Page 78 of Bastian

“Yes, Miss.”

“You can call me, Arianna.” I have no clue whatsoever why I said that.

“Arianna.” The way he pronounces my name has a smile forming on my face. “That’s a very beautiful name.”

My smile has a life of its own. Without realizing it, it widens at the charming man’s compliment.

Before I go and do something stupid and terribly embarrassing like blush, I turn my head and look out the window, focusing on the beautiful streets. I do need to buy a few things and extra clothing just in case anything happens. I am always prepared, but with the rush of the trip, I could only manage to pack a few items.

I don’t mind, nor do I complain or worry much about it. Shopping is one of three of my favorite things to do in this world.

The first is journalism.

The second shopping.

The third is pissing people off.

Pissing him off to be precise.

As always, the tyrant crosses my mind because, even there, he feels entitled to. A tyrant in every sense of the word. Then as I watch the cars pass, and the beautiful city around me, Sebastian’s words from last night replay in my head throughout the drive to my next destination.

You made the world your own. Now, it’s time for me to do the same.

Because you’re it for me, baby. My world.

You were. You are, and you will always be the whole fucking world to me.

* * *

I’m not a woman who enjoys sunny days, and the heat pisses me off. I am more of an autumn and winter person with a weird love for cold and rainy days.

Some people find comfort in sunny and bright days, but I am the complete opposite.

However, even I have to admit that this is one beautiful day, sunny, but not too hot.

Perfect weather for paradise because that is exactly how I would describe Santorini.

Paradise.

It is arguably the most famous of the Greek islands, and it is most known for its whitewashed, cube-shaped buildings adorned with blue accents, steep cliffs, and tangerine sunsets that light up the sky and sea.

Greece was in my top ten countries to visit before I die, and the fact that I am here is still surreal to me. That I get to live this life and travel to so many beautiful places is a dream of mine that I never thought possible.

But he gave me the tools to make it possible, and that is why, deep down in my soul, I haven’t been able to stop loving that man.

I hate him, I do, with a passion, but Christ with that same passion, I love him too.

Maybe that’s why I ran like a scared girl from the White House because I was terrified.

I am afraid that he will get in there again, and this time, I won’t survive it.

Because there is no surviving a man like Sebastian Kenton.

I tried, God knows I tried.

I also ran because I needed space.

Space to think things through and get my head straight so I can deal with the fact that we both have a little person in the middle who knows I am hers just as much as she is mine in my heart. A girl I will undoubtedly hurt if I ruin her father.

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