His assistant, his obsession

Dinner, doubts and distractions

Sienna stared at the bouquet on her desk long after the note had been read.

You deserve better than half moments. Dinner tonight? – D.

The tulips were gorgeous. Deep red, velvety petals with a faint, sweet scent that clung to the air like a secret. The note should’ve made her smile—should’ve made her feel that familiar flutter in her chest. And it did. But not entirely.

All she could think about was the woman from earlier.

The new PR director.

Tall. Poised. Dressed in an expensive white sheath dress that probably cost more than Sienna’s monthly rent. She looked like the kind of woman who never spilled coffee, never tripped on her heels, never stammered over her words.

And Dante had handpicked her.

That part stung the most.

Still, when the sleek black car arrived that evening, Sienna didn’t hesitate. She stepped inside, clutching a small clutch purse and her nerves. She wore a borrowed midnight-blue dress from her neighbor—simple but elegant, cinched at the waist and flowing softly to her knees. Her curls framed her face in gentle waves, and a hint of lip gloss shimmered in the low light.

She felt… like herself. But also not.

Vulnerable, maybe. Hopeful.

Dante was already seated when she walked into the softly lit restaurant. Candles flickered gently on each table, casting golden halos of light that made everything feel more intimate than she was prepared for.

He stood the second he saw her.

“You look…” His voice caught for a second. “Beautiful.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

They sat. They ordered. And for a while, it was easy.

They didn’t talk about the office or files or deadlines. They talked about life—real life. Her mother’s habit of singing off-key while kneading dough. His childhood winters in Switzerland and how he used to throw snowballs at his boarding school’s headmaster. They laughed over their shared hatred of cold coffee and swapped worst-date stories over pasta and red wine.

Sienna found herself relaxing. Smiling. Letting the warmth of the evening seep into her bones.

Then Dante leaned in, his voice dropping just above a whisper. “I don’t want anyone else around you.”

The smile slipped from her lips.

She hesitated. “Then why did you hire that PR woman?”

His brow creased. “Is that what this is about?”

“I saw you two talking. She’s… your type, isn’t she?”

He leaned back slowly, as if weighing her words. “She’s my employee, Sienna. One I hired because she’s damn good at her job. That’s all.”

Sienna looked away, fingers tightening around her wine glass. “Are you sure?”

There was a pause.

Then Dante reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers. His fingers were warm. Steady.

“Sienna,” he said gently. “I invited you to dinner. I wrote you that note. I only ever look at you like this.”

Her heart thundered against her ribs.

“I don’t care about your past,” he continued, “or your paycheck. Or your pirozhki. I care about you.”

And he said it like it was the simplest truth in the world.

She opened her mouth to respond—but just then, the waiter arrived, interrupting the moment with a too-polite voice and dessert menus neither of them looked at.

The spark dimmed, but the warmth lingered.

Later That Night

Sienna stood outside her apartment, key in hand, heart still racing. The sky was dark above her, stars blinking faintly in the distance, but everything inside her felt lit up.

She didn’t know what they were now. Not exactly.

She didn’t know what this meant or where it would go.

But she knew one thing for certain.

She was done settling for almost.

She wanted everything.