CHAPTER 3

The evening air was crisp as Sienna stepped out of her apartment, the lingering warmth of the setting sun fading into a cool breeze. The city was alive with muted noise—distant honks, the occasional laughter of pedestrians, and the low hum of street musicians playing in the background.

She had taken extra time getting ready, knowing she had every intention of getting drunk tonight. Her dark green dress hugged her curves perfectly, the silky material brushing against her skin as she walked. She had let her hair down, loose waves cascading over her shoulders. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but there was something freeing about dressing up just because she wanted to.

Marco was already waiting for her at the bottom of her building, leaning against his motorcycle with a lazy smirk.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, pushing off the bike. “Look at you, all dressed up. Who are we seducing tonight?”

Sienna rolled her eyes. “The only thing I plan on seducing is a bottle of tequila.”

Marco placed a hand over his heart, mock gasping. “And here I thought I was your date for the night. You wound me, Sienna.”

She laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You’re buying the drinks. That makes you my sugar daddy for the night.”

Marco wiggled his eyebrows. “Now that I don’t mind.”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she gestured toward his bike. “We taking that thing, or are we walking?”

He shrugged. “Up to you. The restaurant isn’t far, but we could ride in style.”

She considered it for a moment before sighing. “Fine. But don’t drive like a maniac.”

“No promises,” he said with a grin, handing her a helmet.

With a roll of her eyes, she took it, slipping it on before climbing onto the bike behind him. The engine roared to life beneath them, and she instinctively gripped his waist as he took off down the street.

—

The restaurant they had chosen was a quiet little spot tucked away on a less chaotic street. Dim lights gave the place a warm glow, and the soft hum of jazz played in the background. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable—exactly what they needed for a night of heavy drinking without the chaos of a nightclub.

They found a booth near the back, settling in as a waiter handed them menus.

“Alright,” Marco said, rubbing his hands together. “What’s our poison?”

Sienna tapped her chin in thought. “Tequila shots to start. Then maybe some cocktails.”

Marco snorted. “You really wanna get wasted, huh?”

She sighed, leaning back. “That’s the plan.”

His playful demeanor softened slightly as he studied her. “Rough week?”

She waved him off. “Just tired. Need a night to unwind.”

Marco didn’t push, simply nodding before signaling the waiter. “Two tequila shots. And keep ‘em coming.”

The waiter gave them a knowing look before walking off.

Sienna tapped her nails against the table. “So, tell me, Marco—why haven’t you settled down yet?”

He let out a laugh. “Me? Settling down? You’re hilarious.”

She smirked. “I’m serious. You’re a decent guy, funny, not bad looking—”

“Not bad looking?” He clutched his chest. “Sienna, I’m a goddamn catch.”

She snorted. “Fine, you’re a catch. So why are you still single?”

He leaned back, a lazy grin on his face. “Because I like being single. No drama, no commitments. Just me, my bike, and my terrible life choices.”

She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

He winked. “And you love it.”

Before she could retort, the waiter returned with their shots.

Marco picked his up first, holding it out toward her. “To bad decisions.”

Sienna clinked her glass against his. “To terrible life choices.”

They downed the shots in unison, the burn of tequila spreading through her chest. She hissed slightly, shaking her head.

“God, that never gets easier.”

Marco chuckled. “That’s the point.”

They ordered a few more rounds, the drinks loosening their conversation. Marco told her stories about ridiculous encounters at the club, and Sienna found herself laughing more than she had in a while.

At some point, she had switched to a cocktail—a dangerously sweet one that made her forget how much she had already drunk.

Marco was leaning on the table, watching her with an amused expression. “You’re drunk.”

She scoffed. “I am not drunk.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s two plus two?”

She frowned, narrowing her eyes. “Shut up.”

Marco burst into laughter. “Yup. You’re gone.”

She pouted. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Sure, sure.” He leaned closer, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do you at least admit that I’m the best drinking buddy you’ve ever had?”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “Fine. You win. You’re the best.”

Marco grinned. “Damn right, I am.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the alcohol making everything feel lighter. The weight of reality seemed distant, replaced by the warmth of good company and strong drinks.

Sienna sighed, tilting her head against the booth. “You know, I think I needed this.”

Marco’s smirk softened. “I know.”

She looked at him, something unreadable passing between them. Marco might be a flirt, but he wasn’t just some reckless womanizer. He cared—even if he acted like he didn’t.

Before she could say anything, he stretched his arms. “Alright, lightweight. Think you can stand, or should I carry you out?”

She scoffed, pushing herself up. “I’m not that drunk.”

Marco stood beside her, steadying her when she swayed slightly. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

They made their way to the entrance, stepping out into the cool night air. Sienna took a deep breath, the fresh air helping clear her mind a little.

Marco stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Come on. Let’s get you home before you decide to challenge me to a drinking contest.”

She chuckled. “You’d lose.”

He laughed. “You wish.”

They walked down the quiet streets, the night peaceful around them. Sienna let the alcohol buzz settle in her veins, feeling oddly at ease.

The night air wrapped around them like a cool, familiar blanket, offering some comfort after the intensity of the evening. Sienna inhaled deeply, letting the crisp night cleanse her senses. The restaurant had been a blur of conversation, laughter, and far too much alcohol. Now, walking beside Marco, she was starting to feel the weight of it. Her body felt warm, her mind was slightly fuzzy, but there was a certain peacefulness that settled in her chest as the alcohol buzzed through her system.

She glanced up at the sky, eyes squinting as the moonlight made the stars sparkle. It was rare for her to take the time to really look at the night, but tonight felt different. The hum of city life had softened, and she felt small in the vastness of it all.

“The sky is so beautiful…” she said, her voice trailing off as she dragged her steps a little, mesmerized by the quiet beauty above her.

Marco, always the quick-witted one, chuckled beside her. "You're definitely tipsy, huh?" He kept his pace slow, making sure she didn't trip in her drunken state.

“I’m not tipsy. Just… relaxed,” she replied, her tone unconvincing. She gave him a side glance, her eyes heavy from the alcohol, but she wasn’t about to admit how much she’d had to drink. She was pretty sure she could still walk a straight line.

Marco rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he matched her pace. “You’ve been saying that for the last three blocks.”

Sienna giggled, feeling the warm rush of laughter bubble up, a sensation that felt foreign and almost… free. She hadn’t had many moments like this in the last few months. Her life had been full of long shifts, late nights, and constant hustle. Tonight, though, she felt like she could breathe.

“Look, I think I could get to my apartment just fine without your help. I am not drunk,” Sienna said, trying to steady herself.

Marco just shook his head. He didn’t try to argue because he knew that if he did, she'd want to prove it, and that would end with her collapsing on the ground.

“Okay, you are not drunk. Now let’s get you home, princess,” Marco said, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and concern.

When they reached the apartment building, Marco led her into the elevator and took her up to the 15th floor. “Now, where are the keys?” he asked.

“In the ocean,” she replied with a laugh, and Marco simply rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Sienna, it’s late. You need rest. Where are the keys?”

“You’re no fun. They’re in my purse.” She opened her purse, pulling them out. Marco opened the door for her.

“Get some rest, and goodnight,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Goodnight.” Sienna smiled, and as soon as Marco left, she locked the door. With the little bit of energy she had left, she dragged herself to the nearest couch in the living room and collapsed, passing out instantly.

—-----------

“Hangovers are the worst,” Sienna mumbled, turning on the couch and almost falling to the floor. She groaned, rubbing her eyes, trying to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. Checking the time on her phone, she saw that it was already noon. She sighed deeply, mustering whatever strength she had left to drag herself into the bathroom.

Her body felt like it had been run over by a truck, and her head was no better—heavy and pounding. She reached for an aspirin in the cabinet to ease the pain. She was lucky she only had the late-night shifts at the club. If not, there was no way she could manage, especially with the creepy customers.

A hot shower helped ease her aching muscles, but she’d forgotten how fun drinking could be until she woke up to this aftermath. After the shower, she threw on an oversized t-shirt and shower shorts, tying her hair into a messy bun, and dragged her feet to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. She hoped it would help her come back to life a little more.

She leaned on the counter, staring at the hot coffee in her mug. She didn’t really enjoy coffee, but she’d drink it when out with friends or when she used to go on coffee dates with her ex. She sighed and took a sip just as her phone rang. Groaning, she checked the caller ID—it was Marco.

“Are you checking if I’m alive or dead?” she asked with a playful laugh.

“Nah, I’m checking if you haven’t opened up a case against me for not stopping you from drinking. How’s the hangover?” he asked, his voice lighthearted.

“Worse than trying to convince your mother that I’m not your girlfriend,” she responded, making Marco laugh on the other end.

“Nah, it can’t be worse than that. Anyway, do you need anything or are you coping just fine?” he asked, sounding amused. Marco was still in bed, likely going to wake up an hour before his shift started.

“I’m trying to cope.” Sienna heard the doorbell ring. “I’ll see you at work.”

“Sure thing, princess.” The call ended, and Sienna dragged herself to the front door. She checked the peephole to see who it was. A delivery guy stood there, holding a bouquet of red roses and a gift box. Sienna was confused—she wasn’t dating anyone.

“Delivery for Sienna?” he asked, handing her the items.

“Yes, that’s me,” she replied, still puzzled.

“Sign here, please,” he said, and she signed for the delivery. After handing her the items, he left.

Sienna placed the bouquet and gift box in the living room. There was a letter tucked inside the flowers. She picked it up, her curiosity piqued. Opening it, she read the neatly written words:

---

Dear Sienna,

I hope this gift brightens your day. I’ve noticed your hard work and dedication, and I wanted to show my appreciation in some small way. And I would like to get to know you better if that is okay with you.

Damian

—----

Sienna read the letter over and over again trying to make sense of everything. What kind of a boss sends his employees flowers and a gift to their house just to thank them for their hard work? She thought to herself. She sighed shaking her head. Maybe he was just being nice? But in Sienna’s head and from how his employees talk about him he didn't seem like the kind of guy to do that. And get to know her better? Sinna shook her head thinking that maybe she was thinking too much about the situation.

Sienna’s shift at Velvet Noir had just begun, the usual rush of bodies filling the club as the music pounded through the speakers, vibrating the floors. It was a late night shift, the type of shift where the hours felt like they dragged on, the minutes slipping away only to be swallowed by the neon lights and loud chatter. She had worked these shifts for months, but tonight, something felt different. The weight of the bouquet and the letter Damian had sent her that morning still lingered in her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just about admiration for her work. There was something else to it.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Sienna wiped down the bar with a damp cloth, clearing away the empty glasses from the previous patrons. The club was packed tonight—just another typical weekend night at Velvet Noir. She had grown used to the noise, the chaos, the clinking of glasses, and the low hum of conversations that blurred together like a constant background noise. The dim lighting, the neon glow, the music that thumped from the speakers, and the sultry atmosphere made it all feel like a well-rehearsed show. Everyone had their part to play—whether it was the customers coming for a good time or the bartenders doing their best to make sure they didn’t leave unsatisfied.

Marco, her best friend and fellow bartender, was busy shaking a cocktail behind the bar, throwing a smile to a group of regulars who had been at Velvet Noir for hours. He had been working alongside Sienna for what felt like forever, and their dynamic was effortless. He knew her better than anyone—knew how she liked to work, knew when she was stressed, knew when to give her a moment of quiet or crack a joke to lighten the mood. But tonight, there was something about her that seemed... off. Maybe it was the letter. Maybe it was Damian.

She didn’t want to admit it, but it was there—a feeling of discomfort in the pit of her stomach. Damian, the owner of Velvet Noir, had always been the mysterious figure in the club. Quiet, observant, never really mixing with the staff or customers unless it was necessary. He wasn’t an unkind boss, but he definitely kept his distance from everyone. That is, until recently. Over the past few days, he had been acting oddly interested in her. Always watching her from across the room, his gaze lingering longer than usual, his compliments more frequent, more personal. Sienna didn’t know how to interpret it. And then, this morning—the flowers, the gift, the letter. Get to know me better outside of the club. It sounded innocent enough, but she wasn’t convinced.

As she was pulling a drink for a regular at the counter, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Marco’s deep voice came from behind her. “Hey, come here for a sec. I need to talk to you.”

Sienna didn’t have time to argue, so she walked to the small area behind the bar where Marco was standing. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. His face was unreadable, but there was a slight smirk on his lips.

“You look a bit off, what's wrong?”

Sienna groaned, rolling her eyes. “I got a bouquet and a letter from Damian.” She leaned her hip against the counter, glancing at the club floor, keeping her voice low. “What’s the deal with him, Marco? I’ve worked here for a year, and now he’s suddenly all over me?”

Marco shrugged, his smirk widening. “I told you he's got a thing for you .”

Sienna shot him a look, half in disbelief and half in annoyance. “Please. I’m just a bartender. I don’t think a guy like him is interested in someone like me.” She shook her head, trying to laugh it off. “You’re just dreaming.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re saying you don’t think Damian’s been paying special attention to you lately?” He gestured toward the club floor where Damian was sitting in his usual corner, near the VIP section, his eyes flicking briefly in their direction. “Because I’ve seen it. He’s been looking at you like you’re the only person in the room.”

Sienna clenched her jaw. “Maybe he’s just being nice,” she muttered, but even she didn’t believe that. It didn’t feel like simple kindness. It felt… predatory, in a way. She had caught him watching her on more than one occasion, his eyes trained on her with an intensity that made her skin crawl.

“I’m just saying,” Marco continued with a chuckle, “if you ever need backup, I’ve got your back. But you need to admit it—he’s got a thing for you.”

Sienna shook her head again, trying to push the thought out of her mind. “Keep dreaming,” she said with a weak smile. “I’m just a regular bartender. He’s the owner of the club.”

“Sure, princess,” Marco said, winking at her. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sienna made a face and returned to the bar, refocusing on her work. The rest of the night passed by in a blur of drink orders and chatting with customers. Velvet Noir was always busy on weekends, and tonight was no exception. Regulars came in for their usuals, laughing and talking over the beats of the music, some more tipsy than others. Sienna moved seamlessly through the crowd, giving each customer her attention, offering them their drinks, engaging in light conversations. She was good at it—good at reading people, good at making them feel welcome, good at making them feel like they were the most important person in the room.

“Another whiskey neat, love,” one of the regulars said, a grin spreading across his face. Sienna nodded and pulled the bottle from the shelf.

“What’s up, Mason?” she asked, keeping the conversation light as she poured the drink. “You ready to get into trouble tonight?”

Mason chuckled, shaking his head. “Not tonight, Sienna. Just trying to relax before I head home.”

“You’re no fun,” she teased, handing him the glass. “I’m sure your wife’s got other plans for you when you get home.”

He laughed. “She does, but I’m not in any hurry to get there. Here’s to you, Sienna.” He raised his glass and took a sip, making a gesture of thanks before walking off.

As the night wore on, the music started to slow down, and the crowd began to thin out. Sienna wiped down the bar once more, her movements slower now, more relaxed. She could feel the shift in the atmosphere—soon, the club would close, and she’d be able to go home and get some sleep. But before she could start dreaming of her bed, she heard the familiar, commanding footsteps approaching. Damian.

He slid into the seat at the bar, just like he did every night, ordering his usual—a sweet and sour cocktail. Sienna moved to prepare it, her hands working quickly, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t avoid him forever. Damian had been watching her all night, his gaze lingering on her whenever their eyes met. She hated that she noticed it.

Marco glanced over at them from the other end of the bar. His eyes narrowed as he saw the way Damian was looking at Sienna—his gaze dark, intense, hungry. He mouthed the words to Sienna: I told you so.

Sienna rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort crawling under her skin. She placed the drink in front of Damian, forcing a polite smile. “Here you go, Damian. Sweet and sour, just like usual.”

Damian’s lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile as he looked up at her. “Thank you, Sienna. I hope you received the gift I sent you earlier.” His voice was smooth, his gaze fixed on her like he was studying her every move. It made her skin prickle with unease.

“I did,” Sienna said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Thank you for the flowers and the letter. It was... thoughtful.”

Damian leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving her face. “It was nothing,” he said, his voice low. “I’m just doing the right thing. You’ve been working hard lately. I wanted to acknowledge that.”

His words were casual, but the way he was looking at her—the way his eyes flickered down her body before locking back onto hers—made her feel exposed. Sienna couldn’t help but feel like he was undressing her with his eyes, like he could see through her, reading her every thought. She forced herself to stand still, but the feeling of his gaze made her want to move, to step away, to escape.

Damian’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with something darker, something that made her feel like she was being consumed. “You’re welcome, Sienna,” he said, his voice practically a whisper now. “I hope you’ll consider my offer. I’d like to get to know you better.”

Sienna swallowed, her throat dry. She could feel the weight of his words, the way they hung in the air like a challenge. She forced herself to nod, trying to maintain her composure.

“Thanks, Damian,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “But I’m not sure what you mean.” Her hands were clenched against the counter, but she didn’t dare move. Not yet.

Damian took a slow sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. His gaze never wavered, not even for a moment. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he said softly, almost like a promise.

Sienna felt a shiver run down her spine. She wanted to say something, to make it clear that she wasn’t interested, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she just nodded stiffly and turned away, moving to another customer at the far end of the bar. Damian’s eyes were still on her, watching, waiting. And no matter how much she tried to ignore it, the feeling that he was already claiming her was undeniable.