Chapter 6 She walked to me as if her bones were made of glass, but she was too stubborn to admit it might make her shatter. I could read her like a book, whether she wanted me to or not. She wanted to bolt. Her jaw was tight, her hand wound tight around the back of the chair, her gaze was struggling to hold mine. But she came. That alone earned my respect all over again. The way her flowy, little, navy-blue dress hugged her body, made me clench my teeth to keep from acting out in a room full of strangers. It wasn't anything remarkable, but on her, it was sinful. It clung to her curves and cinched in at the waist, dipping low enough to tease the freckle just beneath her collarbone. The one I'd noticed when I was inside of her for the third time on Flight 417 from ATL to NAP, the same one I'd dragged my tongue over. Her skin was a little deeper from what I could only imagine was the Amalfi sun, golden in a way that begged to be touched. I fought the images back as if they'd pull me under a rip current if I didn't. "Hello, Sienna," I said, my voice as even as I could will it to be, a little grin breaking across my lips. "Thanks for the drinks," she deadpanned. "I didn't send them." Her eyes narrowed. "Cut the shit." I tilted my head, letting the corner of my mouth twitch. "You wound me." "'Thanks for flying first class'? You might as well have signed it with your dick." I snorted, the words catching me fully off guard, laughter creeping up my throat. Why was she so good at that? "I was being polite." "You were being you," she said, releasing her death grip on the chair to cross her arms over her chest. "You were trying to get under my skin." "I wasn't," I said, not a hint of a lie. I gestured casually to the seat across from me, the one she'd held onto, but she didn't move. She narrowed her eyes, though. "You knew." I pressed my lips together, rolling them between my teeth. "Knew what?" "Don't-" She cut herself off, taking a deep inhale through her nose as her gaze flicked to the ceiling before landing back on me, somehow sharper, somehow angrier. "You knew who I was-or, am." I met her stare and held it. "I didn't." A bitter laugh poured out of her. "Oh, come on, Matt⁠-" "I'm serious," I said, cutting her off. "I didn't know your name until I looked up the flight manifest a week ago. Before that, all I had was Sienna. No last name. No context." Her jaw went crooked, her tongue working something in her mouth as her nails dug into her arm. "I'm supposed to believe that?" "I have no reason to lie. If I wanted to sleep with the woman my brother was with for almost two years, I wouldn't have needed to hide who I am." Her eye twitched. "You're so fucking cocky⁠-" "I genuinely didn't know," I reiterated, cutting off her insult. "I hadn't seen Ryan in months. We barely speak, and I'd never met you. He'd said your name, what, twice? It wasn't at the front of my mind." Her throat worked, and for a split second, I felt bad about mentioning how little Ryan spoke of her. But I wanted to get this out there. "I had no idea he had planned a trip to Italy, let alone with you," I continued, sitting forward in my chair. "I didn't know he'd booked it until I looked at the original booking information and saw the change in the reservation, with his name, and the card he used." She stiffened, her brows narrowing. "His card?" "My card. I recognized the last four digits. It was the card for the support account I set up for him. So, you're welcome." I held her gaze as I leaned forward onto my elbows on the table. "Your vacation came out of my wallet." Sienna blinked, her body recoiling just a tad. I'd rattled her. "Wait, what? Go back. What do you mean by support?" I sighed, trying to work out how to explain it. It didn't surprise me that he hadn't told her where that money came from, but it did make my blood boil. "Money I send him to keep him from spiraling," I said carefully. "He burns through cash like it's gasoline, Sienna. When it runs out, he calls me. Always has, always will." Her brows furrowed as she stared at me, the gears in her head turning so obviously that I could see them whirring. "You didn't know that, did you?" "I thought-" she hesitated, trying to find the words, then scowled. "I thought he was spending what he had left after you screwed him out of the inheritance." I exhaled sharply through my nose. "Of course you did." "Are you saying that's not true?" "I'm saying Ryan has a very convenient relationship with the truth," I said. Her arms dropped, her chest rising as she took in a slow, shaky breath. "So, what, you're just some generous brother who gives away money to the sibling who hates him? That's your story?" I exhaled, trying not to let my irritation get in the way of the truth. "It's not a story, Sienna. It's what happens every few months. More often recently. But whether you believe me or not is entirely up to you." Her jaw tightened, but she didn't say anything. "I'd rather you believe me," I added, my voice lower, more deliberate. "But maybe before you lob another accusation at me, you should ask yourself why you're trusting the man who cheated on you for a year, instead of me." That landed. I felt the shift, saw the way it flickered across her face. "Yeah. I spoke to him last week. He told me," I continued. "You believe him, even after everything he did. But I lied to you once-unintentionally and by omission-and I'm the villain?" The answering silence was deafening. She looked down, then away, her breathing shaky and her fingers twitching like she needed to either throw something or tear it in two. Even frustrated, she looked striking enough to make a grown man drop to his knees. "I get it," I said carefully, sitting back again in my chair. "You feel played. But I wasn't playing." Her eyes flicked to mine again, but there was something unreadable in them. Not softness, but something confused. Something conflicted. I could work with that. But she started to shut it down before I could even mention it. "I'm not doing this again," she said, her voice breathy as she took a single step back. And then another. "Whatever this is. I've seen this movie, the ending fucking sucks." I didn't move. I didn't reach for her. Just held her gaze steady as she took one more step back, and then opened my mouth. "Ryan's marrying her," I said. She stopped dead in her tracks. "I'm sorry," I said. I meant it. "I assume you didn't know." Her mouth pressed into a thin line as she stared at me, the heaviness sinking in. "He's marrying Lauren?" she asked. "Please tell me you're kidding." "I wish I were." "Wow," she said, almost nodding to herself. "Well, I hope they get gifted matching toasters and trip into a full bathtub holding hands." I let out a quiet breath of laughter. "That's disturbingly specific." She looked off into the distance, those gears whirring again, her mouth locked tight. Then took a step toward me. "Why would you tell me that, Matt?" I blinked. "Because you deserve to know." "No," she snapped. "No, you don't get to sit there like some noble, morally grey antihero who drops information like that because he cares. That doesn't make sense. You don't know me, you don't owe me anything." "You're right. I don't." "Then why?" "Because I have a proposition," I said, my lips twitching up at the corner. "One that benefits us both." "If you're about to offer another distraction⁠-" "I'm not," I said casually, motioning for the seat across from me again. She still didn't take it, but she took another step forward. "I want you to come with me to the wedding." That step she'd taken was immediately reversed as she recoiled. "What?" "Be my date. Officially, publicly, whatever the hell you want to call it. You and me, front, and center, on their day." She stared at me like I'd started speaking another language that didn't exist. "You're joking." "I'm not," I smirked. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in front of Ryan." "And Lauren," I clarified. "It takes at least two to get married." "I know how a marriage works," she scoffed, taking that step forward again like it meant nothing. "Why on earth would I want to do that? Why would I want to see him-either of them-again after what he put me through?" "Because I'll pay you a hundred thousand dollars." Her lips parted, then closed, then parted again. "What the hell kind of man⁠-" "One who's tired of letting his little brother ruin everything he touches," I huffed, cutting her off. "One who has nothing to prove to Ryan, but plenty to gain from watching him squirm. And one who happens to think you deserve to get to make him feel small." Sienna's throat worked as she took another step forward, and then another, closer now than she'd been before as she leaned forward onto the table. It took every bit of control not to let my eyes wander down to where the top hem of her dress was gaping from the position. "Do you genuinely think I'm going to parade around my ex's wedding as a prop just for a check?" "No," I said, quieter now, leaning forward onto my elbows and closing the distance just a little bit more. I could smell her - that same scent from the flight, light, floral, and sweet, with a hint of something sharp underneath. "I think you're going to consider it. I think you know it's not about the money. And more importantly, I think you understand that it's about the look on his face when he sees you happy, thriving, and wanted on my arm." Her chest rose and fell like she'd run a mile. I kept my gaze locked on hers. "I don't trust you," she rasped. "That's fair." "I think you're cold. And calculating, and maybe a little bit full of shit." I shrugged. "You're not wrong." "Why on earth should I believe anything out of your mouth?" I didn't blink. "Because I'm not trying to do anything to you, Sienna. I'm giving you an option and a reward. And because, if it truly makes you feel better, I'll swear on my son's life that this isn't about getting you back into bed, and instead is about getting us both a little closure." Her brows knitted. "You have a son?" It was horrifically unsurprising to me that Ryan had never mentioned him. "Zach. He's five." She stared at me incredulously. "You have a kid?" I rolled my eyes. "Do you want me to get out my phone and show you photos?" She held my gaze for what felt like hours, her eyes flicking between mine, studying me like I was a riddle she could solve. "You're serious." "About the offer or about my kid?" A little crease formed between her brows. "Both." "Yes, I'm serious." The silence that lingered coiled tight, like charged static flicking between us. I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out a card, and slid it across the table to her. Slowly, her gaze dropped, her fingers closing around it slowly as she read the two lines of information written on it: my full name and my personal phone number. "Seriously? Metal?" she scoffed, turning it over in her hands like it personally offended her. "That's, like, next level asshole-ery." I snorted. "I'm sorry, would you have preferred I'd printed it off on a standard eight-by-eleven and folded it?" "You could have just written it on a napkin like a normal person in a bar," she mumbled. "I'll keep it in mind next time I'm offering a hundred grand to make my brother feel half as small as he made you," I chuckled. "Just think about it, Sienna. You don't have to answer right away. The wedding's in three weeks, you've got a little time." "I hate you," she grunted, pushing back upright with the card solidly in her palm. My smirk turned into a full grin. "No, you don't."