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She looked...wild. Wanton. Her mother would definitely not approve. The thought brought a smile to her lips, a genuine one, because it was her secret, and yet the fact her mother wouldn’t have approved—and wouldn’t have believed it—was a definite silver lining. It was Sienna’s life, her prerogative, and she loved knowing that she was doing something no one would have thought her capable of.
The doors pinged open, not into a corridor as she’d expected, but into a grandiose entrance foyer that gave way to a room positively bursting with light. The south-facing windows bathed the room in afternoon gold, the floor-to-ceiling glass showcasing a stunning outlook—of a large shrub-lined terrace and, beyond it, the varied roofs of the boulevard. Despite the fact her arrival was unexpected, the place was immaculate. In fact, it looked barely lived in. She grimaced at her rustic backpack once more, placing it by the door and trying not to register how out of place it was, before placing her sandals beside it and padding, barefoot, into the lounge room.
It expanded around her: huge, white, overwhelming, beautiful. Everything was the palest of wood or cream, except for a grand piano towards the left, which was dark and highly polished. She moved towards it and pressed a series of keys, wondering if Alejandro played or if it was purely decorative.
Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him doing something so ordinary as playing the piano, and yet just imagining him sitting here, shirtless, bathed in the light of the moon, made her heart skip a beat.
There was nothing to do but explore, and so Sienna wandered from room to room, each decorated like a six-star hotel, with barely a hint of personal effects, so it took guesswork to establish which of the three bedrooms was actually Alejandro’s—eventually she picked it because the bed was largest and there was, on closer inspection, a newspaper on the bedside table.
A small hint, but enough. She didn’t linger in the room. It felt too invasive, despite what she’d come here for.
There were other rooms, which she supposed might have been bedrooms at one point, but which had been converted into other purposes, more suited to Alejandro. There was a state-of-the-art office, with screens mounted on the wall, a large, dark desk, and a leather armchair. It provided a view of the terrace, including the infinity pool in the corner. She stared at it with a deep yearning—how long had it been since she’d gone swimming? As girls, they’d always swum in the lake at Hughenwood House, but without the gardening staff, it had quickly become overgrown with lily pads and slimy algae, not safe to use any longer, and so the pursuit had been abandoned. The turquoise water of this pool looked irresistible.
She stepped out of his office, passing another room—a gymnasium with a boxing ring in the centre—and moved back into the lounge area, wishing she’d brought bathers with her. But why would she have?
She cast a glance about the penthouse somewhat guiltily and then, with another bright, defiant smile tilting her lips, Sienna disappeared onto the terrace, shedding clothes as she got closer and closer to the infinity pool.
