Sienna

I've always been the type of person to over-exert myself. I've never been able to relax, and that's presumably why my work ethic is top-tier. As soon as I've achieved something, I look for what's next. Living in the moment means thinking about the past; there's nothing sentimental about that.

Which is why, after closing the Le Beaute deal, I'm focused entirely on finding an available warehouse for Camille rather than celebrating that I closed the deal in the first place. If I fail to hold on to the terms of our contract, she can back out, and I refuse to let that happen.

Restlessness churns in my gut along with hunger, reminding me I haven't eaten since this morning. Glancing at the clock above my office door, it's already 7:00, which means I've stayed much later than I should have, and I've achieved nothing today aside from strenuous meetings.

A rapping of knuckles chimes off on the doorway, and a grin threatens against my lips at the sight of Lincoln carrying a bag of Chinese takeout—my knight in shining armor.

"Aren't I just the luckiest girl in the world," I hum, already reaching for the bag. "I thought I wouldn't see you for a few days."

Lincoln was going to revisit the Los Angeles location to check in on the progress of the renovations with a few of his elite staff members and Margo. He protested that I come with him, but with all the work I have to do to close this deal, I declined. I have to visit the locations of the warehouses to see if they're viable options for Camille, and if I want the continued help of my staff for scouting locations, I don't have much time left with Christmas approaching next week. Camille is coming the second week of January, which means I need to get a move on and find something.

"Figured I'd stop in before my flight leaves. I know how consumed you can get with work, and I'll be damned if I leave you on an empty stomach."

Instead of a suit, he's dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt that fits his figure just right. A Rolex cuffs his right wrist, sparkling in the light as he shifts to roll his sleeves up.

"I don't have to go," he adds quietly.

"Yes, you do. This is your company, Lincoln. It'd look bad if you didn't go."

"But with everything still so uncertain with Travis..." I attempt to hide the flinch that crosses my face at the mention of his name, but Lincoln catches it, his eyes softening. "We still don't know if someone in our inner circle is the culprit, and I don't want to leave only to have Travis jump at the first chance you're alone."

The box of Sweet and Sour Chicken lands in front of me, but I'm no longer hungry, not after the mention of Travis. I can still smell his breath laced with cigarettes... The must of his unwashed body... The pure terror racing through my blood when he cornered me at that hotel.

"I won't be alone, remember? Carmen and Riley will be staying with me for the next few days."

Lincoln slumps into his chair. "Fair enough, but couldn't you have sent anyone else on this trip with me aside from Reed? Between him and Jett, I'm going to die a slow death."

A laugh bubbles in my chest. "Someone from my team needs to go, Linc. Our businesses are partners, after all. The renovations reflect my company as much as they do yours. I trust Reed with this."

He arches a brow. "You do?"

Reed has proven himself after the first scare I encountered in Los Angeles. He helped watch over the company while I attempted to heal and never asked for anything in return. As much as I should be mad at him, the anger isn't there. I know firsthand what a threat Travis can be, so I'm not upset Reed didn't want anything to do with me after that. I can't say I blame him.

"I do," I reply, my lips forming a thin line. "Just try not to enter into a dick-measuring contest before the trip is over."

Lincoln rolls his eyes, rising to his feet and leaning over the desk to kiss me quickly. "I have to go, or I'll miss my flight, and now I have to make a pitstop at the apartment."

"For what?"

He exits my office, almost bumping into Rachel as he calls over his shoulder, "A tape measure."

I don't need to see him to know he's smiling.

Ugh. Men and their constant need to be territorial.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." Rachel holds a manilla file tucked into her elbow, unsure whether or not to enter. "I was about to head out, but I saw you were still here, and I think I found some good locations for Camille..."

Rachel, who is typically chipper and polished to perfection, currently sports bags under her eyes. Her blonde hair is clipped back rather than in luscious curls, and for the first time, I can't remember when her last day off was.

"Thanks, Rachel. You can leave it on my desk. Also, feel free to take the day off tomorrow."

Her eyes grow wide as saucers. "What? N-no, I couldn't ask that—"

"You didn't ask. I'm telling you." Rachel is studying at NYU and has been the best assistant I could ever ask for for the past four years. She's quiet, follows orders, and hasn't called in sick a day since she got hired. She has a fiance studying law, and with how often she's at my office, I doubt they spend enough time together.

Sometimes I forget that others want to start a family someday and have a life outside of work. I mean, I offer all of my employees incredible pay and the best benefits I can, but until I met Lincoln, it was hard for me to truly understand a work-life balance. Before him, I didn't have anyone to look forward to coming home to, and Rachel has a Lincoln of her own at home. She deserves the time off.

"Have a long weekend," I add when she's still standing there frozen in shock. I'm not going to comment on her appearance because it'd be rude, but Rachel seems to get the hint, reaching up to slim the stray hairs poking out of her clip.

"Thank you," she replies. "I'll see you Monday."

When she's gone and I'm left alone, I spend the next half-hour going through the folder she left on my desk. All the locations hold great potential, and I leave a sticky note reminding me to thank her for the suggestions. She's studying business and got the gig as my assistant to gain insight into the inner workings of a successful company. Maybe I'll have her take a break from being my assistant some time to get her advice on more trivial matters. She could be helpful. More valuable than hiding behind a desk, answering my calls all day, and running my errands.

The motion lights click off outside the office, leaving just the single fluorescent light above my desk and the city lights behind me through the window.

Why did they just now shut off?

Suddenly, fear laces up my spine, wrapping around my heart and clutching it like an iron chain. That eerie feeling I got the other day during lunch with Carmen seeps back in, but the lights are motion-censored. If someone were in here, they'd click back on.

I'm just overreacting.

Still, the feeling draws my business day to a close. I pack my things up within minutes, sliding my gloves on and finishing the last buttons of my peacoat before I turn for the door.

But the motion lights are back on.

My hand is on the handle of the door in seconds, and I close the door shut to my office, locking myself inside. There's a thin strip of glass on either side of the entrance overlooking the rest of the office, but I don't see anyone out there. Sometimes, something random will set them off, but now? When I got that feeling of someone watching me just seconds before they turned on?

It's just a coincidence, I tell myself. It's fine. Everything's fine.

Standing in my office isn't going to do much help, especially if someone is looking for me. My office is the first place they'll search.

Lincoln can't miss his flight, and he's already at the airport by now. There's little he can do being forty minutes away.

With a few blinks, I make up my mind and dig into my purse to hold my pepper spray in one hand and my pocket knife in the other (a gift courtesy of Lincoln after he taught me how to use it) before I stride out into the office and head straight for the emergency exit. Fuck waiting for the elevator. I'm taking the stairs.

Adrenaline is coursing through my veins with every step I take, the silence nearly deafening aside from the beating of my heart roaring in my ears.

This time, though, I refuse to let Travis win. He won't make me cower and hide in fear of him.

That's what I attempt to tell myself as my heels clatter down the concrete steps around and around, down and down the endless stairs. I don't have it in me to glance over my shoulder to see if someone's following me, but I hear thuds other than mine. Boots? Sneakers? I can't tell. Not when my only focus is getting the fuck out of here alive. The last time I saw him, I froze, and if it's really him in this stairwell, I don't have the time to freeze.

The steps grow nearer and quicken their pace, and the red exit sign is right in front of me. I can almost touch it.

Just a few more steps.

A few more...

I burst out into the frigid streets of New York with a hand over my thumping heart, whirling to the stairwell that's...empty. There's no one there. Not that I can see from where I'm standing anyway, and there's no way in hell I'm going back in there to investigate.

Am I going insane?

Was it my anxiety curating the sound of footsteps? I could have sworn there was someone else with me. I could feel their stare on my back.

"Miss Stone?" I jump out of my skin, turning back around to see my driver, TJ, idling against the curb in a black SUV. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I mean...no, I..." Gripping my coat tighter around me, I rush into the car, slipping my gloves off as I say, "I think someone was following me." My driver isn't the first person I should be telling this to, but I'm in shock and need to tell someone. TJ just happens to be the closest ear.

He furrows his brow in the mirror at me. "Why didn't you call? I could have escorted you."

"You're my driver," I explain. "Not my security." And the security Lincoln hired who did watch me was supposed to survey the outside of my building while I was at work. They never came inside. I didn't even know they were there half the time. And even if it was them, why wouldn't they announce themselves? They wouldn't follow me like that down a stairwell.

He scoffs. "If you're in danger, you call me. I'll be there."

I nod, still panting and out of breath as I pull my phone out of my pocket. Lincoln will be the last person to hear about this. The second he hears of me being in danger, he'll be on the next returning flight to New York, but he needs to be a CEO this weekend, not my protector.

Instead, I call the security staff to my building and request all the footage from the last hour be sent directly to my email, and then I reach out to Archer to have him call me as soon as possible.

I'm Sienna freaking Stone, and I'm done being scared.

This time, I'm taking matters into my own hands.