned away and walked toward the office I had already searched, already knowing exactly what I would find there.

He paused at the doorway without looking back.

“And Sienna?”

I waited.

“Next time you go through my things, make sure you’re ready for the answers you get.”

He disappeared into the office and closed the door behind him with a quiet, decisive click.

I stood alone in the living room, key card in one hand, the taste of blood and s*x and sudden danger thick in the air, realizing with perfect clarity that the night I had walked into willingly was no longer something I could simply walk out of.