The city never really slept, but it did learn to whisper after dark.
From my office window, the lights below looked like stars that had forgotten how to rise. My reflection stared back at me in the glass sleeves rolled up, tie abandoned somewhere hours ago, the kind of exhaustion that didn't come from lack of sleep but from restraint.
Damien's report glowed on my tablet, lines of surveillance notes and timestamps. Kai Louis, ever the picture of composure met with a contact at a riverside café, exchanged a sealed envelope, disappeared into a car that wasn't registered to him. Every move neat, deliberate. Calculated.
I hated men like that.
Mostly because I used to be one.
A soft ping interrupted my thoughts an alert from the security feed. Sienna's office lights were still on. Of course they were. Midnight and she was still there, drowning in work to avoid thinking. I almost smiled, bitterly. That woman would rather bleed efficiency than admit she was hurt.
I should have left her alone.
But I didn't build my empire on shoulds.
"Patch me into her floor cameras," I said to Damien through the comm.
He hesitated, then complied. The feed shifted, and there she was jacket off, hair tied up, pacing like she was arguing with ghosts.
Something twisted in my chest.
I didn't want to spy on her; I wanted to understand her. But with Sienna, the two things always looked the same.
I turned off the screen before I could convince myself I was doing this for her safety. Maybe I was. Maybe not.
I poured a drink instead neat scotch, amber and quiet. The burn steadied me.
They thought they could use her. Kai, Blackwood, her uncle and aunt, Even the shareholders whispering in corners. They saw a woman running an empire and assumed she needed saving or steering. They had no idea that beneath her calm, she was made of iron.
And maybe that was why she terrified me. Because iron could withstand pressure, but it could also snap if struck the wrong way.
I set the glass down, jaw tight.
Tomorrow, I'd deal with Blackwood. Tonight, I'd watch from the sidelines and pretend that was enough.
Except it never was.
I picked up my phone again, thumb hovering over her number.
Don't. Don't call her.
I called her.
It rang twice before she answered, her voice tired but steady. "Cyrus?"
For a second, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched, familiar, dangerous.
"I just wanted to make sure you are safe," I lied.
She exhaled softly. "I'm fine."
I could almost hear her glance away, that tiny pause she made when she was about to say something she'd regret. But instead she said, "See you later, Cyrus."
Click.
I stared at the phone. Then laughed quietly, shaking my head.
Impossible woman.
I finished my drink and turned back to the window, watching the city move beneath me. Somewhere out there, pieces were already shifting. By morning, someone would realize they'd made a very expensive mistake crossing me.
And when they did, I hoped they'd look Sienna in the eye and realize exactly who they'd underestimated.