Chapter 5:Key To My Heart
1720 Words
Sienna
"One more, Sienna. For the Sterling empire," Maria shouted over the thumping bass of The Velvet Room.
I didn't need one more. I’d already had three "Obsidian Martinis," and the world was starting to look as blurry as one of my early fashion sketches. But being in this club—surrounded by people who didn't know I was legally tethered to a Vane—felt like freedom.
"To empires," I toasted, clinking my glass against hers. "And to neon pink glitter that never dies."
We didn't get home until 3:00 AM. I remember stumbling through the penthouse, vaguely noticing that the living room still looked like a Sterling billboard, and feeling a deep sense of victory before I collapsed onto the bed.
The Next Morning...
I woke up to a sound that shouldn't exist. It was a high-pitched, metallic clink-clink-clink.
My head didn't just ache; it felt like it was being used as an anvil. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the light was already leaking through the blackout curtains.
"Maria?" I croaked. No answer. She was probably in the guest suite, hopefully in a coma of her own.
I needed water. I needed a dark room. And most of all, I needed to change out of my silk slip and into something that didn't smell like club smoke.
I rolled out of bed, holding my head as I shuffled toward the master closet. I forgot. In my tequila-soaked brain, I had completely forgotten what Julian had done.
I pushed open the door.
"Oh... God," I whispered, immediately clutching my stomach.
The Safety-Cone Orange hit me like a physical blow. In the harsh 9:00 AM sunlight, the walls weren't just bright—they were vibrating. The color seemed to pulse against my retinas, turning my hangover from a dull throb into a violent, spinning nausea.
It was a neon nightmare. Every black dress hanging on the racks looked like a silhouette against a sun that was trying to murder me.
"Do you like the morning glow, Sterling?"
I froze. Julian was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, dressed in his gym gear, looking entirely too healthy and hydrated. He was holding a bottle of alkaline water like it was a trophy.
"Go away," I groaned, shielding my eyes with my hand. "It’s too loud."
"The room?" he asked, stepping closer, his smirk practically audible. "I thought you said it was 'bold.' I thought you liked the 'Hermès' vibe."
"I like it when I’m not seeing it in 4D," I hissed. I turned toward the master bathroom, desperate to splash cold water on my face and drown out the orange glare.
I turned the faucet. Nothing.
I jiggled the handle. Not even a drip.
"Julian," I said, my voice dangerously low. "Why is the water not working?"
"Ah, right," he said, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his water. "The building manager called. Emergency plumbing inspection. Something about a leak in the master line. The water is off for the next six hours."
I turned to look at him, my head spinning, the orange walls behind me making my vision swim. "You’re lying. You did this on purpose."
"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he lied beautifully. "But if you really need a shower, the guest suite is being used by Maria. And the gym shower is... well, it’s a bit of a walk. Of course, you could always use my private gym downstairs. But that would require you to ask me for the key."
I stared at him—this beautiful, petty, brilliant monster. He knew I had a hangover. He knew the orange was killing me. And he had cut off my only escape.
"I will wash my hair in the kitchen sink with bottled Evian before I ask you for a thing," I snapped.
"The kitchen water is off too, Princess," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "It’s a 'total building' issue. Such a shame."
The orange walls seemed to close in on me. I had two choices: puke on his expensive shoes, or find a way to make him pay for every single minute of this.
Sienna
I had exactly two hours before the "Grumpy Cat Sanctuary" Gala, and I was currently looking like a drowned rat in a $20 million penthouse with no running water. My head was still thumping from the tequila, and the orange walls of my closet were mocking me.
"Maria," I whispered, holding a silk robe to my chest. "Phase Two."
"On it," Maria said, her eyes flashing with professional mischief.
I walked into the living room where Julian was perched on the edge of the sofa, looking entirely too smug as he scrolled through emails. I forced my face into an expression I hadn't used since I was six years old: Contrite.
"Julian?" I said, making my voice soft, almost vulnerable.
He looked up, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "Sterling? You look... hydrated. Oh wait, that’s just the sweat from the lack of a shower."
"Please," I said, stepping closer and blinking my lashes. "I have this Gala. My grandmother is going to be there. If I show up with club-hair and yesterday’s eyeliner, she’ll cut my inheritance faster than you can say 'construction cone.' Just... let me use your master bath. Just for forty-five minutes?"
Julian stared at me. He was looking for the trap. I could see the gears turning in his head—he was wondering if I was going to dye his towels pink or steal his razor. But the "Stary Writing" hero in him couldn't resist a damsel in distress, even if that damsel was his mortal enemy.
"Fine," he sighed, tossing a silver keycard onto the table. "Forty-five minutes. If I find a single sequin in my shower, I’m changing the locks to the front door."
"You’re a saint, Julian," I lied, snatching the key.
Julian
I got caught up in a conference call with Alan about the Midtown zoning permits. By the time I hung up, the penthouse was eerily quiet.
"Sterling?" I called out. No answer.
I looked at my watch. Crap. The Gala started in thirty minutes. Alan had already texted me three times: Families are asking. Get here now.
I headed toward my master suite to grab my tuxedo and jump in the shower. I grabbed the handle to my bathroom.
It didn't budge.
I frowned, twisting harder. Locked. From the outside.
"Sienna! Open the door! My tuxedo is in the steam-closet in there!" I pounded on the wood. Silence.
A cold realization began to sink in. I sprinted across the penthouse to the guest suite where Maria had been staying. I grabbed the handle to that bathroom.
Locked.
I checked the hall closet. Locked.
"That little..." I growled, looking at the empty space where her trunks used to be. She hadn't just used my bathroom; she had annexed the entire plumbing system and taken the keys with her.
I had no shower. No tuxedo. And a Gala full of billionaire investors waiting for me.
"Alan!" I barked into my phone. "Don't ask questions. Meet me at the Gala lobby in twenty minutes with a backup suit and a bag of wet wipes. I’m going to kill her. I am actually going to kill her."
Sienna
The Gala was a sea of champagne and pretentious laughter. I looked exquisite in a backless, emerald-green Sterling gown, my hair swept up in a sophisticated knot. I was the picture of a happy, neglected bride.
"Sienna, dear," my grandmother said, tapping her cane as she looked around. "Where is that husband of yours? It’s been an hour."
I let out a soft, rehearsed sigh, dabbing at my eyes with a silk handkerchief. "Oh, Grandmother... I don't like to gossip. But he was so 'busy' at the office today. He told me to come ahead."
"Busy? On his wedding week?" Julian’s aunt asked, leaning in.
"Well," I whispered, loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear. "A man with Julian’s... appetites... often finds it hard to stay in one place for long. I fear there might be a 'business meeting' involving a very pretty mistress that was much more urgent than a cat charity."
A collective gasp went around the table.
"He wouldn't!" Julian’s aunt hissed.
"I just want him to be happy," I said bravely, clutching my champagne. "Even if it’s not with me."
Just then, the double doors to the ballroom swung open.
Julian Vane walked in. He looked... put together, but his hair was slightly damp in a way that suggested a sink-wash, and his tie was crooked. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on me.
If looks could ignite, I would have been a pile of ash in an emerald dress.
"There he is!" I chirped, standing up and waving him over. "Julian, darling! We were just talking about your... urgent business."
He reached the table, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. He leaned down, kissing my cheek with a pressure that felt more like a threat.
"I had a bit of a 'lock' issue at the penthouse," he said through grit teeth, smiling at the grandmothers. "But don't worry, Auntie. I’ve found the key. And I'm going to make sure it's kept in a very... private place from now on."
I felt the heat of his anger—and something else—radiating off him. The war had just gone nuclear.
Okay"than I'm going all in I think to myself,mmh They do say all is fair in love and war and a little witchy laugh escapes my mouth before I cover it up with a dry cough.I look to see if anyone noticed it and I think Maria and Alan heard me but whatever!
That was kinda of creepy Julian whisper in my ear and I just roll my eyes.
- Writer
