Drake knew. The man she had hired to handle her security was part of the charade. Oh God, this was getting worse by the moment. Her breath caught in her chest, her lungs fighting for air. There was no controlling the tears tracking down her cheeks. Elijah didn’t care about her. He was no different than Paolo, wanting whatever it was her grandfather had. He’d played her. Played her, and she’d been so desperate for him she’d believed every single thing he’d said to her.

Her face burned with humiliation. Her heart felt shattered. So many pieces there was no recovery. She’d lost everything. Her legs trembled and she was terrified they wouldn’t hold her up. She pressed one hand to the wall and kept the other firmly over her mouth to keep the sounds of her shuddering breath from escaping.

“Easy for you to say, Donovan, you aren’t the one making the sacrifices.”

Sacrifices. That was the worst. The absolute worst. Elijah was making sacrifices by having her in his house. In his bed. He’d told her. Straight up he’d told her how awful she was. The worst. She didn’t even know how to suck cock.

Siena flinched, and this time, behind her hand, muffled, a small sound of absolute pain managed to break free. Elijah’s betrayal ran deep. So deep she was afraid she might vomit right there in the hallway. She became aware of the sudden silence. Both men had heard the sound and they knew.

The door flew open and Elijah strode out, his face a mask, eyes so silver they gleamed in the darkened hall. Sheer predator.

“Siena,” he said, his voice rough. Raw. He took a step toward her.

Siena stepped back, holding up one hand. The shame was so acute, she could barely stand it. “You lied, Elijah. God. How could I be so stupid, believing every word you said to me. Telling me you’d always tell me the truth. So, so stupid.”

His face darkened. The silver eyes slashed her face, cutting deep. Deeper than Paolo’s leopard had ever cut her. So deep she felt that cut in her soul.

“That’s enough, Siena,” he cautioned, his tone a whip.