“You’re testing my patience, Sienna,” he says quietly. Dangerously. “Because right now, as I look at you, all I canthink about is burying myself so deep inside you that I forget everything. I’m holding back because you look like you’re about to break.”
His thumb shifts, tilting my chin up. Forcing me to meet his eyes.
“But if you don’t speak,” he continues, voice low and edged with restraint, “then forget this conversation. We move on. And I won’t ask again.”
Something in his control—how carefully he’s not hurting me—undoes me more than anger ever could.
“I never meant for it to go this far,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before fear can stop them. “I never meant to put you in danger.”
His hand loosens but doesn’t leave. He listens.
“When Mikhailov approached me five years ago, I was broken. Humiliated. Angry.” My voice shakes. “You disappeared without a word. No explanation. No goodbye. And he knew exactly how to twist that pain.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking as he absorbs every word. He doesn’t interrupt.
“He told me I could ruin your career the way you ruined my heart,” I continue. “That one review—just one—could destroy you the way you destroyed me.”
Sebastian exhales slowly and turns his head away, just enough that I see it: the guilt. Sharp. Undeniable. Real.
“But I didn’t do it,” I say quickly, needing him to understand. “I couldn’t. I only became a critic because of my mother. Because she taught me to respect art—to protect it. I refused to desecrate someone’s work like that. Even yours.” My voice cracks. “Even though you hurt me more than anyone ever has.”
His hand finally drops from my throat.
“So five years ago,” I finish, “I walked away from Mikhailov. I didn’t work with him. I didn’t touch your name.”
The room feels unbearably still.
“Until I came back,” Sebastian says quietly.
I nod. “Until you came back.” My voice wavers, but I force myself to keep going. “Until I saw the wedding alliance. And all the pain came back.”
His jaw tightens.
“That’s when Viktor reached out again,” I say. “This time, it wasn’t about a review. He’d figured out he couldn’t use me that way.” I swallow. “He found out about the arranged marriage before you did. He told me it was fate—that the universe was giving me the perfect chance to finish what I started.”
Sebastian’s fingers curl slowly into the edge of the table. The wood creaks under the pressure.
“And you listened,” he says.
Tears blur my vision. “I did. But only at first.”
His eyes lift to mine, sharp. Unforgiving. Waiting.
“He said he needed small things,” I continue. “Harmless things. Notes on your habits. Copies of your public reviews. Tiny details. Nothing malicious. Nothing that would hurt you.”
“And then?” His voice is flat. Controlled.
“Then he escalated behind my back.” My chest tightens. “He used my access to your gallery files. He sent falsified certificates under your signature. He used my name to authenticate fake provenance logs.”
Sebastian’s head snaps up. “You didn’t send those?”
“No,” I whisper. “I didn’t even know how. He used my identity. My digital trail.” My voice breaks. “My vulnerability.”
Sebastian closes his eyes and exhales slowly, like he’s holding back something dangerous. Something final.
I take a step toward him, hands trembling, afraid and desperate all at once.
“I didn’t mean to betray you,” I say softly. “I just…didn’t know how to stop him.” My voice cracks, but I don’t look away. “I was stupid, Sebastian. Not cruel. Not calculating. Just hurt. And he took advantage of that.” I swallow hard. “I swear to you, I never wanted this. I never wanted you ruined. I never wanted a war.”
