CHAPTER 4

The morning sun cast a soft golden hue over the city, the streets bathed in a quiet serenity that only Sunday mornings could bring. Sienna stood in front of her closet, shifting through hangers, looking for something suitable to wear. Sundays had always been a sacred day for her, a time when she could find some peace and clarity away from the chaos of the world—especially his world.

Church had been a comfort to her ever since she was a little girl. It was a place she once went with her parents, holding their hands, listening to their soft whispers of prayer. Even though they were no longer with her, she still kept the tradition alive. It was one of the few moments in her week that made her feel connected to them.

After settling on a modest yet elegant dress—black, with long sleeves and a flowing skirt that reached just below her knees—she slipped into a pair of black heels. She ran a brush through her dark hair, straightening it with practiced ease, before applying light makeup. Nothing too much, just enough to make her look presentable.

Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her purse and phone before stepping outside.

The air was crisp, a cool breeze whispering through the streets, carrying the distant sounds of morning traffic. Sienna inhaled deeply, letting the fresh air fill her lungs. She had debated taking her car, but the church was only a ten-minute walk away, and she enjoyed these peaceful strolls—short enough to clear her mind, long enough to prepare herself for the day ahead.

Just as she reached the sidewalk, a voice called her name.

“Sienna.”

Her heart nearly stopped.

She knew that voice.

Slowly, she turned around, her forced smile already in place before she even saw his face. And there he was—Damian.

Dressed impeccably, as always, Damian stood a few feet away, his dark eyes studying her with an intensity that made her stomach twist. He was wearing a fitted black shirt, the sleeves rolled up slightly, showcasing the toned muscles in his forearms. Paired with dark jeans and polished leather shoes, he looked effortlessly powerful.

Sienna had hoped to avoid him, at least for today. Sundays were supposed to be her days—quiet, untouched by the world of Velvet Noir and everything it entailed. Yet, here he was.

“Damian,” she greeted, forcing her voice to sound light and casual.

His gaze swept over her from head to toe, lingering just a little too long, his lips twitching as if he were enjoying the sight before him. When he bit his lip slightly, Sienna felt an uncomfortable shiver run down her spine.

“How are you?” he asked, his deep voice smooth, laced with something unreadable.

“I’m doing great,” she replied, shifting on her feet. “How about you? Do you live around here?”

Damian’s smirk deepened, his dark eyes glinting with something almost… amused.

“I just moved in,” he said casually. “I’m on the fifteenth floor.”

Sienna’s breath caught in her throat.

The fifteenth floor.

Her fifteenth floor.

Of all the places in the city, of all the luxurious apartment buildings he could have chosen, he had to move into hers.

She tried to maintain her composure, forcing a polite nod. “Oh… When did you move?”

“Today,” he answered smoothly. “Are you heading somewhere?”

Sienna suddenly wished she had taken her car.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m going to church.”

Something flickered in Damian’s gaze. “Which church?”

She hesitated for half a second before answering, “The Catholic church near the school.”

He exhaled, nodding slightly. “Ah. I’ve always wanted to go there, but I never had the time.” His gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow smirk, he added, “Turns out I’m free today. Mind if I join you?”

Every fiber of her being screamed yes, I mind.

But saying no wasn’t an option.

There was something about Damian—an air of control, of authority, that made it difficult to refuse him without it feeling like a challenge. And Sienna wasn’t in the mood to challenge him.

So, instead, she forced another smile and said, “No, I don’t mind.”

Damian’s smirk widened slightly, as if he could see through the lie.

“Should we take my car?” he asked.

“We’re walking,” she said quickly.

He let out a low chuckle, nodding. “Walking it is.”

They started down the sidewalk together, side by side. Sienna was painfully aware of Damian’s presence, the way he walked with quiet confidence, his strides effortless yet commanding.

The silence stretched between them for a few moments before he spoke.

“So, you go every Sunday?”

“Yes,” she said, keeping her eyes ahead.

“A woman of faith,” he mused. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Sienna frowned slightly. “Why?”

He shrugged, his gaze flickering toward her. “You just don’t seem the type.”

She shot him a look. “And what exactly is the type?”

His lips quirked up at the corners. “Innocent. Devoted. Untouched by the world.”

Sienna let out a small, humorless laugh. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but not all churchgoers are saints.”

Damian smirked. “That’s what makes it interesting.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that, and she didn’t want to ask.

They walked in silence for a while, the sound of their footsteps filling the air. The streets were relatively quiet, a few people passing by, some heading in the same direction as them.

Then, Damian spoke again. “Do you pray for something specific?”

Sienna hesitated, gripping the strap of her purse.

“For peace,” she admitted.

Damian tilted his head slightly. “Peace from what?”

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t want to.

They reached the church soon after, the grand structure standing tall, its stained-glass windows glowing softly in the morning light. People were already gathering at the entrance, greeting one another with warm smiles.

Sienna took a small breath of relief.

At least here, I can breathe.

As they stepped inside, the scent of burning candles and aged wood filled the air. Sienna made her way to an empty pew, and to her dismay, Damian slid in beside her.

She sent him a pointed look.

“What?” he said, smirking. “You said you didn’t mind me coming.”

She sighed, shaking her head, choosing to ignore him as she clasped her hands together.

The service began, the soft hum of hymns filling the church, the priest’s voice steady as he led the congregation. Sienna focused on the words, letting them wash over her, grounding her.

But no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t ignore the man beside her—the way he sat, his posture relaxed yet somehow intentional, his gaze drifting to her every so often.

She had a feeling that Damian didn’t come here because he wanted to.

He came because she was here.

And that thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

When the service ended, they stepped back outside, the morning air now a little warmer. Sienna was prepared to part ways, but Damian spoke first.

“Do you usually go alone?”

“Yes,” she said.

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I see.”

There was something in his tone, something unreadable.

Then, he smirked. “Maybe I’ll come with you again next Sunday.”

Sienna stiffened. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said, his smirk widening. “But I think I will.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart hammering in her chest.

She had a feeling that this was only the beginning.

And that terrified her.

—------

Sienna sighed as she looked in the mirror, exhaustion evident in her eyes. Getting ready for work felt like a never-ending routine—no rest, no time to breathe, just back-to-back shifts, dealing with drunk customers, flirtatious patrons, and worst of all… Damian.

She wished he wouldn’t be around tonight. But deep down, she knew better.

He had been coming to Velvet Noir more often these days. It used to be that he’d show up at the end of the month, monitoring the staff, ensuring everything was running smoothly. But now, he was there every single night. Sitting at the bar, watching her. And it wasn’t just casual observation—it was something far more intense, far more consuming.

The way he looked at her made her skin crawl, as if he were peeling away every layer, stripping her bare with nothing but his eyes.

Sienna threw on her jacket, grabbed her purse and phone, and headed out. The night air was cool against her skin as she walked the short distance to the club, hoping the shift would pass quickly.

When she arrived, Velvet Noir was already alive with music and energy, the bass vibrating through the walls, the chatter of customers filling the dimly lit space. Marco was behind the bar, preparing drinks as he always did.

“Hey, Marco,” she greeted, slipping behind the counter.

Marco glanced at her, his brows lifting. “Someone doesn’t look good tonight.”

Sienna exhaled heavily, rubbing her temples. “I went to church with Damian.”

Marco nearly dropped the bottle he was holding. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“And,” she continued, ignoring his stunned expression, “he lives on the fifteenth floor.”

Marco let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s your floor, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Oh yeah,” Marco said, shaking his head. “You’re screwed.”

Sienna shot him a glare. “Thanks for the reassurance.”

Marco chuckled. “I told you he’s got a thing for you.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing a rag and wiping down the counter. “Keep dreaming, Marco. I’m just a bartender, and he’s—”

“A man who gets what he wants,” Marco finished for her, a knowing smirk on his face.

Sienna didn’t respond. Because deep down, she feared Marco might be right.

The hours passed as the club filled up, the energy buzzing with life. The neon lights cast a sultry glow over the bar, and the scent of alcohol mixed with the faint traces of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke.

Sienna moved effortlessly through her routine, taking orders, mixing drinks, and dodging the occasional wandering hands of drunk men.

A man in a suit leaned against the counter, his tie slightly loosened, eyes hazy from alcohol. “Hey, sweetheart, give me another whiskey. Neat.”

Sienna poured his drink with precision, sliding the glass over to him.

“You got a name, gorgeous?” he asked, slurring slightly.

“It’s Sienna,” she replied, keeping her voice neutral.

“Sienna,” he repeated, rolling the name over his tongue like he was tasting it. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

She gave him a polite smile, already moving on to the next customer.

A group of women approached, laughing amongst themselves. One of them, a redhead in a tight dress, leaned forward. “Three cosmos, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Sienna moved quickly, the sound of ice clinking against glass filling the air. As she handed them their drinks, one of the women grinned at her. “You’ve got the best job, don’t you? Surrounded by drinks and handsome men all night?”

Sienna forced a chuckle. “Something like that.”

Truthfully, most nights were exhausting. The only thing that made it bearable was Marco’s company and the fact that, at the end of the night, she got to walk home and leave it all behind—at least until the next shift.

As the night wore on, she felt the weight of a familiar gaze.

She turned slightly and found Damian sitting at his usual spot at the bar, watching her.

His drink sat untouched in front of him, something sweet and sour—his usual order. But his focus wasn’t on the glass. It was on her.

Marco caught her gaze and smirked. Told you so.

Sienna rolled her eyes and approached Damian, setting her hands on the bar. “Another?”

His lips curved into a slow smirk. “You remember my order.”

“You get the same thing every time,” she replied.

He leaned forward slightly. “Did you like the flowers?”

Her stomach tightened. She knew this was coming.

“They were… nice,” she admitted. “Thank you for them. And for the gift.”

His gaze darkened with something unreadable. “You deserve to be appreciated, Sienna.”

Something about the way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. She forced a polite smile. “That’s kind of you, but I’m just a bartender.”

Damian’s smirk didn’t fade. “You’re more than that.”

Sienna had no idea what to say to that, so she simply excused herself, busying herself with another customer.

As the music died down and the club began to empty, Sienna let out a breath of relief. Another shift done.

She grabbed her purse, ready to head home, when she felt a presence behind her.

“You shouldn’t walk alone this late.”

She turned and found Damian standing there, his dark eyes steady on hers.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, keeping her voice even. “It’s only a five-minute walk.”

His head tilted slightly. “And now that we live in the same building, on the same floor, it makes sense to drive together.”

Sienna’s pulse quickened. So he really did move in today.

She hesitated. Walking was her escape—a way to clear her mind after work. But rejecting him now felt pointless.

With a quiet sigh, she nodded. “Alright.”

His smirk returned. “Good girl.”

She followed him outside, where his sleek black car was parked near the entrance. He opened the door for her, and she slid in, the leather seats cool against her skin.

The ride was silent at first, the hum of the engine the only sound between them.

Then Damian spoke. “You work too hard.”

Sienna glanced at him. “Says the man who owns the club and never leaves.”

His lips twitched. “Fair point.”

She looked out the window, the city lights blurring past. “Why did you move into my building?”

His fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “Would you believe me if I said it was a coincidence?”

“No.”

He chuckled. “Smart girl.”

Sienna didn’t press further. She didn’t want to know.

When they arrived, he parked smoothly, turning to look at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sienna.”

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

As she stepped out of the car, she felt his gaze follow her, lingering, possessive.

And for the first time, she realized—escaping him wouldn’t be easy anymore.

Sienna sighed heavily, placing her house keys on the kitchen counter. The familiar clink of metal against granite echoed in the silence of her apartment, but it did little to ease the gnawing feeling in her chest. She reached up, pulling off her jacket, her movements slow and deliberate. The weight of the night, and everything else that had been accumulating, seemed to drag on her.

Now there was no avoiding him.

Damian.

She couldn’t help but feel the weight of that thought pressing against her. The fact that they were neighbors now—that he lived right across the hall from her—was something she hadn’t quite processed. She leaned back against the counter, staring blankly at the space in front of her. Why was he doing this? What made her special in his eyes?

She could think of no reason why Damian would be interested in her, and frankly, that only made her more uneasy. She wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a normal bartender who worked long hours. It wasn’t about needing the money, though that was a part of it. But mostly, she worked to tire herself out. It was a way to escape the constant weight of her own thoughts. But sometimes, especially on nights like tonight, she hated it.

The loneliness that filled her apartment now felt suffocating. She had been pushing back the thoughts that lurked in the back of her mind—the thoughts of her parents. The grief had become such a part of her life that it seemed almost impossible to shake it off. They had been her world, and when they were suddenly gone, it had been as though the ground had fallen away from beneath her.

Her fingers lingered on the edge of the counter, tracing a line along the surface as her thoughts drifted.

Why did it have to happen?

The accident had torn through her life in a way that no one could ever understand. She had been in that car with her parents—had seen the accident unfold, helpless, powerless. She had survived. But the guilt, the confusion of why it wasn’t her, lingered every day.

She closed her eyes briefly, the memory of the accident flashing vividly in her mind. The screech of tires. The way everything seemed to slow down, like she was in a dream. She could still feel the impact, could still hear the crunching of metal, the shattering of glass.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to push the memory away. The anger, the sadness, the guilt, and the heartache that had followed. She hadn’t realized how much it had all built up inside of her until now, until this moment of quiet.

The soft glow of her lamp illuminated the nightstand, catching her attention. Her gaze moved to the small photo frame sitting there. It was a picture of her parents, taken two years ago. It had been a week before the accident—before everything changed. They had been happy, smiling, laughing, completely unaware of what the future would bring.

She reached out slowly, her fingers grazing the edge of the frame. Her chest tightened as she picked it up and held it close.

I miss you both so much.

Her eyes blurred as she stared at the picture. Her mother’s smile was wide, full of warmth, while her father stood next to her, arm around her, looking content. It was a rare moment of calm, a rare moment of peace, one that she now clung to.

She ran her hand over the picture, gently tracing her mother’s face and then her father’s. The tears came unexpectedly, quietly at first. She swallowed the lump in her throat but it didn’t help. The ache in her heart was too much to bear, and she felt the grief rise up like a tide.

Why did I survive?

It was the question that had haunted her every day since the accident. She had tried to push it aside, but it always came back. Why had she been spared? Why hadn’t she been the one to—

Her phone buzzed on the counter, breaking through the heavy silence. She blinked, startled, her hand fumbling for the device. When she saw the name on the screen, a small sigh of relief escaped her lips.

It was Marco.

Without thinking, she swiped to answer, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Marco,” she said, her voice quieter than she’d intended.

“Sienna? You sound off. You okay?” Marco’s voice came through the phone with concern.

She leaned against the counter again, closing her eyes for a moment. I’m not okay. But she didn’t want to burden him with that.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to sound more normal. “Just… tired, I guess.”

There was a pause on the other end. She could imagine Marco’s brow furrowing, the way he would always look at her when he knew she was lying. He wasn’t stupid. He knew her too well.

“You sure?” His voice was soft, like he wasn’t buying it, but he wasn’t pushing either.

Sienna hesitated before she spoke again. “I miss them, Marco.” Her voice broke on the last word, but she quickly swallowed the emotion, not wanting him to hear the cracks.

There was a long silence, but she wasn’t surprised. Marco knew how to give her space when she needed it. After a few moments, he spoke again, his tone calm, but filled with care.

“I know,” he said simply. “I know you do. You’ve been through so much, Sienna. It’s okay to miss them. You don’t have to bottle it all up.”

Sienna closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool counter. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words.

“I don’t know how to keep going sometimes,” she admitted, her voice shaky. “Everything feels like it’s just falling apart.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” Marco said softly. “And you’re not alone, okay? I’m here. You know that.”

She bit her lip, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “Thanks, Marco. You always know what to say.”

“It's not just words, Sienna,” he replied. “I’m here for you. Always.”

Sienna couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. It was a bittersweet smile, but it was there. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you either,” Marco said, his tone lighter now. “Listen, if you want, we can grab some food tomorrow. I’ll take your mind off everything, okay?”

Sienna let out a soft laugh, the first genuine sound of joy in hours. “That sounds nice.”

“Good,” Marco said. “It’s a date then.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “It’s not a date, Marco.”

“I know, I know,” he said, his voice teasing. “But it’ll be good to get out of the apartment for a bit.”

“I’d like that,” she said, her heart feeling a little lighter than before.

The silence stretched out between them, comfortable now, and Sienna let herself breathe a little easier.

“Alright, I’m going to let you get some rest,” Marco said after a while. “But just remember—you’re not alone. Ever.”

“I know. Thanks again, Marco.” Her voice was filled with quiet gratitude.

“No problem, Sienna. Talk to you tomorrow.”

As she hung up the phone, a wave of calm washed over her. It wasn’t enough to fix everything, but it was enough to remind her that there was still some light left in her life. It wasn’t just about the past—about her parents. It was also about the people who were still there for her.

Marco was right.

She wasn’t alone.

Sienna placed the phone down on the counter and looked back at the photo of her parents. She traced her fingers over the glass again, her heart full but not as heavy as before.

“Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad,” she whispered.

And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could keep moving forward.