Chapter 10 The Uninvited guest
Sienna hadn’t eaten, she hadn’t even showered. The article had spread like wildfire overnight “Dante Varon’s Live-In Therapist: Secret Lover or Paid Caretaker?” Her phone wouldn’t stop vibrating until she turned it off completely, but the words stayed, echoing in her head like a curse.
Her name. Her picture. Her reputation was reduced to a headline.
If the board saw it, if her supervisors in London read it she could lose her license. Her years of study would all be gone because of a man who refused to cooperate and the media circus orbiting him.
By the time sunlight crept through the shutters, she was pacing again, every thought circling back to that single question. Who leaked it?
Dante found her in the living room, barefoot, still in yesterday’s clothes, muttering to herself as she scrolled through unread emails.
He leaned against the doorway. “You look like you’re auditioning for a breakdown.”
She turned on him instantly. “You think this is funny?”
“I think it’s predictable,” he said calmly. “They were bound to find something to write about.”
“Something?” She held up the tablet, the headline glaring in bold type. “This isn’t something, Dante, this is my career! I could get investigated for violating professional ethics!”
He crossed his arms, voice smooth but cold. “You haven’t violated anything.”
“They don’t care about that!” she snapped. “Perception is enough to ruin a doctor, and you know it.”
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes not guilt, but the faintest twitch of awareness. He sighed, rubbed a hand through his hair. “It’ll die down in a few days. These stories always do.”
Sienna stared at him, speechless. “That’s your solution? Wait for it to fade?”
He met her gaze, unflinching. “What do you want me to do? Call every journalist in Europe and demand they retract it?”
“Yes!” she said, voice rising. “Or at least act like you care that my entire professional life is burning!”
His tone dropped low, sharp. “You think I planted this? That I enjoy having my name dragged through the tabloids again?”
“Someone inside your house did,” she said. “Who else would know I live here?”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “Maybe one of the new staff. They come and go. It happens.”
Sienna let out a bitter laugh. “Convenient, isn’t it? You fired your chef, your personal assistant, your cleaner, and somehow the one person you can’t fire is the one whose life gets destroyed.”
He didn’t answer, and his silence was worse than denial.
She took a step toward him, anger trembling through her body. “If I lose my license because of this..”
“You won’t,” he interrupted.
“You don’t know that!” Her voice cracked, the fear finally breaking through. “Do you even realize what that means for me? This isn’t just a job, Dante. It’s who I am.”
He watched her quietly, expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his words cut more than comforted.
“You’re here to fix me, not to like me,” he said flatly. “This will get sorted out soon.”
Her chest tightened. “And you’re here to destroy my reputation.”
For a second, neither moved. The tension between them felt like a live wire, humming with exhaustion and fury.
Dante turned away first, wheeling toward the balcony, his voice low. “The more you fight it, the deeper they dig. Ignore it.”
She wanted to tell him that wasn’t how the world worked. That silence wasn’t survival, it felt like a total surrender. But she didn’t have the strength to argue anymore.
Instead, she whispered, “Maybe I should just leave.”
He froze. Then slowly turned back to her. “You can’t.”
“I’ll break the contract.”
“Try it,” he said, his tone soft but dangerous. “You’ll spend the next year in court, and the tabloids will write a thousand more headlines about you before the first hearing.”
Her stomach sank. He was right and he knew it.
“Why does it feel like every road out of here leads straight back to you?” she said quietly.
He looked at her for a long time, but his answer never came.
Before either could speak again, a voice echoed from the entryway.
“Still finding new ways to embarrass me, I see.”
The sound froze them both.
Jean-Paul Varon stood in the doorway, tall and immaculately dressed, flanked by two men in dark suits. His presence was an intrusion.
“Father,” Dante said, instantly. “You should’ve called.”
Jean-Paul’s expression was smooth as glass. “I wouldn’t have gotten a straight answer.” His gaze shifted to Sienna. “So this is the doctor.”
Sienna straightened, pulse jumping. “Dr. Hale,” she said evenly.
He smiled without warmth. “Ah, yes. The live-in companion. Quite the headline this morning.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she kept her posture steady. “That’s false.”
“Of course it is,” he said, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe her. “But perception, my dear, is often more valuable than truth. You’d do well to remember that if you intend to stay here.”
“Father,” Dante said warningly.
Jean-Paul didn’t even glance his way. “You’ve already cost this family enough, Dante. The crash, the scandal, now this little domestic drama.” He let the words hang, sharp as knives. “You’ll end this nonsense before the Varon name sinks any lower.”
Sienna bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to defend herself, but the way Jean-Paul looked at her like she was an inconvenience, not a person made her words stick in her throat.
He turned fully to her now. “You’ll do your job quietly, Doctor. Or I’ll find someone who will.”
The words landed like a slap.
Sienna’s throat tightened, but she managed, “I’m not here for your reputation, Mr. Varon. I’m here because your son needs help.”
Jean-Paul’s expression didn’t flicker. “My son needs discipline, not help.”
He left them, the sound of his cane echoing down the marble hall.
Silence filled the space he’d left behind. Heavy and suffocating.
Sienna turned to Dante, heart still racing. “You just let him talk to me like that?”
Dante’s voice was low, weary. “That’s how he talks to everyone.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“Fighting him only gives him more to use against you.”
Her hands shook, part rage, part disbelief. “You sound just like him.”
He didn’t answer.
Sienna stepped closer, searching his face. “You could’ve said something.”
His eyes flicked up to meet hers, dark and guarded. “And what would that change?”
“Maybe nothing,” she said. “But at least I’d know you saw me as more than collateral damage.”
That hit something. His expression hardened not out of anger, but because the words were too close to truth.
The air between them thickened.
Before she could speak again, she caught movement outside the glint of sunlight on metal through the window. A car, parked halfway down the drive.
“Dante” she said softly, moving toward the glass. “There’s someone out there.”
He joined her, his jaw tightening when he saw it. The car sat still, engine off, windows tinted.
Suddenly, there was a flash.
The unmistakable pop of a camera.
Sienna flinched. Dante swore under his breath, moving toward the phone.
Before he could dial, the car’s engine roared to life. Tires screeched, gravel scattered, and it sped away down the narrow road, disappearing around the bend.
There was silence again.
Sienna’s pulse hammered in her ears. “That’s how the headline started,” she whispered.
Dante’s eyes stayed on the window, unreadable, something sharp creeping beneath the surface.
Not anger this time,not arrogance, but fear.
He turned toward her, voice barely audible.
“He wasn’t supposed to know where I live.”
And for the first time since she met him, Sienna saw real panic in Dante Varon’s eyes.