Sienna’s expression shifted, but only slightly.
He continued, “I need someone who will tell the truth in rooms where everyone else is paid not to. You seem qualified.”
“I also have knives.”
“I noticed.”
“And conditions.”
“Name them.”
“No touching unless I allow it. No romantic rumors unless I approve the wording. No entering my family’s life without permission. No surprise gifts. No buying my stall. No calling me inspiring. Men say that right before they ignore what women actually asked for.”
Julian nodded. “Agreed.”
“And if your mother insults me again, I get to answer.”
“You answered very well the first time.”
“That was my polite version.”
For the first time since the ballroom, Julian smiled fully.
Sienna looked annoyed by it.
“What?” she snapped.
“You’re not afraid of her.”
“Oh, I’m afraid of everyone who can ruin my rent with a phone call. I just don’t think fear deserves to drive.”
He stared at her.
A memory flashed so suddenly he almost lost his breath.
Rain. Broken glass. A woman’s hand pressing against his ribs. A voice saying, Don’t sleep just because pain asks nicely.
He blinked it away.
Sienna noticed.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not a nothing face.”
“I was in an accident three years ago.”
“Good for the accident. It gets a backstory.”
He should have laughed.
He could not.
“There was a woman at the scene. A volunteer medic, maybe. I never found her.”
Sienna’s hand paused on the folder.
Only for a second.
Then she closed it.
“Maybe she didn’t want to be found.”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe life found her first.”
The words hit too close to be accidental.
Julian studied her.
Her left wrist was covered by a black elastic brace.
He had no right to ask.
So he did not.
Sienna tapped the folder. “My lawyer reads this before I sign anything.”
“Of course.”
“My lawyer is my cousin Mateo, who mostly handles food truck permits and one very ugly divorce.”
“I’ll pay for an independent attorney too.”
“Mateo will enjoy hating that.”
“Fair.”
“And the market trust is real? Not some publicity donation with your face on a giant check?”
“Real.”
“No plaques.”
“No plaques.”
“No speech about lifting communities.”
“No speech.”
“No white dress charity gala where people eat tiny crab cakes and congratulate themselves for noticing poor people.”
Julian paused. “There was going to be a gala.”
Sienna pointed at him. “No.”
“I’ll cancel the gala.”
“You are trainable.”
Ninety days.
That was the agreement.
Ninety days of appearing beside Julian Voss while his mother tried to prove he had lost his mind, while financial news channels debated whether rebellion was bad for shareholder confidence, while strangers argued online about Sienna’s clothes, hair, voice, accent, and the “type” of woman who stood beside a billionaire after midnight.
Sienna hated all of it.
She especially hated that Julian seemed to hate it too.
That made him harder to dismiss.
He arrived early to meetings and left late. He learned vendor names. He asked questions and listened to answers. When an executive presented “harbor modernization,” Sienna looked at the relocation budget and said, “This is not relocation. This is eviction with better font.”
The room froze.
Julian turned to the executive.
“Revise it.”
His mother, seated at the end of the conference table, smiled coldly.
“Since when does a fish seller dictate development strategy?”
Sienna folded her hands. “Since the development strategy forgot people eat after they get priced out.”
A young analyst coughed into his fist.
Isadora’s eyes narrowed.
Julian did not rescue Sienna.
He did something better.
He backed her.
“Bring us a plan that keeps the market intact,” he said. “Real leases. Real protections. Real infrastructure. Not decorative poverty for tourists.”
The executive glanced at Isadora.
Julian’s voice cooled. “Do not look at my mother for permission while answering me.”
That was the moment the company understood something had changed.
That was also the moment Isadora Voss stopped treating Sienna as an irritation and began treating her as a threat.
The attacks became elegant.
A stylist arrived at Sienna’s apartment with dresses she had not requested.
Sienna sent him away with a box of sardines and a note that read: I dress myself.
An etiquette coach appeared at the stall.
Sienna taught her how to clean mussels.
A gossip columnist published a story about Sienna’s younger sister Lucia receiving “mysterious funding.”
Julian had the publication retract it by dinner and apologized to Lucia in person.
Lucia looked him over and said, “You’re taller on television.”
Sienna nearly choked on coffee.
Julian said, “I get that a lot.”
“No, you don’t,” Sienna said.
“No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”
The world expected them to look mismatched.