Updated Oct 25, 2025 • ~12 min read
The universe, Sienna decided, had a sick sense of humor.
Three days after staring at those pink lines, three days of barely eating and definitely not sleeping, three days of avoiding every mirror because she couldn’t stand to see the panic in her own eyes—Lucas Cross asked her to coffee.
The message came through LinkedIn of all places, professional and friendly: Sienna, I know we’ve only met briefly, but I’d love to discuss a potential collaboration. Coffee this week? —Lucas
She stared at her laptop screen, her heart doing complicated acrobatics in her chest.
Lucas. The good twin. The one who wasn’t Damon, which was currently his most appealing quality.
Bianca appeared behind her desk, reading over her shoulder. “Please tell me you’re not actually considering this.”
“It’s just coffee.” But Sienna’s mind was already racing ahead, sketching scenarios, calculating possibilities. “He said collaboration. Probably wants to poach me now that Damon won Hartwell.”
“Or it’s a setup.”
“Lucas isn’t like that.” Though honestly, what did she know about Lucas Cross beyond his warm smile and the fact that he shared DNA with the man currently haunting her nightmares? “Besides, I need to start networking. Losing Hartwell means I need to rebuild momentum fast.”
“Uh-huh. And this has nothing to do with your insane plan to—”
“There is no plan,” Sienna cut her off, glancing around to make sure no one else in the office could hear. “There’s just coffee with a potential business contact.”
Bianca’s look said she wasn’t buying it, but she backed off. “Fine. But I’m texting you every fifteen minutes to make sure you’re still alive and not doing something catastrophically stupid.”
“Deal.”
They met at a boutique coffee shop in Midtown, the kind of place with exposed brick and plants hanging from the ceiling, where everyone looked like they were either writing a screenplay or disrupting an industry.
Lucas was already there when she arrived, sitting at a corner table with two cups in front of him. He stood when he saw her, and the resemblance to Damon hit her like a freight train—same height, same build, same devastating bone structure.
But when he smiled, it was all Lucas. Warm. Genuine. No hidden agendas lurking behind his eyes.
“Sienna, thanks for meeting me.” He gestured to one of the cups. “I took a guess—vanilla latte, right? I remember you ordered one at the Preston fundraiser last year.”
She was surprised he remembered. Surprised and inexplicably touched. “That’s… yes. Thank you.”
They sat, and for a moment, she just studied him, trying to catalog the differences. Lucas’s hair was slightly longer, his style more relaxed—today he wore a navy sweater that looked expensive but not ostentatious. He had the same intense eyes as Damon, but where Damon’s were calculating, assessing, always three moves ahead, Lucas’s held genuine interest.
Like he actually wanted to know what she thought, not just how to beat her.
“So,” he said, wrapping his hands around his own cup. “I’m going to be honest—this isn’t entirely about business.”
Her stomach dropped. “Oh?”
“I wanted to apologize.” He leaned forward, expression earnest. “For my brother. I heard about the Hartwell contract, and I know how hard you worked on that pitch. Damon can be… ruthless. It’s his biggest strength and his worst flaw.”
“You don’t need to apologize for him.”
“Maybe not. But someone should, and he certainly won’t.” Lucas’s smile turned rueful. “We’re twins, but we couldn’t be more different. He sees every interaction as a competition. I prefer collaboration.”
“Is that what you’re offering? Collaboration?”
“Actually, I’m offering you a job.”
Sienna blinked. “What?”
“Cross Ventures is expanding into sustainable development. It’s a new division, completely separate from Damon’s side of the business. I need someone brilliant, strategic, and not afraid to challenge the status quo.” He met her eyes. “I need you.”
It was a good offer. No—it was a great offer. The kind of opportunity that could redefine her career, give her the autonomy she’d been fighting for, set her up for the future.
A future that now included a baby.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll think about it.” Lucas pulled out a folder, slid it across the table. “Compensation package, benefits, the whole pitch. No pressure, but Sienna—you’re wasted competing with Damon. You could be building something that actually matters.”
She opened the folder, and the numbers made her breath catch. This wasn’t just a lateral move; it was a leap. The salary alone would solve the financial panic that had been keeping her up at night since those pink lines appeared.
And working for Lucas meant proximity. Meant building a relationship that, if she was very careful, very strategic, could become something more.
It has to be Lucas’s.
The thought whispered through her mind, seductive and dangerous.
“Can I ask you something personal?” The words were out before she could stop them.
Lucas tilted his head, curious but not wary. “Of course.”
“Why aren’t you married? Someone like you—” She gestured vaguely, and to her horror, felt her cheeks heat. “I just mean, you’re successful, charming. I’m surprised some smart woman hasn’t locked you down.”
His laugh was self-deprecating. “My mother asks me the same thing. Honestly? I’ve been focused on building the business. And I haven’t met someone who—” He paused, something shifting in his expression. “Someone who makes me want to reprioritize.”
The air between them changed, charged with possibility.
Sienna’s heart hammered. This was insane. She barely knew him. But he was looking at her like she was fascinating rather than competition, and after three years of Damon’s intensity, Lucas’s gentleness felt like coming up for air.
“I should think about the offer,” she said, though her mind was already made up.
“Absolutely. Take all the time you need.” He stood when she did, and walked her to the door. “Sienna? I really hope you say yes. I think we could do great things together.”
The way he said it—together—made something flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with morning sickness.
Over the next two weeks, Lucas Cross became a constant in her life.
It started professionally: follow-up emails about the position, lunch meetings to discuss the division’s vision, introductions to his team. But somewhere between the business talk and the strategic planning, something shifted.
He was easy to be around. Made her laugh. Listened when she talked instead of waiting for his turn to speak. Remembered details—that she was allergic to shellfish, that she took her coffee with vanilla, that she’d mentioned loving old bookstores.
When he showed up at her office with a first edition of her favorite novel, she felt her carefully constructed walls start to crumble.
“Lucas, this is too much—”
“It’s a welcome gift. For saying yes.” His smile was boyish, hopeful. “You did say yes, right?”
She had. Of course she had. The offer was too good, and more than that—Lucas was too good. Too kind, too genuine, too everything she needed right now.
“I said yes,” she confirmed, and watched his whole face light up.
They celebrated with dinner at a restaurant Sienna couldn’t quite afford on her current salary but would be able to soon. Lucas ordered wine, then caught himself when she declined.
“Are you feeling okay?” Concern crossed his face. “You look pale.”
“Just tired. It’s been a stressful few weeks.” The lie came easily now. She’d been practicing.
“Well, no more stress. You’re going to love the team, and I promise I’m a much better boss than my brother.”
At the mention of Damon, something must have flickered in her expression, because Lucas’s hand covered hers on the table.
“He doesn’t know I hired you yet,” Lucas said quietly. “And when he finds out, he’s going to lose his mind. But Sienna, you can’t let him intimidate you. You’re brilliant, and you deserve to be somewhere that recognizes that.”
His hand was warm, steady. Nothing like the electric shock of Damon’s touch, but that was good. Safe was good.
Safe was what she needed.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For seeing me as more than just Damon’s rival.”
“I see you as Sienna. Remarkable, talented, beautiful Sienna.”
Her breath caught. “Lucas—”
“Too much?” He pulled his hand back, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I have a habit of being too direct. My mother says I need to learn subtlety.”
“No, it’s—” She smiled, and it felt real for the first time in weeks. “It’s nice. Refreshing, actually.”
The rest of dinner passed in easy conversation, and when Lucas walked her to her car, the autumn air crisp and the city lights bright, Sienna felt something dangerous bloom in her chest.
Hope.
Maybe this could work. Maybe Lucas was the answer she’d been looking for. Not because he looked like Damon—though that detail would certainly help sell the story later—but because he was genuinely, authentically good.
“I’m really glad you said yes to this,” Lucas said, standing close enough that she could smell his cologne. Different from Damon’s. Lighter, less aggressive. “To the job, I mean. And to dinner.”
“Me too.”
“Would you like to do this again? Dinner, I mean. Not as colleagues. As—” He took a breath. “As more?”
This was it. The moment she could step into the lie that would save her.
Or she could tell him the truth: that she was pregnant with his brother’s baby, that she was terrified, that she had no idea what she was doing.
She looked at Lucas’s hopeful face, thought about the baby growing inside her, about Damon’s smirk and his victory and the way he’d stolen her contract and would probably steal any chance at happiness if she gave him the ammunition.
“I’d like that,” she heard herself say. “I’d like that very much.”
His smile could have powered the city. “Good. Great. I’ll text you?”
“Please.”
He kissed her cheek—gentle, respectful, nothing like the incendiary way Damon had kissed her in his penthouse—and Sienna felt the final pieces of her plan click into place.
She would make this work. Would build something real with Lucas, something that could become a foundation for the family she hadn’t planned but was starting to want despite everything.
She would forget about Damon Cross and that one catastrophic night.
She had to.
The pregnancy confirmation from her doctor came the next day: eight weeks along, everything progressing normally.
Eight weeks meant the timeline aligned perfectly with that gala night. But it also meant she was running out of time to establish her relationship with Lucas before she started showing.
She texted him: Coffee tomorrow?
His response was immediate: I’ll bring breakfast.
That weekend, he took her to the farmer’s market. The weekend after, a art gallery opening. By the end of the month, they were inseparable—dinners, movies, long walks through the park where Lucas held her hand and told her stories about growing up as Damon’s twin, about always feeling like the softer version, the lesser reflection.
“You’re not lesser,” Sienna insisted, squeezing his fingers. “You’re kinder. That’s not weakness.”
“Damon would disagree.”
“Damon isn’t always right.”
Lucas stopped walking, turned to face her on the path lined with autumn leaves. “Sienna, I know we haven’t been doing this long, but I need you to know—I’m falling for you. Fast and probably foolishly, but I can’t help it.”
Her heart stuttered. “Lucas—”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know where I stand. Whatever this is between us, it’s real for me.”
Real. The word carved through her guilt like a knife.
This wasn’t real. It was a construction, a solution to an impossible problem. But looking at Lucas’s earnest face, feeling the gentle way he touched her like she was something precious, Sienna wanted it to be real.
Wanted to deserve the sweetness he offered.
“It’s real for me too,” she said, and meant it more than she’d expected.
When he kissed her—truly kissed her, not just a chaste brush of lips—it was tender and careful. So different from Damon’s consuming fire. This was sustainable, manageable.
This was a future she could actually build.
That night, wrapped in Lucas’s arms in his apartment that was tasteful and warm where Damon’s had been sleek and cold, Sienna let herself believe the lie.
This baby was Lucas’s.
This relationship was real.
And when morning came, when she woke to Lucas making her breakfast and asking how she liked her eggs, she almost forgot to feel guilty.
Almost.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Bianca: Have you told him yet?
No. She hadn’t. Because telling Lucas the truth meant losing everything she’d built these past weeks—the job, the relationship, the future that suddenly looked less terrifying.
She would tell him soon.
Just not today.
But that afternoon, as she sat in Lucas’s kitchen watching him cook, feeling the secret weight of new life growing inside her, her phone lit up with a call from an unknown number.
She answered without thinking. “Hello?”
“Sienna.” Damon’s voice, sharp and dangerous. “We need to talk. Now.”
Her blood turned to ice. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then you can listen. My office. One hour. Don’t make me come find you.”
He hung up.
Lucas looked up from the stove, concern crossing his features. “Everything okay?”
The yes lodged in her throat—but she nodded anyway, forcing a smile that felt like shattered glass.
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