Page 42 of Arranged with Twins

Sienna

T he café on Fifth Avenue buzzes with the usual afternoon crowd, but I barely notice the conversations swirling around me. I stir my decaf latte absently while waiting for Nadia, replaying the confrontation with Leo over and over until my head pounds.

“You look like hell.” Nadia slides into the chair across from me, her designer handbag landing on the table with a soft thud.

“Thanks. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.” I take a sip of my coffee, though it tastes like cardboard.

“Sorry.” She signals the waitress for her usual cappuccino. “What happened? Your text just said you needed to talk.”

“Leo thinks my father is a traitor.” The words come out flat and matter-of-fact, though they feel like swallowing glass.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “What kind of traitor?”

“The kind who sells information to Leo’s enemies and helps plan his murder.” I set down my cup with more force than necessary. “According to Leo, Father owes fifteen million dollars to some guy named Adrian, and he’s been paying it back by feeding him intelligence about Leo’s operations.”

“Shit.” She leans back in her chair. “That’s serious.”

“Or it’s complete fabrication designed to isolate me from my family.” I cross my arms. “Leo’s shown me bank records and phone transcripts, but I can’t verify any of it independently. How convenient that this evidence surfaces just when he wants me to move into his fortress permanently.”

The waitress brings Nadia’s cappuccino, and she takes a thoughtful sip before responding. “Sienna, honey, I love you, but when has Leo ever lied to you?”

I stare at her. “How would I know? We’ve only been engaged for a few months.”

“He could have let you remain in the mold your mother created, but he supported you in choosing your own style. He could have pretended the orange diamond engagement ring was his only choice instead of admitting he went back to get you something better. He could have?—”

Slightly shaken by her points, but still angry and clinging to the certainty this is all another tactic to control me, I interrupt her. “Those aren’t the same thing. This is about my family.”

“Exactly.” She sets down her cup and fixes me with a steady look.

“Your family, who’s controlled every aspect of your life since birth.

Your family, who arranged this marriage without asking what you wanted.

Your family, who dismissed your friend’s wedding dress design because it didn’t fit their image. ”

“That’s different?—”

“Is it?” She reaches across the table to touch my hand. “Sienna, your parents have never told you the truth about anything important. Why would they start now?”

The question sits between us while I struggle to find an answer. “Father wouldn’t sell out Leo to save himself, and he wouldn’t use me to take over his territory.” Even though I deny it, I’m not entirely sure I believe the words.

“Wouldn’t he?” Nadia’s voice is gentle but relentless. “When’s the last time Vincent put your interests ahead of his own?”

I open my mouth to respond, then close it.

The truth is, I can’t remember a single instance where Father chose my happiness over his business interests or social standing.

“What about when he sheltered Leo after his parents died?” I grasp for something that proves Father’s loyalty. “That was honorable.”

“That was nineteen years ago, and it was probably good business.” Nadia doesn’t soften her assessment. “Leo was the heir to a powerful syndicate. Helping him meant future connections and influence.”

Her words sting because they sound plausible. “You don’t know that.”

“I know your father.” She leans forward. “Remember when you wanted to major in fashion design instead of business? He threatened to cut off your tuition unless you chose something more ‘practical’ for the Cooper image.”

The memory makes my chest ache. I’d spent weeks researching programs, sketching designs, and dreaming of creating something beautiful. Father dismissed it in thirty seconds. “That’s not the same as betraying Leo.”

“I don’t know.” Nadia tilts her head. “Both situations involve him prioritizing his needs over yours. The only difference is scale.”

I want to argue, but the parallels are uncomfortably clear. Father has never hesitated to sacrifice my preferences for his vision of what’s best for the family name.

“Look,” Nadia continues, “I’m not saying Leo’s right about everything. Maybe the evidence is fabricated, or maybe there’s another explanation, but if someone found proof that my father was endangering my life, I’d at least want to hear them out.”

“He’s had this information for weeks and didn’t tell me.” My voice cracks slightly. “He waited until I was deeper into the pregnancy and leaving would be harder.”

“Or maybe he waited until you were past the highest risk period for miscarriage.” Nadia’s suggestion makes me pause since it mirrors Leo’s claims. “You said yourself you’ve been exhausted and nauseated. Adding family betrayal to that stress could have been dangerous.”

“He should have trusted me to handle it.”

“Should he?” Nadia’s question is gentle but pointed. “You’re sitting here assuming the worst about his motives instead of considering he might be trying to protect you and the babies.”

I stare into my latte, watching the foam dissolve. She’s right, and I hate that she’s right. My first instinct was to assume manipulation rather than protection. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Then find out.” She squeezes my hand. “Talk to your father directly. Ask him about Adrian, about the money, and everything else. If Leo’s lying, Vincent will have answers.” She looks concerned. “Not that he’ll necessarily tell you the truth.”

I nod, unable to deny that possibility. “What should I do if Leo’s telling the truth?”

“You’ll know your father isn’t the man you thought he was, and you can decide what to do next.” Her expression softens. “Either way, you deserve to know.”

“I’m scared,” I say quietly. “What if everything I believed about my family is wrong?”

“It will suck, and you’ll have to decide who you want to be moving forward.” Nadia’s voice is warm but firm. “You can’t build a future on lies, even comfortable ones.”

The truth of her words resonate. “Leo built a nursery, with two cribs, toys, books, and everything else our children will need. He wants me to move in permanently and says my penthouse isn’t safe anymore.”

“Is he wrong?” Nadia raises an eyebrow. “If your father really is involved with dangerous people, staying isolated makes you vulnerable.”

I consider this. Leo’s estate has security I can’t even see, guards who patrol the grounds, and protocols I don’t understand but that clearly work.

My penthouse has a doorman and some basic building security.

I have bodyguards I never see, but that doesn’t seem all that reassuring right now.

“I accused him of trying to control me.”

“I’m not surprised, because that’s what you’re used to.” Nadia’s assessment is matter-of-fact. “Your parents have controlled you your entire life, so you assume everyone else will too, but maybe Leo’s different.”

I bite my lip. “How can I tell the difference between protection and possession?”

“Protection respects your choices even when they’re inconvenient. Possession eliminates choices entirely.” She finishes her cappuccino and checks her watch. “I have to get back to the studio. The gala dress needs final adjustments.”

“The gala.” I’d forgotten about Friday’s event entirely. “I’m supposed to wear your creation.”

“You are, assuming you and Leo work this out.” She stands and slings her handbag over her shoulder. “The dress is beautiful, by the way. That gold silk will make you look like a goddess.”

We gather our things and head toward the exit. “What would you do?” I ask as we reach the corner where we’ll part ways. “If you were me?”

“I’d confront Vincent, who will probably deny everything.” Nadia hugs me tightly. “Then I’d call Leo and ask to see the evidence again. Really look at it this time, without assuming the worst about his motives.”

“What if it’s all true?”

“At least you’ll know who you can trust and who you can’t.” She pulls back to meet my gaze. “Either way, you need to know. Whatever you decide, I’m here for you, but don’t let fear of the truth keep you from seeking it.”

I walk slowly toward my building, turning her words over in my mind. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should at least listen to Leo’s evidence before dismissing it entirely. Maybe?—

“Miss Cooper?”

The voice comes from behind me, unfamiliar and sharp. I turn to see three men in dark clothing approaching from a black SUV that’s pulled up to the curb. Something in their purposeful stride makes my pulse spike.

My first thought is that these might be more of Leo’s security people, but something feels wrong. They move too aggressively, with too much focus, and I don’t recognize any of them. “Can I help you?” I take a step backward, suddenly aware of how empty this particular stretch of sidewalk is.

The nearest man reaches inside his jacket, and I see the grip of a weapon. “You need to come with us.”

“I don’t think so.” I turn to run, but another man blocks my path, appearing from behind a parked car. “Get away from me.”

I scream as loudly as I can, hoping someone will hear, but strong hands grab my arms before I can break free.

I fight with everything I have, clawing at faces, kicking at shins, and trying to break their grip through sheer desperation.

I just have to buy time to give my bodyguards time to act, because I’m sure they’re still watching me.

I’m grateful rather than irritated now, and I wish I hadn’t been so insistent on them maintaining their distance.

“Stop struggling,” one of them demands in accented English.

“Let me go.” I drive my elbow backward and connect with something solid, probably a rib. The man curses in what sounds like Russian.

One of my kicks connects hard with someone’s knee, and he stumbles backward, loosening his grip enough that I almost break free. I make it three steps before they grab me again, this time more roughly.

“Bitch,” one of them mutters, and I see blood running from scratches I left on his cheek.

More SUVs screech around opposite corners. These are different vehicles with different men. I think they might be my protection detail until I see guns drawn on both sides. The realization hits me that this is about to become a war zone, and I’m in the middle of it.

A firefight erupts behind us as my captors drag me toward their waiting vehicle. Gunshots echo off the buildings, and I hear someone screaming. It might be me, or maybe it’s someone else.

“Move, move!” someone shouts in English.

They throw me into the back seat between two men while the driver guns the engine. My shoulder hits the door frame hard enough to make me gasp, but there’s no time to process the pain.

I hear the crash of metal and breaking glass as we slam through another SUV trying to block our path.

The impact throws me forward, then back against the seat.

Through the rear window, I see muzzle flashes and men taking cover behind cars.

One of Leo’s security team is down, blood spreading across his white shirt, but others are still fighting.

“Leo’s men,” one of my captors says into a radio before spitting something in Russian that sounds like a curse.

I lean across the one on the phone to try the door handle, but it doesn’t budge. Child safety locks, probably. “Who are you? What do you want?”

No one answers. The man to my left reaches into a small case and withdraws a syringe filled with clear liquid. The sight of it makes my blood turn to ice. “Hold her.”

“No!” I thrash against the hands restraining me, but there are too many of them. Two men pin my arms while a third holds my head still. “Don’t! I’m pr?—”

The needle pierces my neck with a sharp sting before I can finish saying I’m pregnant. Almost immediately, my limbs begin to feel heavy and unresponsive. I try to keep fighting, but my muscles won’t obey my commands.

“Adrian wants her alive and unharmed,” someone says, and the name cuts through my growing haze like a blade.

Adrian. Leo’s enemy. The man to whom Father supposedly owes fifteen million dollars.

Leo’s warnings crash through my mind as the sedative takes hold. The bank records, the phone transcripts, and the intercepted communications all now seem likely to be true. What if Father really has been feeding information to this man, and I just became the ultimate leverage in their deal?

My vision blurs as we speed through Manhattan traffic. I try to memorize the route, to count turns and note landmarks, but the drug makes it impossible to focus. The buildings outside the window blur into streaks of concrete and glass.

“How far?” asks the driver.

“Twenty minutes to the safe house,” someone says.

Safe house. They’re taking me somewhere isolated, where Leo might never find me. The thought should terrify me, but the sedative is making everything feel distant and unreal.

My head lolls back against the seat as consciousness slips away.

Through the fog, I hear my phone ringing in the floorboard, where it must have fallen from my purse.

I manage to lift my head enough to see Leo’s name on the caller ID just before one of the goons beside me crushes it with a polished Italian shoe.

My last coherent thought is of Leo’s face when I accused him of lying, wincing at the hurt in his eyes when I stormed out.

I was so determined to prove my independence that I walked straight into the trap he’d been trying to protect me from.

Now, it might be too late to tell him I’m sorry and too late to admit he was right about everything.

Everything goes black.