Sienna let out a bitter laugh. "I wish the cleaning crews saw it your way, Mira. If the work doesn't get done and a guest complains, management takes it out on us part-timers. Everyone else slacks off, but we're the ones getting chewed out for taking a five-minute breather. You want to be the one on the chopping block today? Because I don't."
Because they were NYU students, the restaurant manager let them work a specific 6:00 PM to 10:30 PM window. In the cutthroat world of New York hospitality, that kind of "perk" was unheard of, and Sienna used that fact to guilt-trip herself into enduring the burnout.
"You're so stubborn it's a headache," Mira said, waving her off as she headed out of the locker room.
Sienna took a deep breath, reaching back to massage the dull ache in her lower back. She popped her locker open and quickly stripped out of her uniform. Just as she grabbed her white T-shirt, a massive force slammed into her from behind, pinning her hard against the freezing metal locker door.
"Ah—!"
Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. Terrified, she tried to spin around.
As she turned, a wave of suffocating, predatory heat closed in. A heavy, burning breath fanned against the shell of her ear.
"He—"
The scream was cut halfway. A large, calloused palm clamped firmly over her mouth.
Sienna's eyes went wide. The metal handle of the locker dug painfully into her back. She thrashed wildly, but against a man that size, her resistance was a joke. The more she struggled, the tighter the cage around her became.
Muffled whimpers were all she could manage. She'd heard the door open a moment ago, but she thought it was just Mira coming back for something she'd forgotten. She never imagined...
"Didn't plan on missing me?"
A deep, low voice dropped over her—dark, velvety, and laced with a dangerous kind of hunger. Then, a sharp, rugged jawline pressed into the crown of her head, rubbing against her hair.
The second she heard that voice, Sienna felt like she'd been struck by lightning.
It was him. Julian Blackwood.
Knowing it was him only made her fight harder. She wanted to scream for help, to call the cops and watch this devil in a designer suit get hauled away forever—but his hand was like a steel vice, shutting down every exit.
Julian's body, hard as marble and twice as heavy, pressed flush against her back. His other hand slid naturally, almost possessively, around her slim waist.
His warm palm seared her bare skin. Every inch his fingertips brushed felt like a live wire, sending shocks straight to her heart and paralyzing her limbs.
He handled her small frame with terrifying ease. He breathed in the scent of her hair greedily, his chest crushing her back so hard she could barely get air into her lungs. As his fingers traced the curve of her waist, his mind flashed back to that night—how this body had moved like a silk ribbon under him.
"You ungrateful little thing," Julian's voice was raw and gravelly. "You haven't thought about me once, have you? Because I've been thinking about you plenty."
Sienna started shaking uncontrollably. Julian felt a dampness against his palm. He frowned, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face as he spun her around to face him.
"Are you crying?"
Tears slipped through his fingers, leaving crystal streaks on her pale skin.
He remembered that night. She'd cried then, too. He'd asked why, and she'd whispered that it hurt.
Julian felt a sudden, inexplicable pang in his chest. He eased his grip, his hand softening. "Alright... I won't hurt you."
But before he could even play the "gentleman" for two seconds, Sienna exploded. She used every ounce of strength left to shove him back. She didn't even care that she was half-undressed; she grabbed her T-shirt like a weapon, kicking and swinging at him.
"You bastard! You psycho! I'm taking you to court! I'm going to make sure you rot in a cell for the rest of your life!"
She was beyond caring about her image. Her obsidian eyes were filled with pure, concentrated loathing. She wanted to tear him apart.
Julian backed up a step, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. In this cramped locker room that smelled like cheap industrial bleach, she looked like a wild, thorn-covered rose.
The commotion was too loud to ignore. Sawyer, Julian's assistant, shoved the door open. He had just been standing in the hall, using a polite but lethal tone to "ensure" Mira didn't go anywhere.
"Boss?"
"Get out!"
Julian's roar was like a thunderclap. Sawyer actually flinched, his knees nearly giving way under the sheer weight of that killing intent.
Being a pro, Sawyer took one look at the messy, high-voltage scene inside and got the message. He slammed the door shut instantly. Turning back to Mira, who was trying to bolt, he flashed a cold, hitman-style smile.
"Ever wondered what it feels like to be tossed into the Hudson River, sweetheart?" Sawyer asked mildly.
Mira froze, shrinking into the corner like a terrified bird.
Inside, the war continued. Julian had originally just wanted to see her, but with Sienna half-naked and swinging at him, it was pure torture for his self-control.
Julian took a sharp breath. The next time she lunged at him, he reached out with one arm, snagging her waist and locking her into his chest.
"Enough! Don't tempt me to finish what we started right here in this locker room!"
He was at his breaking point. If she kept "playing" with him like this, he couldn't guarantee his sanity.
"Scumbag!"
She shrieked, and Julian leaned down to nip at her earlobe. Sienna went rigid. "You're a liar! You said it was just for one night!"
Julian kept her locked in place, spinning her around and slamming her back against the lockers again.
"Keep screaming," he hissed, his face inches from hers, eyes glowing with a terrifying chill. "See if your voice can save you now."
Sienna recoiled. That specific brand of 1%er intimidation finally cut through her rage, leaving her cold and bloodless.
Julian's hand gripped her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.
This little thing. She had the face of an angel but a temper like a slab of granite. He squeezed just hard enough to see her wince before slowly letting go.
Seeing the mixture of misery and hate in her eyes, Julian sighed inwardly. His tone softened, just a fraction.
"I have a few questions. Answer them honestly. And Sienna—if you lie to me, you won't like the fallout."
It was the first time he'd ever used such a blunt threat on a woman, but he didn't care.
"Let go of me..." Sienna turned her head, refusing to look at him.
Julian watched her with a faint, mocking smile. She was the only woman who could ever push his patience this far. In the two weeks since he'd left her, the "addiction" for her had been eating him alive.
"I like this view."
Sienna grit her teeth, instinctively clutching the T-shirt to her chest.
Julian looked down, his eyes scanning her movements with amusement. "A little late for modesty, don't you think? I haven't forgotten a single inch of you."
"You..." Sienna was shaking with rage. "Turn around! I need to get dressed!"
"Don't push your luck."
"Julian! If you have even an ounce of 'gentleman' in you, turn around!"
Julian's eyes darkened, his voice turning sharp. "You can turn your back to me while you dress. But in this room, you don't give me orders. Got it?"
Sienna choked on her words. She had no choice. She turned around, pressing herself against the metal lockers, and pulled the T-shirt on as fast as humanly possible.
When she finished and tried to bolt, Julian caught her wrist.
"You haven't answered my questions."
"I'm just getting my vest!" she snapped, ripping her hand away.
With her clothes back on, she felt a shred of her confidence return. She pulled a small denim vest from the locker and threw it on. The youthful, vibrant energy she radiated hit Julian like a physical wave.
He watched her—so full of life, so young—and for a second, he actually felt a pang of envy. To be that young again. It made him want to own that vitality, to hoard it for himself.
"Are you even twenty yet?" he asked out of the blue.
Sienna blinked, clearly not expecting a billionaire to care about the small talk.
"Next week," she said curtly.
Next week? Her twentieth birthday? That old fox Zhang hadn't mentioned a word about that.
"How long have you been with that tray-spinning kid?" Julian's face went cold instantly, his voice dripping with venom. "When did it start? Tell me the truth."