Page 62 of I'm sorry, Princess

I step out of my penthouse, and my breath catches when I see Sienna.

Oh. My. God.

She looks absolutely stunning, the kind of stunning that turns heads and stops conversations. Her long caramel hair is tied back in a sleek ponytail that highlights her sharp cheekbones and flawless skin. Her dress, though a little longer than mine, clings to her curves in a way that feels almost criminal. And her titties, honestly, the way they’re displayed should be illegal.

The dress is jet black, sleek and sultry, paired perfectly with towering black high heels that give her an edge of dominance. Her bold red lipstick pops against her warm complexion, while her smokey eye makeup adds a layer of mystery that’s almost dangerous.

We look at each other and immediately burst out laughing, realizing just how perfect the contrast is.

The devil and the angel.

That’s us tonight, no question about it. Sienna, with her seductive black dress and bold, fiery makeup, is every inch the devil, confident, unapologetic, and ready to cause chaos. And me? With my soft curls, white dress, and pinkribbon, I’m the angel, the delicate balance to her sinful energy.

We don’t say it out loud, but the way we exchange grins says it all.

“Oh, my God!” Sienna exclaims, her voice loud enough to turn heads if we weren’t alone. “Are you throwing a tantrum or something? You look HOT.”

Before I can respond, she pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.

“I missed you,” I manage to say, my voice tinged with sadness that even I can’t hide.

This night is supposed to be fun. I’m supposed to be happy, carefree, ready to let loose. But the weight of the last month hangs over me like a storm cloud. I should be relieved. Relieved that I won’t see him anymore.

But then a voice in my head snaps back, sharp and unforgiving: What do you mean you won’t see him anymore? He’s not freaking dead, Serena.

I wince, trying to push the thought away. No, what I meant is I won’t have to deal with him anymore. Right? That’s what I meant.

Freaking hell.

Lost in my spiraling thoughts, I barely notice the silence stretching out between us as we head to the club. Sienna’s soft voice pulls me back.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asks gently, her eyes flicking toward me with a mix of concern and curiosity. “You know you can talk to me.”

The faint hum of “Eyes on You” by Vanna Rainelle plays in the background, wrapping us in a moment that feels almost too fragile.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what I’m feeling. The truth is a tangled mess, one I’m not sure I’m ready to unravel. But we’re ten minutes away from the club,and if I’m going to tell her, if I’m going to say it, now is the time.

I glance at her, hesitating, the words caught somewhere between my chest and my throat.

“I slept with Lorenzo,” I say flatly, my face carefully blank, trying not to betray the whirlwind inside me.

Sienna freezes for a moment, her lips parting slightly as she processes my words. Then, in true Sienna fashion, she breaks into a sly grin.

“Uh, um. Well, I don’t know what to say. Is his dick as big as his ego?” she asks, laughing.

I can’t help but smile, even as a blush creeps across my cheeks. God, I love her. Sienna always knows how to make me feel like the world isn’t falling apart.

“Bigger,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

And there it is. We’re talking about Lorenzo’s dick when I’m supposed to be forgetting about him. Nice. Great work, Serena.

Sienna tilts her head slightly, her laughter fading as she looks at me more seriously. “Listen, Serena. Are you okay? I mean, I’m guessing you told me this now, five minutes away from the club, because you didn’t want to go too deep into it, but we’ll talk about this later. I just need to know: are you okay? He didn’t do anything nasty, didn’t he?”

“No,” I reply quickly, shaking my head. “He didn’t. I wanted it. I lied to him, and then he… well, insert himself.”

Sienna raises an eyebrow but says nothing, waiting for me to explain.

“I lied on purpose,” I continue, my words tumbling out faster now. “I didn’t want to tell him that I wanted him. I—” I pause, biting my lip. “I wanted to hate him, so I wanted him to do it anyway. But he didn’t. He gave me a choice.”