Chapter 5 - The First Sight
The small brass bell attached to the top of the bookstore door chimed with a clear, cheerful note as Roman pushed it open.
The air inside smelled instantly of old paper, cedarwood shelving, roasted coffee, and the faint, unmistakable scent of vanilla and jasmine.
It was the exact scent Sienna had worn every single day she had lived inside his Gold Coast penthouse in Chicago.
Roman stood just inside the doorway, the cold rain dripping from the hem of his overcoat onto the worn hardwood floorboards of the shop.
Sienna was standing near the back register, her head bent over a ledger as she made notations with a silver pen.
“I'll be right with you,” she said, her voice ringing out with that familiar, melodic clarity that had haunted his dreams for two hundred days.
“We don't officially open for another ten minutes, but feel free to browse the local history section by the fireplace.”
She did not look up immediately, her fingers expertly turning a thick page of the ledger while she finished her calculation.
Roman did not move a single muscle, did not take a step forward, and did not make a sound to announce his presence.
He simply stood by the door, absorbing every detail of her presence like a dying man drinking cold water after months in a desert.
She wore a simple silver ring on her right thumb, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her forearms.
After a long, stretching silence that seemed to fill the entire shop, Sienna finally lifted her head and looked toward the entrance.
The silver pen slipped from her fingers, hitting the glass surface of the display counter with a sharp, echoing clink.
Her hazel eyes widened, the warm color draining entirely from her cheeks until her face was as pale as the parchment surrounding her.
She froze completely, her breath catching visibly in her throat as she recognized the tall, dark figure standing in the shadows of her shop.
Roman saw the exact moment the shock transformed into something else, watching her posture stiffen as the old armor locked back into place.
She did not scream, she did not drop to the floor, and she did not ask him what he was doing thousands of miles away from Illinois.
She simply stood behind her register, her spine perfectly straight, her chin lifting with that defiant pride that had always fascinated him.
“You're dripping water on my floors, Mr. Volkov,” Sienna said, her voice dropping all its warmth to become as cold and smooth as glass.
Hearing her address him by his surname struck Roman harder than a physical blow to his chest, stripping away his composed exterior.
May you like
He took a slow step forward, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his weight as he began to close the distance between them.
“Sienna,” he said, his voice raw, thick with an emotion he had never allowed another human being to hear in his entire life.
