Chapter 6 - The Encounter
“Stop right there,” Sienna commanded, her hand rising from the counter with the palm facing him in an absolute, non-negotiable gesture.
Roman froze instantly three paces away from the register, his analytical mind recognizing that she was entirely prepared to defend her space.
He looked at her hand, noticing the slight tremor in her fingers before she quickly lowered them back to the wooden edge of the counter.
“You have no right to walk into my shop after eight months of complete silence,” she said, her eyes flashing with a sudden, dangerous brilliance.
“We are closed, the sign on the door says closed, and I want you to turn around and walk back out into the rain.”
Roman kept his hands visible at his sides, refusing to use his height or his imposing physical presence to intimidate her into listening.
“I cannot do that, Sienna,” he replied quietly, his gray eyes searching her face for any remnant of the tenderness they had once shared.
“I spent the last eight months tearing down every obstacle in my city just so I could stand in this room and speak to you without risking your life.”
Sienna let out a dry, humorless laugh that sounded like tearing silk, her head shaking slowly in absolute disbelief at his words.
“Risking my life?” she repeated, stepping out from behind the counter to face him directly, completely unafraid of the mob boss before her.
“You didn't say a single word about my life when you stood in your study and treated me like a piece of garbage you were tired of looking at.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, years of repressed pain and indignation boiling to the surface in the quiet, book-filled room.
“You gave me a one-word order, Roman. You said leave, just like you talk to your soldiers, just like you talk to your servants.”
Roman felt the sting of her words because every single one of them was an undeniable, objective truth about how he had handled that night.
“I did it because Mikhail Sokolov had a sniper rifle trained on your flower shop on Oak Street,” Roman confessed, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
“He sent me your photograph half an hour before you came home, threatening to skin you alive if I didn't surrender my shipping routes.”
Sienna went completely still, her hazel eyes darting across his face as her mind processed the horrific reality of his revelation.
“I couldn't tell you the truth because I knew you would stay,” Roman continued, stepping one pace closer, his composure finally beginning to crack.
“I knew your pride, I knew your courage, and I knew you would try to stand beside me in a war that would have torn you to pieces.”
Sienna looked at him for a long, agonizing moment, the silence of the shop returning with a heavy, suffocating weight between them.
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“So you decided to break my heart instead,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly before she forced it back under rigid control.
“You decided you had the right to make my choices for me, just like every other man who thinks power gives him ownership over people.”
