Page 37
I carefully pulled the blanket back over her shoulder and sat there, unwilling to pull my hand and wake her up.
I waited for her to let me go, but she never did, and eventually her breathing steadied and she fell into a deep sleep. So, I crawled into the bed, lay on my side, and faced her, my hand remaining under her cheek.
Listening to her steady breathing, I watched the rise and fall of her chest until sleep pulled me under.
FOURTEEN
TYRAN
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows as Sienna sat across from me, eating. Or rather, pretending to eat. Every few seconds, her fork clanked against the plate as she systematically butchered the sunny-side-up eggs, pork sausages, and shredded hash browns I’d made for her.
An Irish breakfast would put some meat on her bones if she actually ate it.
I sat opposite her with my iPad, pretending to be absorbed in it while I arranged everything for an expedited wedding that would begin with a confession at the local church today.
“How’s the food?” I asked without looking up.
“So good.”
Her fork clanked against the plate again.
“Did you have it delivered?”
“No. I cooked it.”
Her fork stopped moving and she lifted her gaze to me, then let out a strangled laugh.
“Oh.” She chewed on her bottom lip before she added, “Is it poisoned?”
“If it is, I’ll be dead soon,” I said as I set the iPad down and looked at her.
In the soft morning light, she almost looked like the old Sienna I’d first met at my sex club. Only somehow she looked even hotter, more tempting, more effortlessly desirable. She was wearing my white dress shirt that reached down to her knees. She wrapped one of my ties around her waist to make it look like a makeshift dress, and she looked exquisite with her face bare of makeup and her damp blonde hair cascading down her back.
I had her things, including her laptop—which she insisted she needed last night—brought over from the cottage first thing this morning, but I decided not to let her know so she’d wear my clothes for a bit longer.
“What do you mean?” she asked with a puzzled look.
“I ate the same thing.”
Her brows furrowed. “When?”
“Before you got up.” Her expression crumpled and I let out a sigh. This Sienna seemed a lot moodier than the one I’d known. “What is it, Sienna? You don’t like it?”
She rolled her eyes. “What was the point of forcing me to sleep in your bed if you weren’t going to wake me up while you cooked breakfast?”
I stared at her, confused. “Are you mad I made you breakfast?”
She pursed her lips, staring at my bare chest like she was studying it for her next hacking job. God knew she was really good at that.
“Sienna, answer me.”
Her eyes snapped to mine. “No, I’m mad you didn’t wake me up.”
“Did you want to cook with me?” The way her nose crinkled told me that wasn’t it. “Then what?”
Her whole posture deflated and her eyes lowered to her plate as she muttered, “I hate eating alone.”
I watched her and wondered if that was why she’d lost so much weight. According to the information I’d gathered, she’d been alone for the past five years. No visitors. No flings. No real, close friends.
