Chapter 3 - Shifting Shadows
The meeting had been a victory, but the aftermath was a storm. By the time they returned to the penthouse, the sun was dipping below the skyline, casting long, bloody shadows across the hardwood floor.
Sienna was exhausted. Her shoulders ached, and her feet were burning. She began packing her notes into her bag, eager to escape to the new apartment Vittorio had provided—a beautiful, secure high-rise in the Loop that felt like a palace compared to her Pilsen studio.
"You risked your life today," Dawson said from the balcony. He was holding a glass of amber liquid, but to her surprise, it was iced tea, not whiskey. The wind caught his dark hair, blowing it across his forehead.
"I did my job," Sienna said, adjusting her coat.
"No. Your job is to keep me on a leash for my father. Your job isn't to put yourself between me and a dozen armed union thugs." He walked inside, his footsteps silent. He stopped just inches away from her, towering over her. "Why did you do it?"
"Because if you had shot Vance, a war would have started. And if a war starts, people like my father get caught in the crossfire." Sienna looked up into his dark eyes, refusing to back down. "I don't care about your empire, Dawson. I care about keeping the monsters away from my door."
Dawson reached out, his hand surprisingly gentle as his thumb brushed against her jawline. Sienna’s breath hitched. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to his cold aura.
"You think I'm a monster?" he whispered.
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"I think you try very hard to be one," she replied, her voice shaking slightly.
He stared at her lips for a fraction of a second before pulling his hand away, his expression hardening back into stone. "Go home, Sienna. Tomorrow will be worse."
