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Morning light filtered gently through the sheer curtains of Sienna's bedroom, casting a soft, golden glow that painted the room in muted warmth. The minimalist space around her felt almost too still, as if holding its breath in the quiet aftermath of last night's tensions. She blinked awake, her mind immediately replaying the confrontation with Bucky—his sharp, cutting words still echoing in her ears, the way his gaze had pierced through her defenses, filled with both challenge and that maddening hint of amusement. It was as if he knew exactly how to get under her skin and was determined to stay there.
A knot of frustration twisted in her chest, but she shoved it aside, willing herself to focus on today. Today would be different. Today, she would reclaim control.
Careful not to disturb the silence, Sienna slipped out of bed, each movement deliberate and measured. Her bare feet padded soundlessly across the cool hardwood floor as she made her way to the wardrobe. Every motion was careful, calculated—this was a morning where precision mattered. She reached for the sharp black trousers that fit her like a second skin, pulling them on with a sense of purpose. Her crisp white blouse, pressed to perfection, was next, the tailored fabric giving her an air of composed authority.
The large mirror reflected back a woman who looked every bit in control—sleek, polished, untouchable. Her hair, drawn back into a smooth ponytail, accentuated the sharp lines of her face, while her minimal makeup only served to highlight her natural beauty. Her eyes, however, betrayed the whirlwind beneath—stormy and unresolved, still haunted by the events of last night.
Peeking into the hallway, Sienna's gaze landed on the closed door to the guest suite. She strained her ears, waiting for any sign of movement—any creak of the floorboards or soft shuffle that might signal Bucky was awake. But there was nothing. The stillness in the air gave her a faint glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could pull this off. If luck was on her side, he was still asleep—or at least distracted enough for her to make a clean escape.
With that thought propelling her, she gathered her essentials swiftly. The smooth leather of her tote slid effortlessly onto her shoulder, the tablet and documents inside adding a comfortable weight to the bag. She grabbed her keys, the cold metal resting lightly in her hand, a quiet accomplice to her plan. Breakfast could wait. She didn't want to risk lingering any longer than necessary.
Her heels clicked softly against the polished hardwood as she moved toward the front door, the sound unnervingly loud in the otherwise silent condo. Each step was measured, cautious, her heart picking up a rhythm that matched the pace of her getaway. Every small sound—the rustle of her clothing, the distant murmur of the city outside—felt magnified in the tension of the moment.
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, a half-formed expectation lingering in her mind that Bucky would materialize out of nowhere, catching her mid-act like he had a sixth sense for these things. But the hallway remained empty, the condo still cloaked in its early-morning quiet.
