Chapter Four

Caiden

Some people worked late because deadlines demanded it.

Others worked late because they enjoyed the silence.

Sienna Brooks worked late because she didn't know how not to. By seven-thirty, the executive floor had emptied.

At eight, the cleaning crew made their rounds.

By nine, the only lights still glowing behind the glass walls belonged to two offices. Mine, and hers.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose before turning another page.Five years of contracts. Five years of acquisitions narrowly avoided. Five years of partnerships that could've ended BrooksWell before it ever became what it was today.

Every major agreement bore the same signature.

Sienna Brooks. She read everything herself.Every amendment, clause and renewal. No assistant or legal proxy or delegation.Control wasn't just important to her.

It was oxygen.I wondered if she trusted anyone.

My eyes drifted toward the glass wall separating our temporary offices.She hadn't moved in twenty minutes. One elbow rested on her desk, her forehead balanced against two fingers as she stared at her monitor. A mug sat forgotten beside her keyboard.

She looked tired. Not weak or overwhelmed. Simply exhausted in the way people became when they carried more than anyone realized. A notification chimed from my laptop. 9:17 p.m.My stomach growled.

"Finally," I muttered. I shut the last folder and slipped it into my bag. As I walked past her office, I noticed she hadn't even looked up. Her entire world had shrunk to spreadsheets and projections. She'll burn herself out before forty. Not my concern.

I pressed the elevator button. The Italian restaurant on the ground floor was one of the building's better ideas. Soft jazz floated through the room. The dinner crowd had thinned, leaving only a handful of tables occupied by tired professionals pretending they weren't still thinking about work. Exactly my kind of place.

"Table for one?" the hostess asked.

"Please."

She led me toward a booth near the windows. I ordered grilled salmon, sparkling water, and, against my better judgment, garlic bread. My mother would've called it balance. My doctor would've called it unnecessary. The waiter had just walked away when the restaurant door opened again. I glanced up. Of course. Sienna.

For a split second, she didn't notice me. She looked almost different. The severe blazer from this morning was gone. In its place was a navy sweater thrown over a simple white blouse, the sleeves pushed carelessly to her elbows. Her hair had escaped whatever disciplined style she'd started the day with, loose strands framing her face. She looked younger. Less like a CEO. More like someone who hadn't seen daylight in twelve hours.

Then she saw me. She stopped walking. Her shoulders stiffened. Interesting. She looked toward the exit. Was she actually considering leaving? Surely not. The hostess approached her.

"Table for one?"

"Yes."

The hostess smiled politely. "We do have another guest from your office if you'd prefer..."

"No." The answer came so quickly a couple at the next table looked up. Sienna blinked. Realizing she'd answered a touch too loudly.

"I mean..." She cleared her throat. "A separate table is fine."

The hostess nodded without missing a beat. "Of course."

As Sienna followed her across the room, I looked back down at the menu. There was no point pretending I hadn't heard. There was also no point embarrassing her by acknowledging it. She'd done that well enough herself.

A minute later, the waiter returned to my table with my food in hand.

"Thank you." I nodded.

"Yes."

As he placed the food on the table, he looked discreetly at Sienna then turned to me. "You two aren't...?"

"No."

"Work together?"

"Unfortunately." The word escaped before I could stop it.

The waiter laughed.

"So she said." I smiled despite myself.

"Then I suppose we're in agreement."

I spent most of it reading through notes on tomorrow's review schedule. Halfway through my meal, movement caught my eye. Not intentionally. Simply because she stood. Sienna walked toward the self-service drinks station carrying an empty glass. She filled it. Turned. And nearly collided with a young server rushing from the kitchen. The server stumbled. A tray tilted.

Sienna reacted instantly, grabbing one edge before several glasses crashed to the floor. Only one shattered. The restaurant went quiet.

"I'm so, so sorry," the young server said, clearly horrified.

"It was my fault."

"It wasn't," Sienna replied immediately. "I should've watched where I was going."

"You were standing still."

"I distracted you."

"No, you didn't." The poor girl looked seconds away from tears. Sienna crouched without hesitation and began gathering the larger pieces of broken glass.

A manager hurried over. "Ms., please don't..."

"It's fine." She reached for another shard.

"Leave it." I was already beside her.

She looked up. Annoyance flashed across her face. "Go away."

"No."

"I said—"

"The staff have gloves." She froze.

I nodded toward the glittering fragments. "You don't."

For one stubborn second, I genuinely thought she was going to argue. Over broken glass. Instead, she slowly stood. The manager thanked us repeatedly before ushering the server away. Sienna folded her arms. "I didn't need rescuing."

"I wasn't rescuing you."

"You stepped in."

"So you wouldn't cut your hand."

"I would've been careful."

"I'm sure."

Her chin lifted slightly. That tiny movement again. Pride. Always pride. I studied her for a moment.

"You know..."

She waited.

"I've noticed something."

"I'm not interested."

"I don't think you know how to let other people help."

Her expression cooled several degrees. "I don't need help."

"Everyone does."

"I don't."

"That's statistically impossible."

"I'll be the exception."

There it was. Not confidence. Strong conviction. As if accepting the smallest kindness cost more than she was willing to pay. It made me wonder. Who had taught her that? Who had convinced her the safest way through life was alone? Because people weren't born believing that. They learned it. Somewhere. Somehow.

She held my gaze, daring me to challenge her again. I didn't. Not because I'd lost interest, but because I had the distinct feeling that whatever made Sienna Brooks so fiercely independent wasn't something she'd tell a lawyer she'd known for less than four days.

"Enjoy your dinner, Ms. Brooks." I returned to my table before she could answer. When my check arrived twenty minutes later, I stood to leave. As I passed her table, she was still working. Laptop open. Fork forgotten. Pasta growing cold. I almost told her to take a night off. Instead, I kept walking. She wouldn't have listened anyway. The elevator doors closed between us.

For reasons I couldn't explain, one thought followed me all the way home. She wore pride like armor. The question wasn't whether it protected her. It was what it was protecting her from.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***