Playing Strangers

I stared at Sienna. My jaw locked tight, my teeth grinding together as I forced down the violent storm of emotions threatening to rip through my carefully controlled expression. She looked absolutely terrified. Panic radiated from every inch of her rigid posture. Her wide, frantic eyes darted across my face, searching for any sign of mercy. Her skin had drained of all color, leaving her face as pale and hollow as a corpse. I could see the exact moment her brain short-circuited, the realization hitting her like a speeding freight train.

I felt the shock punch me square in the chest. It was a physical blow, heavy and suffocating. But I had spent years mastering my composure in boardrooms and hostile negotiations. I buried the shock instantly, shoving it deep down where no one could see. I kept my face an unreadable, stone-cold mask. I betrayed absolutely nothing to the room.

But underneath that calm exterior, a dark, simmering anger began to boil in my veins. This was her. This was the woman standing in my best friend's house, wearing a conservative navy dress and playing the role of the innocent, blushing bride-to-be. Did she know who I was when she threw herself at me last night? Did she know she was spreading her legs for her fiancé's best friend?

The sickening truth twisted like a knife in my gut. The woman I had fucked bare, the one who had moaned and writhed under me, begging for my cock while a party raged downstairs, was Preston’s fiancée.

“Sienna,” Preston said.

His voice broke through the suffocating silence, snapping her out of her paralyzed trance. He frowned, his brow furrowing as his eyes scanned her frozen, rigid stance. He had no idea. The poor bastard was completely clueless to the fact that his perfect future wife had been gagging on my dick twelve hours ago.

Sienna blinked rapidly. The reality of her situation finally crashed down on her. She realized she had been staring at me like a deer caught in headlights in front of Preston and his mother. Her lips parted, and she forced a fragile, trembling smile onto her face. Her fingers twitched helplessly against the fabric of her skirt, betraying the sheer panic tearing her apart inside.

“Are you okay? Your face is as white as a sheet,” Preston asked. Genuine concern laced his tone. He reached out and gently grasped her hand. If only he knew the real reason she looked like she was about to bolt out the front door and run for the hills.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly. Her voice came out a touch too high, entirely unconvincing. Her eyes flicked to me for a fraction of a second, filled with raw dread, before darting away to stare at the mahogany floorboards.

Preston’s gaze shifted between us. His eyes narrowed slightly, a faint shadow of suspicion creeping into his expression. He wasn't stupid, even if he was blinded by love right now. “Do you two know each other?” he asked, his tone careful and searching.

Sienna opened her mouth, but panic choked her words. She stood there, mute and trembling.

I cut in before she could stumble through a pathetic lie. “No, we don’t.”

She looked physically shocked by my response. Her eyes widened, her lips parting as she stared at me in disbelief. Did she really think I was going to announce the truth right here? Did she expect me to stand over Beatrice’s elegant dining table and tell Preston that his fiancée was the dirty little slut I had pounded into the mattress last night? I wasn't going to blow up my best friend's life like that. Not yet.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she managed to say after a suffocating beat of silence. Her voice steadied a fraction, though her hands trembled visibly as she smoothed down the front of her dress. “Preston has said a lot about you.”

I nodded, playing along with the twisted charade. I let my lips curve into a polite, hollow smile that didn't reach my eyes. “I hope it’s the good stuff.”

Preston seemed to relax. The tension bled out of his shoulders. He pulled Sienna closer, wrapping a firm arm around her waist. My eyes dropped to his hand. It was a possessive, deliberate gesture. A clear message to the room: she was his. I forced my gaze away, my stomach turning at the sight.

“Sienna, this is my best friend, Roman Hargrove,” Preston announced. His voice swelled with pride and blind affection. “Roman, this is my fiancée, Sienna Brooks.”

I extended my right hand toward her. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I kept my tone perfectly neutral, stripped of any emotion. But I locked my eyes onto hers, sending a silent, brutal challenge. Let’s see how good of a liar you really are.

She stared at my outstretched hand like it was a coiled snake. Her breath hitched in her throat. She hesitated for a long, agonizing second, her fear palpable. Slowly, she raised her arm. Her fingers brushed against mine in the briefest, most pathetic handshake I had ever experienced. Her skin was ice-cold and slick with clammy sweat.

The second our skin made contact, she jerked her hand back. She recoiled as if my touch had physically burned her flesh. A hot flush of red flooded her pale cheeks. She tucked her hands behind her back, her chest heaving slightly. If she didn’t want Preston to suspect anything, she needed to get her act together immediately. Her sheer, overwhelming nervousness was practically screaming her guilt to the entire room.

“Why don’t we all sit and finish dinner?” Beatrice stepped in. Her polished voice cut through the thick tension like a knife. She gestured toward the long, decadent dining table, clearly eager to move past the awkward standing introduction.

We moved to the table and took our seats. The staff poured fresh wine and the clinking of silverware resumed, but the atmosphere had shifted into something suffocating and heavy.

I sat directly across from them. Sienna could not sit still. She kept stealing frantic, nervous glances at me. Every time I shifted in my heavy oak chair, every time I picked up my glass, her eyes darted toward me in sheer panic. She looked like she expected me to drop the bombshell at any given second. I could practically hear the frantic pounding of her heart echoing across the table. Her fear was a tangible, living thing in the room.

She sat rigid, her back ramrod straight against the chair. Her fork trembled visibly in her grip as she aimlessly pushed a piece of roasted meat around her porcelain plate. She wasn't eating a single bite.

Strangely, I found myself attuned to her every single movement. I didn't want to look at her. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with her after the filthy reality of last night. But I was hyper-aware of her presence. Without even looking directly at her, I noticed the white-knuckle grip she had on the stem of her water glass. I heard the sharp, shallow hitch in her breath every time our lines of sight accidentally crossed.

It disturbed me. This magnetic awareness of her infuriated me. She was my best friend’s fiancée, and she was clearly a calculating gold digger who had clawed her way into Preston’s wealthy, elite world. I didn’t mess with women like that. They were leeches.

Thankfully, Beatrice spoke up, pulling my attention away from Sienna’s pathetic, anxious fidgeting.

“So, Roman, how has work been? You’ve barely made time to visit us since you moved to London,” Beatrice asked. Her tone was warm and familiar. She rested her perfectly manicured fingers elegantly against the base of her wine glass.

I leaned back in my chair, forcing a casual, relaxed smile for Preston's mother. “Just been busy. The business requires my presence a lot.”

Beatrice nodded, her lips pursed in polite understanding. “I get it. Business before pleasure.”

“Exactly.” I let my gaze slide over to Sienna for a long, deliberate moment before returning my attention to Beatrice. “Though it’s nice to see Preston finally settling down. Never thought I’d see the day.”

I turned my body slightly, focusing entirely on Sienna. I let my voice take on a sharp, teasing edge, masking the calculating hostility beneath it. “I’m curious about the woman who managed to get Preston to agree to walk down the aisle. How did you two meet?”

Sienna just kept poking at her food. The metal fork scraped softly against the ceramic plate. She didn't respond. She didn't even seem to hear me. Her eyes were distant, glassy, entirely lost in whatever panicked scenario was playing out in her head.

Preston leaned over and tapped her gently on the arm. His brow creased with worry. “Sienna?”

She jolted in her seat. Her head snapped up, her wide eyes darting to meet everyone’s stare at the table. I caught a glimpse of Beatrice’s face. The older woman’s lips were thinned into a tight, irritated line. She clearly did not approve of Sienna's lack of grace. That made two of us.

“Yes?” Sienna squeaked. Her voice was small, fragile. The flush in her cheeks deepened under our collective scrutiny.

“Roman asked you a question,” Preston said. He kept his tone patient, but firm.

“Oh. Sorry, I got lost for a moment,” she mumbled. She reached up with a shaking hand and nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

I gave her a slow, chilling smile. I narrowed my eyes, dissecting her on the spot. “It’s alright. I asked how you two met. It’s just surprising that Preston would want to settle down after knowing you for, what, like two months?”

“Three months,” she corrected quietly. Her voice barely registered above a whisper. “We’ve known each other for three months. We met in the lobby of the company. I was working as a receptionist…”

That caught my attention immediately. My mental alarms blared. I raised a single eyebrow and leaned forward, resting my forearms on the edge of the table. “You’re a receptionist? Really?”

I shifted my gaze to Preston, letting thick, unapologetic disbelief drip from my words. “A receptionist? Really?”

Preston had always been careful. He never messed around with the help. He certainly didn't wife up the girl answering phones in the lobby.

Sienna’s head snapped toward me. A sudden flash of defensive offense pierced through her terror. She lifted her chin, trying to muster some pathetic shred of dignity. “Yes. Is there a problem?” Her voice was sharper now, carrying a defensive edge, even though her hands were still shaking violently in her lap.

“No, I’m just intrigued,” I replied. I kept my smile tight, merciless. “Preston never seemed like the type to go after junior staff.”

“Our status didn’t matter to us,” she fired back. She found a sudden burst of strength, glancing at Preston. Her expression immediately softened into a sickening display of devotion. “It was love at first sight.”

Preston smiled like a love-struck fool. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

My stomach twisted with raw disgust. Love at first sight? What an absolute, unadulterated load of shit. This was a calculated, vicious move to climb the social ladder. She had secured the billionaire heir, trapped him with a ring, and then decided to get herself fucked by a stranger the night before her engagement party just for the thrill of it.

I leaned back in my chair and watched her closely. The memory of last night burned violently behind my eyes. The way she had gasped, the way her wet cunt had gripped my cock, the desperate, filthy noises she had made against my skin. There was nothing innocent about Sienna Brooks. Whatever twisted, manipulative game she was playing, she had made one fatal mistake. She had crossed paths with me.

I made a silent vow right then and there. I was going to watch her every single move. I would shadow her. I would wait for her to slip up and expose her true nature. I was not going to let this scheming gold digger drag Preston down, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let her drag me down with her. I would wait, and I would watch her ruin herself.