Page 113 of Bastian

None.

And this is not me saying it because I am irrevocably and hopelessly in love with her but because it is the truth. No woman has ever or will ever compare.

“You know… this isn’t as fun as the photos on social media make it seem every year.” She looks up at me with a grin on her face and no longer sad eyes. That’s it, darling. Smile at me. Laugh with me. All with me. “I much rather be watching a mermaid movie or baking cupcakes with Ellaiza and the mutt.”

“I was told that you and said mutt developed a bond.” I tease her about the dog, loving the fire in her eyes when I do.

“Bond is a strong word…” She rolls her eyes when I laugh. I can’t stop smiling when she is around, and that’s how I knew that there was no curing me of this obsession. There is no stopping it, either.

She grumbles at the same time I swing us side to side. “Do not be extra, Sebastian.” She holds tighter to my shoulders while I spin us around while John Legend’s Nervous, the piano version, plays in the background. After ten minutes of fighting me, she gave up and got on my feet. The woman is a menace on the dance floor and has no interest in learning to dance, which I do not mind whatsoever since I prefer her dancing while on my feet. Laughing, I hold her closer, forgetting that we’re in a room filled with people and not alone. That’s what she does to me. She stops the world, until there is only us. Magic.

My Arianna is magic.

“That existential feeling when you’re staring at the stars.” My hands tighten on her back as I draw her closer, and like a fool, I sing along to the song, loving the way she tenses for a second before relaxing in my arms. That is it, darling. Fall into me. It’s fair since I have been falling from the first day I met you. No, I have been falling since before I knew of your existence. Of that I am certain.

“You old fool.” she hisses, but there’s a hint of humor.

“There’s a hurricane in my head…but the lightning in my heart makes it worth it.” I watch as she slowly lifts her eyes, clashing with mine. Green eyes that shine so bright and radiate warmth. How she thought otherwise is beyond me. “Yeah, I still get nervous…”

Her smile softens, and so do her eyes. “Since when do you listen to modern music, Sebastian? I thought you didn’t listen to anything from this century.” I laugh at her adorable way of telling me I am old as fuck. Brat. Mine. “I heard it by chance at an event I was attending, and every single lyric reminded me of you.”

“You’re so obsessed with me. It’s sick, Mr. President.” She tries to sound unaffected, but the pink on her cheeks tells me my words had an effect. My strong, brave, and sometimes mean as fuck Arianna is blushing, and what a beautiful sight it is. Right up there with my favorite sights. My woman throwing her head back while she is laughing or when she’s about to fall apart in my arms when I make her come undone for me.

“I love you.” I remind her as I do every time I see her. And although she doesn’t say it back. I know. Her sweet eyes tell me just how much.

Time ceases to exist when I hold her in my arms, dancing to the beat of the slow melody…her eyes on me. “I hate you, Sebastian.” She whispers… so vulnerable and so brave because after so many hits to her heart, my brave little fighter has raised the white flag by admitting this. Because when she says hate, we both know she means love. “Good. Give me all of you, mon amour.” I kiss her forehead gently and stay that way for a second.

“Idiote,” she rolls her eyes and gives me a crooked smile.

“Votre imbécile.”

Arianna looks up, all jokes are forgotten, and tightens her arms around me. “Yes…”

And that’s that.

We spend the rest of the dance ignoring the world around us as I sing her a love song. Because the lyrics are more than accurate. I could fall forever for this woman. She also makes me nervous. Imagine that. Me? The most confident motherfucker. The president of the United States.

The son of Ronan Kenton.

Nervous.

I feel nervous every time the woman in my arms looks at me.

Because when she gives me those fiery green eyes, all I feel is her.

I am no longer my own.

I haven’t been for a long time.

I am hers.

Just like she is mine.

I just need to set it in stone.

“One more song and we’re leaving.” The grumpy beauty standing on my Gucci shoes mumbles.

Nodding while smiling like a damn fool I reply, “One more song, and we go home.”

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