Page 95 of Bastian

Not cocky.

No vindictive. Not at all.

Just… alive.

A look that takes over when he’s with his kid. How he used to look at me before.

But now I am back in the states and nothing.

Radio silence.

Not one call.

No messages.

Nothing.

Zero, zip, zilch.

That’s not the worst thing. Not at all. The worst thing is that it bothers me.

Why hasn’t he reached out?

I am losing control, and I can’t stand it.

It makes me weak, and being weak around Sebastian is the worst thing I can be. It’s dangerous.

“You’re fine,” My brain tries to assure me.

“No, you are not.” My heart argues.

See? My brain and heart can never be on the same page when it comes to that man.

Because of all this turmoil, I ran.

I panicked, okay?

I want to blame the night we spent together on the delicious Ouzo cocktails, but that would be a lie, and although I am acting like a coward. I am not a liar.

I got caught up in the moment.

You little liar… the disturbed little devil on my shoulder singsongs.

Shush, I snap back.

“Parisi.” The barista calls out my name and hands me my coffee.

“Thank you.” Walking towards the exit of the coffee shop, I notice a small crowd of paparazzi and journalists outside the small shop. I sigh and prepare myself for the chaos that will break the second I step a foot outside.

Since I got back I’ve been harassed by the media wanting to know about me and wanting me to comment on my relationship with the president, which I refused, of course. As if I’ll ever give my competition anything to use against him or me, for that matter. Besides, Sebastian is mine to mess with and mine alone.

You don’t want anyone else hurting him… do you? I ignore the little voice inside my head and move quickly through the flashing lights to get to my car with my head down. If they as much as get a hair out of place, I’ll sue their asses. I can handle being followed and hounded with questions, but I won’t tolerate anyone putting their hands on me.

Once I reach my matte-white Continental GT Bentley, I take off my black frame sunglasses, breathe in and hold it for three seconds before releasing the air. I do it three more times. It helps to drown out the noise outside. I can handle the press. It never bothered me, not even when I was young and knew nothing of this world. Yet, Sebastian didn’t trust I could handle it.

I must admit that what he told me makes sense. I have my own trauma, but I never had to witness the horrible murder of my parents at such a tender age. Parents that he loved more than anything. I also never realized that the great Sebastian Kenton. The fearless and all-powerful man that I came to love more than life was terrified. Terrified of having what happened to his parents happen to me.

When I think of what my family did to his, it makes me nauseous, and all I see is red.

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