Page 40 of Shield

Eleanor doesn’t back down. “Those can wait, I’m sure. And if not, I can have someone handle them for you. I must insist.” She rests a hand on Siena’s forearm, giving her a meaningful look, the same one she uses on me when she wants something.

Good luck, Siena.

Valentina is practically shaking with jealousy and rage. She sweeps a sharp gaze over Siena, looking her up and down. “What the fuck does he want with this bitch? She’s got a fucking stain on her sweater, for Christ’s sake. She’s a walking disaster.”

Siena tilts her head at Valentina and lifts her chin. “And yet he wants me even though he just spent the night with you. What does that tell you about yourself?”

Oh shit! I laugh as Valentina’s face burns almost as red as her lipstick. She turns on her heel and stalks to a nearby couch and throws herself down on it dramatically.

Eleanor smothers a laugh, and Siena gives her a conspiratorial wink. That’s my girl.

I’m enjoying the moment so much, only distracted by why Valentina isn’t leaving, that it doesn’t register that Eleanor iswalking Siena over to my private elevator.

The one that shoots straight to the front door of my penthouse in about twenty seconds.

Until I hear the elevator ding.

Fuck! I look around, trying to see what Siena will see when she walks into my penthouse for the first time.

The late night dinner that Eleanor sent up is pushed over to the side where it was largely forgotten after Vin picked through and took what he wanted.

The laptop open to the video of the man wearing the watch that Siena found in Emily’s things.

Valentina’s red bra and panties thrown over the plant.

Me in a towel, still wet from the shower.

This is not good.

Eleanor’s knock echoes through the room as I break into action. There’s only so much I can do in five seconds, but I slam the laptop shut, then grab Valentina’s underwear and turn around in a circle, trying to decide where to stuff it.

Eleanor knocks again, and I shove the lacy pieces into the little garbage can next to the desk on the other side of the table. I make a move to manage the dishes, but stop when Eleanor knocks a third time, calling out my name.

I take the few quick steps to the door, then stop and shake out my arms to steady myself, taking a deep breath and blowing it out before I open the door.

19

Siena

When Matti opens the door, he’s wearing nothing but a towel, low enough on his hips that the deep V etched into his lower abdomen is visible. I flush and redden, unable to stop myself from remembering what’s underneath the towel. Hoping it helps, I roll my eyes, pretending that I’m as unfazed as Eleanor seems to be.

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but Ms. Siena needs some assistance.”

I turn on her sharply. “Do not!” I snap, my voice sharp and defensive. Realizing how childish I sound, I rein it in. “I don’t.” I say again, calmer this time, but I’m unable to meet Matti’s piercing eyes and my gaze drops further south than it should.

Matti follows my eye line down to his towel, then looks back up at me through his eyelashes and smirks. “You need assistance?”

Fuck him. No, not fuck him.Un-fuck him. Jesus Christ, I hope my face isn’t broadcasting the absolute wreckage that is my brain right now.

Gritting my teeth, I consider turning back toward the elevator, but Eleanor shifts ever so slightly, blocking my exit. She’s watching me with a kind, expectant expression, and for some inexplicable reason, I don’t want to disappoint her by stomping off like a petulant teenager.

“I have an IT project I thought Valentina might be able to help with,” I say, keeping my voice cool. “She wasn’t exactly receptive to the idea. Probably tired after a long night.” I snipe sarcastically, and hefucking smirks at me again! FUCK him. “I’m sure you’re tired, too. And you obviously need to clean up, so I’ll just take my project elsewhere. Eleanor, this elevator takes me back to the ground floor?”

I move to step around her, but she smiles and subtly shifts again, cutting off my path. Matti swings the door open wider, sweeping his arm out, inviting me in with a mockingly grand gesture.

“Please,” he says smoothly. “I’m already clean. It’s no bother.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. A man pushing a serving cart steps out, a lavish breakfast for two spread across gleaming silver trays. He stops short when he sees us, confused.

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