Chapter 7 The Grocery List
“Here,” Dante said, sliding an envelope across the counter like it might bite her. “Your new assignment.”
Sienna glanced at it, then at him. “If it’s another list of chores, I’m filing for hazard pay.”
“Not chores,” he said. “Groceries.”
She blinked. “You’re sending me shopping?”
He leaned back slightly in his wheelchair, face calm but eyes sharp. “I don’t trust delivery people.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“Then it’s settled.”
He said it like an ending, not an argument. But Sienna had spent enough days here to recognize that everything with him was a test. She picked up the envelope, feeling its lightness. “There’s barely anything in here.”
Dante’s gaze didn’t waver. “Eighty dollars.”
She raised an eyebrow. “For a villa with Italian marble countertops?”
“I like efficiency,” he said. “Let’s see if you do.”
“Organic?” she asked, dryly.
“Of course.”
Sienna laughed under her breath. “Right. Let me guess, imported olive oil too?”
“Already stocked,” he said simply, turning his chair toward the window.
It was his dismissal. She could almost see that quiet flick of command in his posture that said go now, conversation is over.
But Sienna didn’t move. “You could just let someone else handle this.”
“I just did.”
Her jaw clenched. “You’re unbelievable.”
“So I’ve been told,” he murmured.
She stared at him for a long second, the glint of control in his eyes, the calculated calmness. Then she pocketed the envelope and turned for the door. “Fine. But don’t complain if dinner’s tragic.”
“I never complain,” he said. “I critique.”
The car sputtered twice before starting. Sienna gripped the wheel tighter, muttering a curse. The villa’s private driveway wound steeply down to the small road that led into town, the view of the sea shimmering beneath her. It should’ve been beautiful. Instead, it felt like driving away from a cage she still wasn’t allowed to leave.
Eighty dollars? He’s mocking her.
Every time she thought she understood his cruelty, he invented a new variation, quiet, methodical, and impossible to argue with.
Still, she’d rather drive through town than sit in that house with him a minute longer.
At the market, she moved quickly through the aisles, scanning the shelves with the precision of someone who hated wasting time.
Chicken thighs instead of fillets. Brown rice. Carrots are not organic. Bread, milk, coffee, a cheap tin of tuna she doubted he’d ever touch.
Her phone buzzed once in her pocket, but she ignored it. The world outside the villa had started to feel irrelevant.
At checkout, she counted coins, jaw tight. Eighty dollars exactly. Not a cent left.
When she stepped back into the sun, she caught her reflection in the store’s glass door, her hair was a little wild from the wind, eyes sharper than she remembered. He wanted her to feel irritated, she thought. Mission accomplished.
The moment she opened the villa door, she heard him.
“Doctor Hale,” Dante called from the kitchen. “You’re late.”
She dropped the bags onto the counter. “You’ve been timing me?”
“Of course,” he said. “That’s how I know you’re inefficient.”
“You’re welcome for the food,” she said, pulling out the chicken first.
He ignored her sarcasm, reaching into one of the bags. “Carrots,” he noted. “They don't look organic.”
“They were half the price.”
“That’s half the nutrients.”
She shot him a look. “Pretty sure vitamin C doesn’t care about your tax bracket.”
He pulled out another item, instant coffee and held it between two fingers like evidence. “You’re serious.”
“It’s caffeine,” she said. “You’ll live.”
He set it down with surgical precision, as if contact might contaminate him. “You have a gift, Doctor. You make mediocrity sound noble.”
Her patience snapped. “And you have a gift for driving everyone insane.”
That silenced him for a beat. The tension in the room sharpened like the air before a storm.
She watched him, arms crossed. “You push people away, and then you act surprised when they leave.”
He met her gaze, calm, deliberate. “You haven’t left.”
“Not yet.”
His lips curved faintly. “So you admit that you think about it.”
“Every day,” she said. “Usually around breakfast.”
Something flickered across his expression like amusement or something darker. “But you stayed and you're still staying here.”
She turned back to the counter, unloading the rest of the groceries. “I’m here to do my job.”
“You’re here because you signed a contract.”
“Same thing.”
He didn’t reply right away. He just watched her, the rhythm of his breathing slow and controlled.
She’s the first one who doesn’t flinch when he talks to her, he thought, studying the line of her jaw, the surety in her movements. The first one who looks him in the eye like he's still human.
Sienna felt the weight of his gaze before she looked up. His eyes lingered not soft, but heavy with something she couldn’t recognize.
“You’re staring,” she said quietly.
“I’ m observing,” he corrected. “It’s different.”
“Not by much.”
“I disagree.”
She huffed a breath, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
“Thank you,” he said, as if it were praise.
When she turned away to put the groceries away, he spoke again softer this time. “Doctor Hale.”
She didn’t look at him. “What now?”
“You could’ve just walked away.”
Her hands froze on the refrigerator handle. The words landed low, threading through the silence.
She didn’t turn around. “And miss all your charm?”
He didn’t laugh. “No,” he said quietly. “You could’ve walked away from the beginning.”
Sienna stood still, heart thudding once not from fear, but from something she didn’t understand. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady. “Maybe I should’ve.”
He didn’t reply. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence between them.
She gathered her things, walked out of the kitchen without another word.
But as she reached the doorway, something made her glance back one last time.
Dante was staring down at the envelope she’d left on the counter. The smallest flicker of guilt crossed his face was gone almost before it appeared.
Sienna didn’t see it. She was already halfway down the hall, wondering why his words still echoed in her head long after she left.
Why did he sound almost regretful when he said it?