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The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline like a living portrait, the glass and steel structures shimmering under the warm hues of the late afternoon sun. It cast a golden glow over the minimalist elegance of Sienna's living space, where white marble floors stretched beneath her bare feet, cool and smooth with every step she took. Contemporary art adorned the walls in muted tones, each piece thoughtfully placed to complement the understated luxury around her. Despite the calm, an electric tension simmered in the air.
Sienna paced the length of the room, her designer jacket now draped over a chair, revealing a sleek blouse that clung to her frame and a form-fitting pencil skirt that accentuated her every movement. Her fingers absently flicked through data on the holographic display that floated in front of her, its soft blue light reflecting off her polished nails. The disembodied voices of Stark Industries executives filled the room, projected from hidden speakers woven into the high-tech fabric of the apartment.
"Next on the list is Riri Williams," Executive Johnson's voice crackled through the air, his image flickering as if the technology could barely contain his excitement. "Nineteen years old, robotics prodigy, MIT graduate at fifteen."
Sienna nodded, her eyes glancing briefly at the tablet in her hand before returning to the display. "Riri is non-negotiable. Her work in AI is revolutionary, and we need her vision on our team. Make sure we provide her with every resource she needs to excel."
"Agreed," another voice chimed in, though Sienna barely registered who spoke. "What about Harley Keener? He's twenty, focused on sustainable energy innovations."
Before she could respond, her attention snagged on movement from the hallway. A ripple of awareness swept through her as Bucky Barnes stepped into view, his sheer presence impossible to overlook. He emerged, fresh from a workout, with only a pair of athletic shorts hanging low on his hips and a towel slung casually over his broad, muscular shoulders. Beads of water still clung to his sculpted torso, tracing slow, tantalizing paths down the defined lines of his chest and abs. His damp hair was tousled, now after a month or so, just long enough to fall over his brow to make him look both rugged and effortlessly irresistible.
It had been two weeks since the chaotic evening in Milan, two weeks since the waiter with the tattoo had slipped through their fingers, leaving more questions than answers in his wake. The days that followed had been a whirlwind of heightened security measures, tension-filled conversations, and the constant, unspoken knowledge that something bigger was looming on the horizon. Sienna had tried to settle back into her routine in Los Angeles, but with Bucky now a permanent fixture in her life, there was a new rhythm to her day-to-day existence—one that hummed with a quiet intensity. His presence, both as her protector and something else entirely, had grown impossible to ignore. And while she hadn't admitted it to anyone, the lines between professional and personal had begun to blur in ways that left her restless, unsure of where things stood between them.
