Page 13 of Bride on the Dotted Line (Blackstone Center #1)
Nick
For the first few days, nothing really changes.
When I’m at the gym late, Sienna works later. The fridge gets a little fuller, the living room smells faintly of her vanilla shampoo. We orbit each other, two planets existing in the same square footage but never quite colliding.
I’m starting to worry this isn’t how it’s supposed to feel.
It’s not that I wasn’t prepared for our arrangement. I knew she’d be here, in my space, and that she’d occupy my mind in one way or another. But that kiss at the wedding. I never expected her to do something like that . Even if it was just for the cameras, it set off a supernova in my head.
Suddenly, thinking about her is exhilarating. Forbidden.
And I’m doing it all the time.
Sienna is my business partner. I’m not supposed to know the taste of her lips, the warmth of her mouth. I’m not supposed to study her when her back is turned, each curve and hill of her body like a rare artwork.
It's worse during the day, when I’m sitting at the office learning how to run Harwood Restaurant Group.
The closer I get to CEO, the more the hope that I’d start my own restaurant one day shrinks.
The onslaught of politics, margins, expansions, and acquisitions ices that dream, freezes it in stasis.
Maybe it’s natural that I spend every moment thinking about Sienna, imagining seeing her when I get home, cooking for her, talking to her. Warming myself again.
I could have sworn I was a whole man when I asked her to marry me.
Now, I’m split down the middle: half the Harwood CEO that nods politely at her when she comes home from work, and half the man who glues himself to his phone, texting her back too fast. The man who is swiftly realizing that every moment spent at home with her feels more real than anything at the office.
I should know better.
But I don’t act like it.
Nick, 9:32 AM
Our wedding photos are trending already.
Sienna
That was fast. Lena only had them leaked last night.
What are the comments like?
Positive so far. You haven’t seen the posts?
I’m not like you, Mr. Harwood. I don’t go on social media at work.
What’s it like having a functioning dopaminergic system?
lol.
Okay, just looked it up and the first comment I saw was “She’s too good for him.”
Not funny, Ms. Hayes.
It’s a little funny.
How about “Her dress is stunning, but let’s be real, we’re all here for the groom”?
Sounds like your alt’s been busy.
I don’t need fake compliments. I get enough real ones.
Keep telling yourself that.
This is good, Nick. It means our strategy’s working.
Should I pick up a celebratory bottle on the way home from the gym?
I’ll be working late at the office tonight.
But this is a win. The magic of PR.
I’ll believe it when I see more nice comments.
Sienna, 11:06 PM
Who designed your building? I’ve been waiting for your fancy elevator for two minutes.
Nick
Two minutes is a totally normal amount of time to wait for an elevator.
Not when you’re in heels.
Better break out your emergency flats, then.
You think I have another pair of shoes with me right now?
What else could you have in your bag? That thing’s gigantic.
Work stuff, Nick. You could say I’m taking on a massive project right now.
… Say it.
Your ego.
Knew it was coming, but it still stung.
I’ve got an early morning with my dad tomorrow. Learning the ropes of the company and everything. Text if you need anything, okay?
Sweet dreams.
You, too.
Nick, 7:30 PM
Sienna. Is that a convenience store burrito on the kitchen counter?
Sienna
Technically, it’s the wrapper of a convenience store burrito.
It says “Beens n’ Cheez” on it.
I’m calling 911.
We can’t all be Michelin-starred chefs in our spare time, Mr. Harwood.
It’s not just the burrito. I found your Slim Jims yesterday. And those rice cracker things the day before.
Now you just sound like an elitist.
Do you ever eat a vegetable?!
There were onions in the burrito.
The ingredient list says “onion product.”
Exactly.
There’s leftover tagliatelle in the fridge. Take it for lunch tomorrow, I beg of you. It’s the pasta in truffle cream. My mom’s recipe has arugula in it, but I made broccolini instead.
My mom would have loved your mom.
I’ll take it for lunch. If you promise to eat a Slim Jim.
Nick, 1:32 PM
Fine. The Slim Jim was pretty good.
Sienna
Told you.
The pasta tasted like home, just so you know.
Sienna, 9:06 AM
Did you get my email about the gala next week?
Nick
Yeah. Everything looks good.
I went over the final seating chart with Lena and Mason. No surprises, but the press table is right next to your father’s.
Of course it is.
You ready for them?
I think so. Hopefully they won’t call me a dumbass again.
Please, Nick. They have journalistic integrity. They called you a “dumba**”.
Of course. My mistake.
Don’t worry. They’re more interested in the image than the details. It’s the shareholders we should focus on. Just bring the same energy from the wedding to our conversation with them.
You make it sound so easy.
It’s not. But it’s manageable.
And after it’s done, you get to go to Fiji and forget all your troubles for a week.
Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.
It’s my job, Mr. Harwood. All you have to do is trust me.
I do.
I tell myself it’s just the novelty of the situation—having Sienna here, in my place, her presence lingering in the hallways, her bedsheets rustling in the guest room.
But it’s a lie. And that’s the problem.
If I let myself think about her—if I let myself get used to that warm feeling, that excitement, that new kind of hunger—then what happens to the cold, analytical version of me who is supposed to take over Harwood Restaurant Group?
After a week of living with Sienna, there’s only two things I know for certain.
I don’t know shit about faking love, and I shouldn’t have kissed her.