Chapter 5 A Crack In The Mirror

Sienna told herself she was fine. That lunch had been nothing. Adrian Blackwood was a master manipulator, an expert at unsettling people, and she refused to let him get under her skin. And yet, long after they had returned to the office, his words still lingered. "None of them would have entertained me quite like you do." She could still hear them, low and smooth, like a deliberate brush against her self-control. Damn him. Sienna sat at her desk, scrolling through emails she wasn’t really reading, trying to focus. It wasn’t easy when she could feel Adrian in his office just beyond the glass partition. She needed a distraction. Just as she reached for a report, her phone buzzed. A message from him. Adrian Blackwood: My office. Now. Sienna exhaled, steeling herself before rising. --- Behind Closed Doors She stepped inside without hesitation, standing tall as she faced him. Adrian leaned against his desk, suit jacket gone, sleeves rolled up again. Of course. The image was infuriatingly effortless. His presence alone filled the space, as if he had designed it to accommodate nothing but himself. “You needed something, Mr. Blackwood?” Her voice was crisp, controlled. He studied her for a moment, fingers tapping lightly against the desk. “Sit.” Sienna hesitated. He arched a brow, amused. “Are you suddenly incapable of following instructions?” She narrowed her eyes and sat across from him, crossing her legs. If he wanted to test her, she’d meet him halfway. Adrian smirked. “I have a task for you.” She waited. “I want you to accompany me to the charity gala this weekend.” Sienna blinked. That was unexpected. “That’s not in my job description,” she said carefully. His smirk didn’t waver. “Neither was lunch, and yet, here we are.” Her jaw tightened. “You have a public relations team that handles these events.” “I don’t want my PR team. I want you.” There it was again. That deliberate push. She exhaled through her nose. “Is this a request or an order?” A beat of silence. Then— “A challenge.” Sienna’s pulse spiked. She knew what he was doing. Daring her. Testing how far he could push before she broke. And she hated that it worked. Still, she refused to let him win. She leaned forward just slightly, tilting her head. “Then I suppose I’ll see you at the gala, Mr. Blackwood.” Something flickered in his eyes—approval, interest, something darker. “Good,” he murmured. Sienna rose, forcing herself to maintain composure as she walked toward the door. “Wear something red,” he added. She paused, glancing back. “Excuse me?” Adrian smirked, slow and knowing. “You’ll look good in it.” Sienna’s stomach clenched. But she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. She simply walked out, closing the door behind her. Her hands, she realized, were shaking. --- A Dangerous Weekend Ahead Sienna spent the rest of the day ignoring the way her skin still burned from Adrian’s words. She kept busy, immersed in work, but as she left the office that evening, one thought refused to leave her mind. She had agreed to the gala. She had accepted the challenge. And she had the unsettling feeling that, come Saturday night, she wouldn’t leave the same woman she had walked in as. Sienna spent the rest of the afternoon convincing herself that Adrian’s invitation—no, his challenge—to the gala was just another task. Another obligation, nothing more. And yet, as she gathered her things to leave for the evening, the memory of his smirk, his deliberate push, clung to her thoughts like an unwanted shadow. “Wear something red.” She hated how those three words had wrapped around her mind, needling at her resistance, coaxing out a reaction she refused to acknowledge. She wasn’t playing his game. And she certainly wasn’t dressing for him. --- Unwanted Thoughts By the time she arrived home, Sienna was exhausted—mentally, not physically. The type of exhaustion that came from trying too hard to ignore something, only to fail miserably. She tossed her bag onto the couch and went straight to her bedroom, stripping off her blouse and slacks as she walked. A long, hot shower should have helped, but even with the scalding water washing over her skin, she couldn’t shake the tension sitting heavy in her chest. Adrian was getting to her. It had started with sharp words and subtle challenges, but now… now, it was something else. Something she couldn’t quite define. And she hated it. She wrapped herself in a towel and walked to her closet, pulling the doors open in frustration. Her fingers hovered over a black evening gown. Safe. Classic. Professional. Then her gaze drifted lower—to a red dress she had nearly forgotten she owned. It was bold. Unapologetic. The kind of dress that demanded attention. She didn’t pick it. Not yet. Instead, she shut the closet and walked away. --- The Night of the Gala Sienna arrived at the venue at precisely eight o’clock. The grand ballroom was bathed in golden light, chandeliers casting an elegant glow over the high-profile guests that filled the space. The air buzzed with the sound of polished conversation, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the occasional burst of laughter. And then there was him. Adrian Blackwood stood near the entrance, effortlessly commanding attention in a tailored black tuxedo. He was speaking with an older gentleman—one of the board members, she guessed—but his gaze flickered toward her the moment she entered. A slow, deliberate sweep from head to toe. She saw the faint smirk tug at his lips before he turned back to his conversation. Sienna exhaled, pushing away the awareness curling in her stomach. She made her way deeper into the room, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. A familiar voice sounded behind her. “I see you took my suggestion.” She turned to find Adrian standing at her side, his gaze lingering on the red dress she had sworn she wouldn’t wear. Damn it. She lifted her chin. “I wasn’t aware I was taking suggestions.” His smirk deepened. “Of course not.” Sienna took a sip of her champagne, keeping her expression unreadable. “I assume there’s a reason you asked me to be here?” “There is.” He glanced around the room before meeting her gaze again. “Dance with me.” She barely managed to keep her expression neutral. “Excuse me?” His voice was low, velvety. “You heard me.” The challenge in his tone was unmistakable. Sienna hesitated for a fraction of a second—one second too long. Adrian took the glass from her hand and set it aside before extending his own. “Afraid?” Her jaw clenched. There it was again. That damn push. She could walk away. Ignore him. Or she could show him that she wasn’t afraid of whatever game he was playing. With a slow, deliberate motion, she placed her hand in his. A flicker of something dark passed through his eyes as he led her onto the dance floor. --- The Dance Adrian moved with effortless confidence, guiding her through the steps with a touch that was firm yet controlled. Not demanding, but not gentle either. He was testing her. Sienna met his gaze, refusing to look away. “If this is your idea of work, I think I’m due for a raise.” His lips curved, his hand tightening slightly at her waist. “Careful, Miss Locke. I reward good behavior… and I punish resistance.” A shiver ghosted down her spine before she could stop it. She exhaled sharply. “I don’t play games.” Adrian leaned in just enough that his breath brushed against her ear. “You’re playing one now.” The music swelled around them, but all Sienna could focus on was the press of his palm against her back, the way his thumb brushed ever so slightly along the curve of her waist. The worst part? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull away or let herself fall into it. A dangerous line. A line she couldn’t afford to cross. --- The First Real Crack As the music faded, Sienna pulled back, breaking the connection first. Adrian let her go, his expression unreadable—but his eyes said everything. He had won this round. But the game was far from over. Sienna inhaled, steadying herself. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll be enjoying the rest of the event on my own.” She turned on her heel and walked away without waiting for a response. She didn’t see the smirk that crossed his lips. Didn’t see the way his gaze followed her, full of unspoken promises. She only felt the weight of his presence lingering behind her. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape it. Or sink into it completely.