I stride past her and take the stairs two at a time. She follows without rushing, without hesitation. Guards and staff line the halls, bowing as we pass. If they notice that the newly married couple looks more like opponents than lovers, they’re smart enough to keep it to themselves.
When we reach the upper floor, she finally speaks, her voice calm, detached.
“I want a separate room.”
“Not happening.”
She doesn’t argue.
That—more than anything—sets my teeth on edge. I want resistance. I want fire. I want her to snap back so I can snap right back. But she just keeps walking, and I hate that I’m the only one visibly affected.
I push open the door to my suite.
“Here.”
She walks in without comment and heads straight for the mirror. Reaches up and starts removing the pearls from her hair, one by one, like I’m not even standing there.
Behind us, the guards roll her luggage inside. I don’t turn.
“Leave it. Go,” I say.
They disappear instantly.
The door shuts.
Silence.
She frees the last pearl and lets her hair fall down her back in a slow spill of red. It’s like watching fire come loose. She removes her earrings next, her movements unhurried, graceful—completely at ease.
I’m not.
The contrast between how composed she is and how tightly wound I feel makes something hot and dangerous coil in my chest.
“You enjoyed today,” I say finally.
She meets my eyes in the mirror. Not directly—just enough to acknowledge me. “I did.”
My jaw tightens. “Care to explain why?”
She shrugs, sliding the earrings onto the vanity. “It was my wedding.”
“That kiss,” I say. “The dance. You don’t do anything without intention, Sienna.”
A corner of her mouth lifts. “And you don’t like not knowing the reason.”
I take a step closer. “I don’t like being played with.”
She turns then, slow and deliberate, leaning back against the vanity. The silk of her dress catches the light, her expression cool and unreadable.
She turns slowly, deliberately, and leans back against the vanity. The silk of her gown catches the light, clinging to her like it was made for moments like this. Her face is calm. Too calm. Nothing readable there.
I step fully into her space.
“You accepted this marriage,” I say quietly, my voice rough around the edges, “to destroy me.”
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. “Interesting theory.”
My jaw tightens. “Drop the act, Sienna.”
