Chapter 88
Sienna's pov
I followed his gaze.
At a table by the window sat three people who could have passed for a family. One woman had her back to us, yet the slope of her shoulders and the cut of her hair looked familiar in a way that tugged at my memory without giving me a name.
Across from her were a man and a woman who looked unmistakably like a couple. The woman was dressed like a socialite, composed and glossy, the kind of elegance that briefly reminded me of Catherine Blackwood. The man didn’t smile; his lips were pressed into a thin line, and even sitting still he radiated authority.
“Nothing. Let’s go.” Julian Vane stepped into my line of sight, blocking my view with his broad chest. He didn’t crowd me, but the message was clear: don’t look.
I didn’t argue. I followed the waiter to the end of the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the light was softer and the table felt removed from the rest of the room. Sunlight slipped through the glass and warmed the dried flowers in the vase, turning them almost gentle.
The dishes arrived one after another. I poured grape juice into two glasses, lifted mine, and smiled politely. “It’s more sincere to thank you in person, Mr. Vane. Not just for the radio drama, but for everything lately. Thank you.”
“Saying thank you is too formal, Sienna.” His fingers traced the rim of his glass. The dark red juice looked like wine in the light. “I don’t want your gratitude.”
His gaze held me a second too long, and I lowered mine to the plate. I still heard him clearly when he spoke again.
“Stop rejecting me. Give me a chance to stay by your side.”
I hated that a part of me wanted to believe him. Julian was gentle and considerate, but he was also careful in the way he measured people, and I couldn’t afford to confuse that attention for something safe.
I took a sip, buying myself a moment. “Not rejecting you doesn’t mean I’ll accept you, Mr. Vane. I’m not a good woman. I won’t be a homemaker like Elena Whitmore, living around a husband. And I’m tangled up with two men right now. Are you really willing to stay with someone like me?”
Some things had to be said plainly, not to shock him, but to keep myself honest.
Julian’s smile deepened, calm and unreadable. “The girl who gives up everything for love is the most foolish.”
The words tightened my throat before I could swallow them down.
Then he continued, almost gently, as if he’d meant to cut and soothe in the same breath. “But the girl who chooses to leave the one she loves and live for herself instead—don’t you think she’s dazzling?”
I pushed the plate of foie gras toward him. “Enough. Eat.”
A low laugh slipped from him as he picked up his fork, letting the subject drop with practiced ease. “After you rest a little longer, we’ll set your audition.”
He’d said before he wanted to make me a star, and over the past month the preparations had been moving forward like an engine I couldn’t stop even if I tried.
“I understand,” I said. “I’ll do my best.”
I couldn’t waste an opportunity like this. I wanted to surpass Elena, and I wanted Harrison Blackwood to regret the way he’d discarded me like I was nothing.
“I said I’m not going back! Don’t think you can marry me off to anyone!”
The restaurant had been quiet, and the shout cracked through it. I stiffened, my head turning before my mind caught up.
That voice belonged to Vanya Vane.
She stood at the table Julian had watched when we came in, face flushed, eyes bright with fury. The man beside her reached for her arm.
“Shut up,” he said, voice rough with command. “What kind of behavior is this?”
Vanya yanked away. “If you dragged me here to sell me to another man, there’s nothing to talk about. I’m never going back to the Vane family home again!”
I was already standing, my chair scraping the floor.
“Sienna.” Julian caught my wrist, firm but controlled. He shook his head once. “Don’t go. She can handle it.”
“Let go.” I twisted free. “Didn’t you say you wanted to introduce me to your father? Perfect. Let’s meet him.”
Vanya had stood up for me before, even against Harrison. I couldn’t watch her be treated like a bargaining chip.
Julian followed, his jaw set.
“The Reed family is wealthy,” the man—Theodore Vane—was saying when we reached them, his tone cold and humiliating. “Marrying into it won’t be a loss for you. Don’t forget you’re a divorced woman. Do you still expect to marry well? Stop dreaming.”
My stomach turned. “So what if she’s divorced?” I cut in, voice sharp enough to draw more attention. “Does that mean she can’t earn her own money or take care of herself? If you despise your own daughter this much, do you even deserve to be a father?”
Theodore’s eyes flicked with surprise. I pulled Vanya behind me, feeling her tremble through her sleeve.
“Sienna,” she whispered, urgent, “don’t. I can handle it.”
“You’re my friend,” I said without turning back. “How could I not get involved?”
Theodore’s gaze fixed on me, heavy with warning. “Sienna Price. Mind your own business. For Julian’s sake, I won’t argue with you.”
Julian stepped forward, placing himself between us. In front of his parents, he looked different—tighter, as if he’d learned long ago what it cost to push back.
“Father,” Julian said, “put the marriage alliance on hold. You know what Vanya went through. You know she was abused.”
The socialite woman at the table flinched, hands lifting as if she could press the scene back into place. “Stop making a scene. Vanya is our daughter. Of course we want her to marry well.”
“Mom,” Julian said, restrained, “she’s doing fine now.”
Theodore’s attention snapped back to me, and whatever thin restraint he’d had disappeared. “You’re still defending this woman?” He pointed at me, anger blazing. “She was Harrison Blackwood’s wife. You’re disgracing the Vane family!”
My nails bit into my palms. I forced myself not to move.
“Father,” Julian said, and his voice didn’t bend, “I like her.”
The words landed cleanly, like a decision made in advance. “Harrison didn’t cherish her,” he added, eyes gone cold. “I’m not like him.”
Theodore’s face twisted. He grabbed a glass and threw it.
Grape juice splashed across my cheek, sweet and sharp. The glass struck Julian, not me, because he was still in front of me.
“You idiot!” Theodore roared. “Both of you are defying me. It’s time I set you straight!”
His hand snapped out.
Julian didn’t dodge. He took the slap, then another, his head turning with the force, his expression tightening only after, as if pain didn’t deserve acknowledgement.
“Of all people,” Theodore spat, “you had to choose Harrison’s woman.”
Julian lowered his head and let out a cold laugh. “Why can’t I? If Harrison can have her, why can’t I?”
Theodore drew his fist back again, and my body moved before my mind finished forming the thought. I stepped in close, climbing up against Julian’s shoulder and throwing myself between them, arms raised to shield him, bracing for the next blow.