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The drive back to her condo stretched on, feeling endlessly longer than it should have. Sienna sat rigid in the backseat, her arms crossed tightly, her gaze fixed on the blur of city lights rushing past the window. Frustration churned beneath her calm exterior, simmering with every passing mile. She hadn't so much as glanced at Bucky since they left the Malibu mansion, but she was acutely aware of him—sitting beside her like a shadow, unmoved and calm, while she fought to keep her anger in check.
The weight of the situation pressed down on her chest. A bodyguard. Her bodyguard. The idea of needing someone to protect her felt like an insult, a direct challenge to her independence. She had always handled herself, navigated through the chaos of her life with sharp wit and determination. And yet, here she was, shackled to Bucky Barnes, Tony's latest decision forced upon her without so much as an honest conversation.
The tension from the mansion hadn't left her, and now it wrapped itself around her thoughts like a vice. The confrontation with Tony replayed over and over in her mind, stoking the flames of her irritation. Bucky's presence beside her only made it worse. His silence, his calm, his damn professionalism—it grated against her nerves, a reminder that no matter how much she resisted, he was here to stay.
The car finally rolled to a stop outside her condo, the familiar glass length walls of the building reflecting the scattered lights of Los Angeles. Sienna waited this time for the car to fully halt before she reached for the door. Yet she still shoved it open with a sharp motion. The cool night air hit her face as she stepped out, but it did little to soothe the heat still burning in her chest.
As she neared the front door of her condo, the soft click of Bucky's footsteps echoed behind her, measured and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. Sienna didn't need to turn around to feel his presence looming—steady, unrelenting, a constant reminder of Tony's decision hovering over her. By the time she reached the door and fumbled with her keys, the irritation she had been holding in all night finally snapped free.
"You know," she said, her tone sharp and biting, "if you want to come inside, you could at least pretend to ask. Since it looks like you're planning on it anyway." She threw a glance over her shoulder, her voice dripping with sarcasm as her gaze locked onto his.
Bucky stood there, cool and unruffled, arms crossed casually over his chest as if her frustration didn't faze him in the slightest. For a moment, he said nothing, simply studying her with those piercing, calculating eyes that always seemed to read the room—and her—long before anyone else did. His face remained unreadable, his expression a mask of indifference that only served to irritate her more.
Then, with that maddening calm, he finally spoke. "It's clear you don't know how this works."
Sienna's eyes narrowed, the flash of indignation sparking in her chest. "Excuse me?" Her voice came out sharp, cutting through the space between them.
