Sienna
Was I wrong?
Could Nate be the man I remember him as?
Could he be the man I want and need him to be?
I replay the conversation in my head, trying to savor every second of it. I commit each moment to memory so that I can be sure.
“You’re everything to me now.”
I shudder as the echo of his words dance through my mind.
From the moment he sat down on my bed, I could see that Nate was a different man. He wasn’t as cold, wasn’t as distant.
For the first time, I could see the glimmer of a real person behind his godly body and dark, stormy eyes.
I want to take that glimmer and run with it. I’d run far away from all this—from LA, from New York…I want Nate to be the guy I remember him as, but I’m starting to think that no amount of distance—geographical or otherwise—is going to bring my first love back to me.
But perhaps there’s a chance this Nate is someone I can fall equally as hard for.
Maybe he’s not so bad.
Of course, I’m not stupid.
In the back of my mind, I’m still not convinced I can trust him—not yet.
This Nathan Sharp is the kind of man who doesn’t blink twice at kidnapping, or even murder.
If it hadn’t been my dad he—or his boss—had killed, and another girl was in my place, Nate wouldn’t even care. If murder comes too easily to him, then lying can’t be difficult either.
What if everything he says is just a ruse to get me to trust him? To stop me from wanting to run?
Then it’s working.
Being alone in the world is so tiring, and I can’t stay like this forever.
I dress in a silk robe and cross the room, holding fresh towels at my hip.
Unlike my en suite back in the mansion, the bathroom in Nate’s penthouse is somewhat colder—but not literally, the floor is heated from below and each step is like walking on a beach—but the décor is darker. I spot a large bathtub that occupies half the room and make my way towards it, my muscles aching for a soak.
I turn the hot water on. As steam rises throughout the room, I light some scented candles. The scent of black cherry and rose fills the air.
I take a deep breath, searching through the cabinets to try and find other accessories.
For a bachelor, Nate has a surprising selection of bubble bath and essential oils. Then I remember I’m probably not the first woman to ever draw a bath in this penthouse.
The image of another woman in my place stirs a feeling of hurt in my chest, and for a moment, it occurs to me that Nate might not even be single.
But then, I remember that steady relationships are not common in Nate’s line of work.
And he wouldn’t have said I was his everything if he didn’t fully mean it.
That much hasn’t changed. Nate is true to his word, and I can rely on him for that.
At least I hope I can.
He said he’d find a way to keep me safe, and I do believe him. But keeping me safe doesn’t mean keeping me prisoner—he’s not a beast, and I don’t need to be locked up in the penthouse as his princess.
We’ve travelled to the other side of the country to escape. How much farther are we going to have to go before I can be free? What else is it going to take?
When the bath is full, I shrug out of the robe and drop it to the floor. My lingerie and chemise fall to the ground beside it, a puddle of black satin and lace at my feet.
Naked, I walk over to the tub, dipping a toe into the bubbles to test the water.
When we first came here, Nate said he had cameras everywhere. I wonder if he meant in here, too. The idea of him watching me as a I sink into the tub, bubbles and bath oils clinging to my skin, stirs butterflies in my stomach.
If Nate was going to watch me in the bath, I’d much rather he did it from the other side of he tub.
I picture him in the bath opposite me, our legs entwined as the bubbles climb up his body. I imagine the way his chest would look as the bubbles slowly began to pop, fizzling away until he was fully exposed to me.
My imagination drops lower, from his chest to his abdomen—the way his ab muscles tense and flex as he leans in to pull me closer to him. My mind’s eye drifts even further down, to the ‘V’ of his hips and—
A noise from beyond the bathroom jolts me from my fantasy. I don’t know what it is. It sounds like a door slamming, but it’s enough to draw me back to reality. I try to shut my eyes to return to that happy place, but it’s gone.
For now.
Maybe one day I’ll get to experience the fantasy in person.
I lay my head back and look up at the ceiling, staring at my reflection in the immaculate tiling. I feel like a bird in a cage, distracting itself by staring in the mirror so that it doesn’t feel alone.
Nate is my distant owner who cares for me, but his company isn’t always be enough.
And we both know that what I really need is to stretch my wings and be free.
I need to try harder in convincing Nate.
Escape attempts aren’t doing the trick, and I don’t think that my constant anger at him is helping my case. He needs to think that it’s his own idea—or that if I do leave, there’s a chance I’ll come back to him regardless.
I would come back to him.
I’ve only just gotten my Nate back, I wouldn’t want to lose him again.
But I don’t want to have him at the cost of everyone else in my life. I can’t exchange my friends and family for my first love. It wouldn’t be fair.
My heart aches for my mom, and I wonder what she’s thinking about…if anyone else in my family has come to comfort her in my absence. Is she even looking for me?
Does Nate remember my mom? Can he remember her kind smile? Her warmth? Is he thinking about how much this must be hurting her, too? Does he feel guilty about what he’s done to her, how he’s torn her family apart—possibly forever?
If Nate won’t let me go for my own selfish reasons, then maybe I can convince him to let me go back and at least be with my mom. To comfort her, to let her know that she still has me, at least.
I’ll ask him at dinner. When we’re alone and Nate can be himself, he won’t say no to me.
I’ll talk to the Nathan I remember—not Nate, the mafia boss and hard-ass—and then he’ll give me my freedom. He knows how much being trapped here hurts me, and he won’t be able to bear keeping me locked up indefinitely.
I’ve been in the bath so long the water has begun to go cold. I turn the taps and fill up the tub once more.
I want to look good for dinner tonight, I want Nate to see me looking my best. So far, he’s only seen me terrified, in a ruined gown and muddy shoes, and in the clothes he put me in.
And naked. Briefly.
I wouldn’t mind him seeing me naked again.
Maybe even later tonight.
It’s even more of a reason that I want to look nice. I want to feel good. I scrub away the jet lag with a body wash and sugar scrub that smells like vanilla, until my skin tingles and I feel radiant.
I emerge from the bathroom in a haze of steam and candle smoke.
What to wear?
I drop the towel to the floor and wander towards the closet. No doubt Nate’s given me something appropriate to wear.
Then I spot it.
Strapless and floor length, but with a tulle train, a black evening gown hangs innocently in the closet. I take it immediately, holding the fabric up to my skin and relishing the softness.
It’s Gucci.