Page 13 of Sebastian's Secret

The best Sebastian could commit to as he stood in the doorway was getting out of the office. He needed fresh air.

“I don’t feel well, Bal.” Sebastian almost smirked at his brother’s displeasure. Balthazar had always loathed the shortened version of his name. “I have to go.”

“Do you need a doctor?” His brother’s expression shifted from irritation to concern, his hand resting on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“No.” Sebastian regretted his curt tone, but he couldn’t hold back his frustration. It had grown for years like a viscous mold hellbent on taking him over. Maybe he needed therapy? “Just the fresh air.”

“Okay.” Balthazar’s attention darted to their two brothers, who had heretofore remained silent as they watched the exchange. “I guess we can reschedule.”

“Great.” Draco sighed. “As if these meetings aren’t dull enough. Now, we have to duplicate them.”

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian snapped, shrugging away from Balthazar. “I have to go.”

Stalking out of the board room, he disregarded the smiling faces of those he passed.

Definitely not like him. But he didn’t care. His head was filled with contraction, a familiar sense of powerlessness and shrinkage that had become a constant companion. He’d sworn on the day he signed his father’s deal that if he had no choice in marriage then he’d disregard the bloody rule and not marry at all—he’d give up his rights to the wealth once he’d had the opportunity to revel in it—but now that vow seemed to be swallowing him up.

Heading down the spiral stairwell, Sebastian lunged for the front door, gasping in a lungful of air as he passed through. Based in the city, the offices of Drakon Finance didn’t have the benefit of the crisp mountain air he loved the most, but it was better than nothing. Better than the consuming claustrophobia that had devoured him inside.

Turning onto the avenue, he started to walk before breaking into a jog. Dressed in the standard smart-casual suit, he was hardly appropriately attired for exercise, but it was just another thing he didn’t care about. By the time he reached the corner of Broadway Park, the beast inside him stirred. He resisted the urge to shapeshift, instead lengthening his stride and steering along the crossing before sprinting into the park.

Chapter Six

Rebecca

Another crap day. Gripping her phone in her hand, she sighed. For someone who came from wealth and influence, Rebecca was privy to a lot of shitty experiences. Glancing out of the blackened window of the town car, she didn’t bother to listen to her brother as he ranted to someone else on the phone. Neither did she return the longing looks of his driver, Pedro. She was no more interested in Pedro than she was in Oliver’s latest fury. Both were meaningless to her.

Everything had seemed vacant since Sebastian. Her throat tightened at the thought, his name ricocheting around her body.

Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian. The word was a bullet, designed to maim.

Things had been so good between them, and he’d left on great terms. She hadn’t imagined that, had she?

No, she decided. They’d swapped numbers, which she never did, so she couldn’t have contrived the connection. It had been real.

So, why hasn’t he been in touch?

The query sliced into her like a blade. She didn’t know why, didn’t know what she’d done to offend him. Perhaps he hadn’t given her his actual number and she’d been sending sexy texts to a stranger. Anxiety furled in her belly as she considered the possible outcome. What if it was a member of the press? The Monroe name meant she and Oliver sometimes had paparazzi waiting for them, and they were fiends. Those bastards wouldn’t think twice about running with her messages and exposing Rebecca for what she was—a fool. She should never have bought into the sentimentality, should never have given Sebastian her number. This was on her. That was the worst part—she’d brought it on herself.

“He’s not a pap,” she murmured, clutching the device tighter.

“What?” Oliver snapped, throwing her an ugly look.

“Nothing,” she answered without meeting his eyes.

“Good,” he retorted. “Then shut it.”

Charming, but it was typical Oliver. She swore he’d been born sniping and complaining about something. He seemed to have been doing it ever since.

Paying no attention to him, she lifted her phone and scanned through her messages. Inevitably, her gaze fell on the thread she’d started with Sebastian, her cheeks flaming as she re-read the half a dozen communications she’d sent. They’d started cheeky and fun, sliding to concerned and unsure, but once he hadn’t returned three missives, she’d unleashed an abusive one. Now, switching off the device, she regretted them all.

“Fuck,” she muttered, humiliated and confused by his abrupt rejection. It would have been hard enough to bear if she understood it, but this was impossible to tolerate. “Stop the car, Pedro.”

The driver didn’t hear her over Oliver’s shouting match, and leaning forward, she unfastened her safety belt, thinking immediately of Sebastian again, and the way he’d insisted she stay safe. Why would he do that only to never be in touch?

“I said, stop the car, Pedro!”

“Miss?” Pedro peered at her in the mirror.

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