Page 26 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
She was better company than I had any reason to expect, and the night has that particular kind of dark that I don't want to take back to my empty house. Two facts. Not a plan.
Reluctantly I take one step back anyway. "Take care. Drive safe."
She nods. I turn and take a few more steps toward the parking structure.
"Wanna go somewhere and—"
I turn around before she finishes.
She's standing with one hand on the door handle and an expression that has more in it than the question. Trying to stay casual and not quite succeeding.
The exhale that leaves me is more honest than I intended. "Yeah," I say. "But where, at this hour?"
Her smile widens. "I know a place." She nods at the passenger door. "Hop in."
I go around to the passenger side and try the handle.
Nothing.
I try it again with more deliberate intent. The metal is cold and slightly rough under my fingers where rust is starting to lift at the edges, and the door is absolutely not interested in what I'm doing.
Sienna appears beside me.
She smells like something floral that clears out the last of the antiseptic. She steps in front of me, fits her hand over the handle, pushes it forward and then pulls sharply right. The door swings open with a complaint of old metal.
"She's particular," Sienna says, matter-of-fact.
There is now an open truck door that cocoons us from the rest of the world. Both of us standing in the space it creates.
"Let's get on the—" she starts.
My hand closes around her wrist. Gently. Grounding.
She goes still but doesn't pull away. Her eyes come up to mine and wait. Not unnerved. Just waiting, with that particular quality of attention she has. The willingness to hold a moment without needing to fill it, and something about it makes it harder to be measured about what I say next.
"There's something you should know," I say quietly. The kind of quiet that belongs to this hour.
A small crease appears between her brows. "Okay."
"I'm not Paula's lawyer anymore."
She holds my gaze. "Why?"
I hold hers.
"Because that would be a conflict of interests," I confess. "There's something more interesting I want to explore."
10
SIENNA
"Well," Adrian says. "I wasn't expecting this."
We're still in the truck, parked outside the Huntington Botanical Garden's service entrance, the engine ticking as it cools. Adrian is looking at the gate, then at me, then back at the gate. The darkness is thinning. Not dawn yet, but close.
This place is like my second home. The first time I came here I was nineteen and broke. Someone had given me a free pass and I spent four hours in the Japanese Garden alone. I went home lighter than I'd been in years. I've been coming back ever since.
Adrian is still looking at the gate. I watch the way he takes it in without comment.
