Chapter 3 Unannounced Visits

Raymond Carter had just gotten out of the hot shower and was drying off when he heard a quiet knock on his door.

He stopped for a moment, water running down his chest and hair curling up near his temples. He wasn't expecting anyone, and particularly not this early. A tight coil of dread developed in his stomach as he went toward the door, clutching the towel against his hip with one hand and wiping the fog from the mirror near the threshold with the other.

Another knock. Strong and sure.

He let her in.

And there she was.

Sienna Dean stood at his doorway, looking perfect in a cream silk shirt tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged her hips. Her black hair fell over her shoulders, and her hazel eyes glinted with something he couldn't interpret as they swept over his naked chest and down to the towel that barely clung to his hips.

Her lips bent slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes. "I see you're busy."

Raymond's throat clenched as he grasped the edge of the door, attempting to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She strolled by him without waiting for an invitation. The smell of warm vanilla and something sharper followed her as she moved into the living room, her heels pounding on the wooden floor.

"I needed to discuss urgent business," she continued, casually, as if she hadn't just walked in on him half-naked.

He turned, watching her evaluate his living area with the clinical detachment of someone hunting for weaknesses. She halted at his glass shelf, brushing her fingers across the edge, eyes wandering over the few framed images and minimalist furnishings.

"Urgent business?" he echoed, holding the towel harder.

She turned to face him, leaning against the shelf, crossing her arms under her breasts, which just pushed them higher, attracting his gaze before he pulled them back to her face.

"Yes," she answered, her voice light, but her stare sharp as a sword. "A new project you're pitching next week. I want to ensure you don't embarrass my company again."

His jaw clenched. "You came here to discuss a pitch? At seven in the morning?"

She arched a brow. "You're on my time now, Raymond."

He clenched his jaw, the impulse to dispute building, but he bit it back, swallowing hard as her eyes travelled over him again. The silence stretched the only sound the distant bustle of the metropolis beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows.

Raymond turned away, having to put on clothing before he lost whatever was left of his composure. "I need to get dressed."

"Oh, don't mind me," she whispered softly.

He hesitated, glancing back to see her watching him, gaze unflinching, a faint, amused smile on her lips.

His breath caught, bewilderment and something deeper churning in his chest. Was this a green light? Was she playing with him? The way her eyes lingered on his skin made something hot and deadly spark between them, evoking memories he attempted to ignore.

Shaking his head, he moved into the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him, leaning his back against it as he exhaled deeply. His heart thudded in his chest, her presence lingering like perfume in the air.

***

Later That Day

Raymond was still uncomfortable when he arrived at the office. He couldn't shake the image of Sienna in his flat, the way she had stared at him, the unspoken tension sizzling between them. It was dangerous, the way his body still responded to her, even after everything, even after the humiliation she had made him endure in the boardroom.

He spent the day buried in work, unwilling to let himself think about her. But as the dusk light softened over Manhattan, painting the skyline in shades of gold and violet, his phone buzzed with a message.

Sienna Dean: My residence. 8 PM. We need to discuss your pitch. Do not be late.

His pulse soared. He stared at the message for a long period, confusion and desire battling inside him.

A part of him shouted to refuse, to regain control of whatever shreds of dignity he had left.

But another part, the one that remembered the feel of her skin, the taste of her kisses, the warmth of her body, overruled him.

At 7:50 PM, Raymond found himself standing outside her penthouse, high above the city, the lights of Manhattan glittering below. He raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could.

And his breath caught.

Sienna stood there, completely naked, her caramel-toned skin shimmering in the soft light of the chandelier, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, framing her breasts, her nipples stiff in the cool air, her curves a tribute to everything he had lost.

She inclined her head slightly, her lips twisting into a faint, unreadable smile. "You're early."

Raymond's mouth went dry, his eyes unwilling to leave her, every sensible thought melting away as heat pooled low in his gut. "Sienna-"

"I was about to take a shower," she said quietly, turning away, her hips swaying as she walked into the bathroom, her bare feet silent against the marble floor. "Make yourself comfortable."

The door to the bathroom closed quietly behind her, leaving him standing there, bewildered, need scorching through him like wildfire.

***

The Portrait

Raymond forced himself to breathe, drawing his eyes away from where she had disappeared. He strolled into the living room, eyes searching the place, taking in the costly furniture and the aroma of vanilla and fresh lilies filling the air.

His attention was drawn to a photograph on the side table.

He froze.

It was a painting of a young kid, maybe four or five, with wavy brown hair and brilliant hazel-blue eyes that seemed to gleam with mischief and innocence.

Raymond's heart stopped.

The eyes.

Those eyes.

They were his.

His chest squeezed painfully as he stepped closer, taking in every aspect of the boy's face, the small dimple on the left cheek, the way his smile skewed slightly, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Memories crashed into him:

The day she had told him she was pregnant, tears were in her eyes. The envelope of cash he had thrust into her hands, urging her to take care of it. The coldness in her eyes as she walked away, clutching the money, the last bit of him she had taken with her.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the edge of the frame, his breath coming in thin gasps.

Could it be?

No. She had informed him she had aborted the child. She had said the baby was gone.

But the youngster in the painting-

The sound of the shower stopped.

Raymond pulled back, turning as Sienna emerged out of the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around her body, water shimmering on her skin, her hair damp and curling over her neck.

Her eyes went to the painting, then back to him, her expression shuttering instantaneously.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, her voice steely, the tenderness gone.

He swallowed hard. "Who is he?"

Her jaw stiffened, her gaze narrowing. "That's none of your business."

"Sienna-"

She stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with rage. "I said it's none of your business, Raymond."

He clenched his fists, his heart hammering. "Is he-"

"No." Her voice was bland and definitive. "You lost the right to ask me anything the day you handed me that envelope and told me to erase him."

His breath hitched, the memories piercing through him like a razor. "Sienna, please-"

"Leave," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

He peered at her, searching her eyes for something, anything, that would tell him the truth.

But all he saw was pain.

Slowly, he nodded, moving away, his footsteps echoing in the still apartment as he went, the door closing softly behind him.

***

Sienna stayed there for a long minute, the towel pulled firmly around her as she peered at the door he had just walked through.

Her legs felt weak, and she stumbled toward the couch, sliding onto it, burying her face in her hands as the sobs fell, hot and quiet.

She had built this life for herself, brick by brick, fighting tooth and nail to rise from the ashes he had left her in. She had constructed a world where she was powerful and impenetrable, where no guy could ever hurt her again.

But watching him glance at the image of Sam, seeing the confusion, the hope, and the remorse in his eyes, had broken something inside her.

She slapped her hand to her mouth, swallowing back a sob.

She had made her decisions.

She had chosen to keep Sam, to give him a life, to protect him from the guy who had once wanted him eliminated.

But in that moment, a part of her wished she could go back, just for a moment, to the days when she had believed in love when she had believed in him.

She dried her tears, pushing herself to rise, to breathe, and to become the woman she had battled to be.

She would not let Raymond Carter back into her life.

She would not let him near Sam.

She would not let him destroy the new love she had found.

She would not let herself break again.