Sienna
My heart breaks with each beat. My kidnapper, my captor—he’s been Nate all along.
I thought I was all out of tears, but I was wrong.
So, so wrong.
How could he have done this to me?
I don’t have the energy to sit up on the bed anymore. So, I lay where Nate left me, curled up in the silk sheets.
Once Nate had left, I stripped out of my white gown. I felt like a princess when I put it on—but to look at it now, caked in mud and spatters of blood…
The clock struck midnight, and Cinderella is left with a rotting pumpkin and some rags.
I don’t even get to keep my glass slippers.
I throw one of my Jimmy Choos and it flies across the room.
I don’t care about anything. Nate’s face flashes across my mind.
He’s grown up...into a man. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t still make my heart beat a little faster. So much for making sure I was unharmed.
My heart is broken in a thousand ways. But Nate couldn’t threaten his henchmen against that. He did that all by himself.
The Nathan Sharp that I knew—or rather, I thought I knew—would’ve never done this to me. When we made a pact to see each other again someday, I never imagined it would be like this.
When we were kids, my dad loved Nate. Sure, he could be hard sometimes, but dad really adored Nate, and they had kept in contact, he would’ve done anything to help give Nate a future.
I don’t know what’s worse. The way Nate betrayed me, or how he betrayed my beloved father. At least my dad isn’t around to live with consequences of knowing that his daughter’s first love was the man who killed him.
Nate might not have pulled the trigger, but he gave the order.
I don’t care about what we’ve shared, I don’t think I could ever forgive him.
So he might as well have killed me too.
But he won’t.
I recognize the look in his eyes now, when he saw me come out of the SUV. There was a connection between us as soon as we laid eyes on each other—and I know he felt it too. Nate knew who I was.
Did he know who I was when he killed my father?
My hand traces up to my neck, and I stroke my fingers over the diamond necklace that lies on my collarbone. Diamonds really are a girl’s best friend.
Right now, these diamonds are my only friend.
They remind me of Daddy. The last present he gave me.
I turn in the bed, lying on my side. My head begins to pound from all the crying, but the rest of my body is numb.
I’m not sure what time I eventually fall asleep.
But when I wake up, it’s early in the afternoon.
Someone—no, Nate—has been in here.
A selection of clothes, shoes, and lingerie hang from the wardrobe, which has been left slightly ajar for me to see. Fresh towels rest on the bench at the end of the bed. On the bedside table, there’s a lukewarm espresso and a plate of finger foods and chocolates.
My childhood favourites.
Fuck. He remembered.
The fact that he remembered my favourite food does nothing to alleviate the weight of losing my dad.
At least that’s what I tell myself. There’s something about Nate that remains unchanged. Despite my dire circumstances, I feel like I can trust him.
Don’t be stupid, Sienna. Never trust that monster.
My chest is heavy with the weight of last night. My eyes are puffy and dry, but I’m sure if I wait long enough, I’ll regain the ability to cry soon enough.
I sit up in the bed, and as I muster the energy to get out from underneath the covers, the door opens.
There stands Nate, carrying a silver tray with a fresh cup of coffee, and some water. If he’s surprised to see me awake, it doesn’t show. As his eyes dip lower and rake across my body, I’m reminded that I stripped to my lacy lingerie and never got dressed again.
I pull the sheets up to cover my breasts, so that Nate can still see the necklace at my throat. He’s not allowed to forget.
“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” I try to make my voice scathing, but my lungs are too weak.
My words come out barely above a whisper, and I have no idea whether Nate heard me. Or if he even cared.
Nate says nothing as he swaps the cold espresso for the fresh cup and leaves the cup of water on the table beside it. I’m adamant not look at him as he gets closer, even though he’s within inches of me.
As soon as Nate is gone, I take the cup of water and cradle it in both hands. My body is grateful for something cool and refreshing after a night of dehydration.
I look at the clothes hanging in the wardrobe, and then back down to my own lingerie. I can’t stay like this. When the water is finished, I wrap myself in a sheet and walk across the room.
Each piece of clothing is from a designer, and arranged by color. It’s as if Nate doesn’t realise that I’m grieving.
I pile my white lingerie on the floor, in exchange for a strappy black set. Then I slip into some Chanel trousers and throw on a camisole top. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and wipe away the makeup that’s streaked down my cheeks.
I return to the bed and look up at the flat screen TV on the opposite wall. I’m almost tempted to watch it, but then I remember that the news is probably having a field day with the death of my father, the would-have-been senator..
I don’t need to turn on the TV to relive my dad being shot.
There he is right now, behind my eyelids, falling to ground in slow motion. Reaching for me, trying to pull me back to him by sheer force of will.
My chest heaves, and I choke as sobs begin to shake my whole body.
An hour or maybe more passes, and there’s a knock at the door. I lift my head to look, but before I had a chance to tell Nate to go away, he walks into the room.
He holds a jug of water and ice and a fresh glass. He swaps the glasses without a word. As though I wasn’t even there.
His apathy to my pain hurts all the more. Because of him, I lose the rest of the day to my tears.
The next day is the same.
Somehow, I find the energy to leave the bed, change my clothes, before crawling back under the sheets and crying. At one point, Nate tries to open the curtains and let some light in, but I all but scream at him as the first sliver of sunlight falls across the cream carpet.
Nate has his henchmen send things in for me—books, magazines, and boxes of chocolates. A small basket of bath products—shampoo, shower gel, bubble bath, everything—is left within view next to the impressive marble tub.
But I barely have the energy to lift my head to drink some water.
What does Nate expect from me? To treat this as some reclusive, exclusive escape from my old life? Like I’m gonna channel Julia Roberts as I recreate Pretty Woman in his tub?
I pull a pillow over my head to block out the light that the curtains can’t stop, and I let the darkness take me.
On the third day, I wake again in the afternoon.
My head is still throbbing, but a fresh glass of water—now with ice and lemon—sits patiently on the bedside table. I sip from it as I summon the strength to leave the bed once again.
I look at the fresh towels—fluffy and somehow sparkling in the dim light through the curtains. With my free hand, I hold them against my chest as I walk towards the bathroom.
I wasn’t totally ready to stop crying yet, but my lank hair didn’t need to be another point on my list of problems.
The bath fills quickly, and fizzes with the bath salts and bubble bath that I stir in with my hand. Steam fills the room as I strip. My hands linger on my necklace, but I don’t dare take it off—my last reminder of Daddy. I sink into the water.
Bubbles cling to my skin, and my body melts in contact with the water. I drop further below the surface of the water until I’m fully submerged. The warmth kisses my cheeks and lifts the dried tears from my skin, freshening me almost instantly.
The bath feels as good as I thought it would.
Through the frosted glass window, I watch the sun set.
I’ve finished cleaning myself when I hear a knock at the guestroom door. There’s a pause, and then another on the bathroom door. Nate appears seconds later.
“Get out. Get dressed.”
There’s the barely-contained rage again. My heart flutters.
“We’re leaving.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
As I stand from the tub, covered in bubbles, Nate lingers for a moment, watching me carefully, before turning his back to me.
“Don’t ask questions. Just be ready. You have ten minutes.”
I wrap a towel around my body, wearing nothing but that and my necklace. Water drips onto the floor as I move between the rooms, but Nate gave me no other choice.
I hate him in this instant, but I also fear for my future.