Chapter 28
Sienna‘s pov
"Hey! What the hell are you doing out here?"
Luna Reed planted herself in front of Harrison Blackwood, blocking him like sheer anger could outweigh money and power. "You’ve already got Elena Whitmore at home. So why are you dragging Sienna Price back too? You think you’re some kind of king, keeping both of you?"
A bitter smile tugged at my mouth.
He was. And I was one of his possessions.
If Harrison wanted me home, then I went. I’d fought him long enough to learn what resistance bought me—nothing but consequences.
"Luna," I said, keeping my voice low, "go back. Don’t worry about me."
I reached up and held Harrison’s shoulder, leaning into him like I needed him, like I’d chosen this. He liked me compliant.
But I did it for Luna, not for him.
"Let’s go inside," I added. "I’m tired."
His jaw was hard and clean-cut when I looked up. My eyes still got caught there, and it made me furious.
He ignored Luna and carried me into the Blackwood Estate.
"Sienna!"
The door shut and Luna’s shout died behind it.
Elena sat on the couch.
I didn’t look at her, but I felt her stare anyway, slick with poison, following the way Harrison held me. He didn’t even pretend to mind.
"Harrison," Elena said softly, sweet as sugar, "I really like the dress you had made for me. Will you come with me to try it on?"
He stopped.
My chest tightened, quick and humiliating.
He always said yes to her.
"Alright," he said, gentle. "Go get ready. I’ll be right there."
But he didn’t put me down.
He carried me to the bedroom, set me on the bed, and reached for the large gift box by the wardrobe.
I already knew.
"Your lover’s waiting," I said, cold enough to cut.
He opened the box, lifted out the gown, and laid it across the bed with care. His voice was flat. "Try it on. Now."
A woman’s evening gown. Elegant. Expensive. Meant to be displayed.
I didn’t move. "So what then? You watch me, then go watch Elena? Do you really think you’re a king?"
"I’m not saying it again."
His face darkened. "Sienna. Remember your situation."
I bit my lip, stood, grabbed the gown, and headed for the bathroom.
"Here," he said.
He didn’t step closer, but I froze anyway.
"It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before." His tone dipped. "What are you hiding from? Hm?"
Heat crawled up my spine as memories flashed, unwanted and vivid. My hand shook around the fabric.
"Harrison," I said through my teeth, "give me some respect."
Even now, I wanted one boundary. One small thing that was still mine.
His heavy sigh came from behind me, like my pride exhausted him.
He took the gown from my hand, unzipped it, and set it aside. Then his hands went to my clothes.
Before I could twist away, he stepped in and caught my arms from behind, locking me in place. "Respect?" he murmured. "In front of me?"
His movements weren’t rough. His voice was almost calm. It still cut straight through me.
"Trading pride for money has worked out well for you," he said. "So why pretend you need it?"
My clothes slid off piece by piece. Cold air hit my skin and raised goosebumps along my arms.
'Don’t beg.'
"Do what I say," he continued, "and you’ll have what you want."
I stopped fighting.
I let him dress me in the gown, let him pull it snug over my body, let him zip it up like he was sealing me shut.
He’d crushed my dignity again—quietly, efficiently, without breaking a sweat.
He forced me to live under the same roof as Elena, and he used the hands that touched her to undress me, and he made sure I couldn’t refuse.
Was this revenge, or was it simply who he was?
He brought me to the mirror.
The gown fit perfectly, cinching my waist, shaping my chest. Harrison knew my body too well; he didn’t need measurements to control it.
"You look gorgeous," he said.
Then his mouth came down on my collarbone.
A sharp shiver tore through me, edged with pain. His teeth bit, and when he lifted his head, a bruise was already blooming there, dark and purple. Tiny beads of blood surfaced.
Neither of us wiped them away.
He lifted my chin, forcing my gaze to our reflection.
"I know what you did today," he said. "And who you met."
My body went rigid, tremor starting in my hands.
"Sienna." His tone stayed even. "How about I give you a chance to leave me?"
Our eyes met in the mirror.
He looked like he was joking.
I couldn’t breathe like it was.
"After the ball," he said, "if you satisfy me, I’ll agree to divorce you."
I shut my eyes. "Really?"
Not long ago, he refused. Like it was impossible.
"Depends on how satisfied I am."
His rough thumb brushed my cheek as he leaned closer, close enough that I could feel his heat in my bones.
"I warned you," he said, "not to get too close to Julian Vane."
So that was it.
Everything tonight—because I’d met Julian.
"We’re work colleagues," I said.
He paused. Then he bit the back of my neck hard enough to make me gasp, and his voice turned warning-smooth. "Work colleagues, but he paid your mother’s medical bills. Sienna, are you stupid or—"
He didn’t finish.
He kept biting, moving lower, and his hands turned greedy: one sliding my zipper down, the other roaming over my chest like he was marking territory.
This was spiraling.
I fought him, pushing, twisting, trying to wrench away, but my arms were pinned at my waist.
"What do you want from me?" I snapped, breath shaking. "One moment you say you’ll let me go, the next you won’t let me near him. And you—"
He was gentle with Elena, then he turned around and did this to me, controlling my life from every angle.
Why did I have to take it?
I’d had enough of the warmth he gave her and the cold he saved for me.
But he didn’t let me finish.
He gave in completely, stripped the gown off me, and shoved me down onto the bed.
The door wasn’t locked. Elena could walk in at any moment.
My struggle was useless, as always. It only made him harsher, more relentless, like my resistance fed whatever he refused to name.
Then Harrison looked at me.
The shift in his eyes hit me like a fist—restraint, conflict, pain, resentment, and beneath it, almost invisible, something that looked like affection.
'Don’t believe it.'
"Sienna," he said, voice rough, "this is the last time."
"After the ball, I’ll let you go." His jaw flexed. "You and Nora Everly will leave New Haven. And you’ll never come back."
It sounded like a decision ripped out of him, not offered.
Martha Wilson’s words flashed through my mind, uninvited.
"Harrison," I whispered, "tell me the truth. Do you—"
He kissed me before I could finish—hard, almost desperate, and beneath the force of it, I felt him hesitate. Just for a second. Like he was fighting something he was already losing.
My remaining words disappeared into his mouth.
And whatever he couldn’t say stayed buried there.