Sienna’s first week at Blackwood Group of companies was like bootcamp—minus the shouting, plus high heels. She was assigned to the executive floor, mostly managing paperwork and scheduling. She hadn’t seen Dante Blackwood since their awkward collision on her first day, and she told herself that was for the best.

But on Friday, everything changed.

“Sienna Brooks?” came a clipped voice over her desk phone. “Mr. Blackwood needs you in his office. Now.”

Her stomach dropped. “Y-yes. Right away.”

She grabbed her tablet and hurried to the top floor. His office was massive—floor-to-ceiling windows, minimalist black furniture, and a desk that looked like it cost more than her mother’s house.

He didn’t look up as she entered.

“You’re filling in for my PA until she returns. Sit.”

She obeyed, clutching her tablet like a shield.

“You’ll accompany me to Italy in three weeks for a major business meeting. Your job is simple: carry files, handle scheduling, and don’t screw up.”

Italy?

Before she could respond, he looked up—his grey eyes locked on hers.

“Any questions?”

“No, sir,” she managed.

He studied her for a moment. “Good.”

As she left the office, her knees felt like jelly. Italy. With him. It was exciting. Terrifying. Unreal.

Three weeks later…

The jet was smoother than she expected. Sienna stared out the window like a kid seeing clouds for the first time—because she was seeing clouds for the first time. Her first time flying.

Dante sat across from her, flipping through documents. Every now and then, he looked at her like she was some strange little puzzle piece that didn’t fit.

Mid-flight, turbulence hit.

Her head swayed and her stomach lurched. “I-I don’t feel so good…”

He looked up. “Motion sickness?”

She nodded weakly, gripping the seat. The next bump rocked the plane—and before she knew it, her head had slumped onto his shoulder.

Dante froze.

She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

He glanced down at her face—soft, peaceful, lips parted slightly. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he quickly erased it.

When they landed in Italy, she jolted awake, horrified. “Oh God. I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine,” he said coolly, but avoided her eyes.

Their hotel was extravagant, of course. Dante had the presidential suite. Sienna had a spacious room next door.

Each morning, she brought him coffee, organized his briefings, even laid out his ties. It was exhausting, but she didn’t mind. Especially when he didn’t bark orders at her. He just…watched.

Studied her.

By the third day in Italy, the stress was beginning to show. Sienna was overworked, under-rested, and had made a habit of triple-checking everything to avoid making a mistake.

Dante noticed.

She brought him a fresh cup of espresso that morning, hands trembling slightly.

“You look like hell,” he said flatly.

Sienna flinched. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean—”

“Relax.” He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. “You’ve been working nonstop. Come with me.”

She blinked. “Where are we going?”

“Lunch. You need it. I won’t have my assistant collapsing before the big meeting .”

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at a quiet rooftop restaurant overlooking a quaint Italian piazza. The sun was warm, the view was beautiful, and for the first time, Sienna felt like she could breathe.

He ordered for both of them, speaking fluent Italian. She watched him with quiet admiration—so confident, so in control.

“Why are you staring?” he asked, sipping his wine.

“I wasn’t—” she blushed. “I just didn’t know you could speak Italian.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

She looked down at her food. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too.”

A rare smile touched his lips. “Fair enough.”

They ate in silence after that, but it wasn’t awkward. It was… calm.

For once, Dante wasn’t bossy or cold. He was just a man enjoying lunch with a woman who intrigued him more than he liked to admit.

And when they left the restaurant, he opened the car door for her.

Sienna was too stunned to comment—but inside, something shifted.

Maybe… just maybe… he wasn’t all stone.