For once, work can wait.
Stepping into Sienna’s personal space, I grip her jaw and press a kiss to her mouth before moving around her so I can grab some of the coffee she’s already brewed.
“Did you sleep okay?” she asks.
“I did.” I can’t remember when I last slept in. I pour some of the black liquid into a mug, and not adding anything, I take a sip before giving her a questioning look. “Did you sleep better after the nightmare?”
When her entire body tenses and she stops stirring the scrambled eggs, my eyes narrow.
“I don’t even remember it.” Her words sound fake. “I slept like the dead.”
I take in the light purple circles beneath her eyes as I drink more of the coffee. Not missing a single thing, I notice the slight tremble in her hands, her pulse visibly fluttering on the side of her neck, her gaze avoiding mine.
She’s extremely anxious about something.
Before I can moderate my tone, I order, “Talk to me.”
Sienna’s eyes dart to mine. “About what?”
“Whatever’s making you anxious.”
She lets out a fake chuckle. “I’m not anxious.” She focuses way too fucking hard on the task of preparing breakfast slash lunch, and when she’s done plating the food, a fake smile curves her mouth in a way that makes her look even more anxious. “Come eat.”
“Sienna,” I say, my tone deceptively calm, “stop with the lies. I see right through you.”
She presses her hand to her forehead, her features tightening as she drops the fake mask. “We had sex, and you’re forcing me to marry you, and I don’t even know how I’m going to explain it to my parents, and once we’re married, it will all go to shit and you will regret it, and I just…can’t…deal…with…the…thought…of…you…”
Her breaths speed up fucking fast until she’s unable to finish the sentence. Realizing she’s having a full-blown panic attack, I quickly set down the mug and hurry forward. Pulling her into a tight hug, my arms engulf her against my chest, and I pepper her cheek and temple with kisses.
“Shh…it’s going to be okay.”
I go through the motions of squeezing her arms, and when her breathing finally slows down, she slumps against me.
Gripping hold of her chin, I force her head back, and when I see the same checked-out-of-reality look in her eyes that she had after the nightmare, my worry grows.
“Princess,” I murmur, my tone as gentle as I can make it. “Look at me.”
Unlike last night, her gaze doesn’t focus on me, but instead, she extracts her body from my arms, and while walking to the bathroom, she says with an unemotional tone, “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”
A frown darkens my forehead as I stare at her until she shuts the door between us.
What the fuck happened to Sienna that made her learn how to dissociate from reality?
Luckily for her, she doesn’t take more than a minute in the bathroom, or I would’ve kicked the door down.
The instant she comes out, I ask, “What are you hiding from me?”
Much to my surprise, she appears to be much calmer, and the vacant expression is gone.
She actually looks relaxed.
My frown darkens even more because none of this is normal.
“Nothing.” She comes closer and leans her hip against the counter where our food is growing cold. “So, Christiano, how are you going to handle this mess?”
Maybe I’m reading too much into her behavior, and she’s just stressed out from the pressure I’m putting on her.
Wanting to give her some peace of mind, I reply, “After we’ve eaten, we’ll visit our parents. You don’t have to do anything but smile. I’ll tell them we’re getting married.”
