(Author's POV)
For a half-second, no one in the room moved.
Sienna stood in the front hallway with her coat still slung over the crook of her arm, her shopping bag dangling lightly from two fingers, and looked at the three of them like they were the strange ones. Her hair was windblown in a way that suggested the kind of afternoon that had cost real money - lunch somewhere visible, a stop at the salon, a slow walk back to the car so the right people could see her. There was lipstick on the rim of the takeaway cup in her hand. Her eyes were bright. The loose drape of her coat hid the slight, soft curve at her waistline that had begun, in the past several weeks, to insist on a different cut of clothing.
She had no idea.
That was the part Stefan would think about later. She had no idea.
