Page 91 of Bastian

Ten things the person waiting for me at the end of the path loves about me.

My heartbeat slows with each step I take. I should turn around. I should run in the opposite direction, but my feet have a mind of their own, and so does my foolish heart.

Standing on the end path that separates the hotel and the beach, I look back at the ten men standing in line, all looking at me as if they know me. I guess now they do with the little details they shared about me. One of them knows me more than I sometimes know myself.

Taking a deep breath, I bend over to quickly take my sandals off and walk barefoot toward the beach. Looking down at the sand, I notice lavender-colored petals and seashells creating a path down the beach.

My pulse is racing now, and my mind is reeling, but I walk toward…him.

Once I’m halfway to the end, I feel it.

An ache I’ve carried around in my chest for years splinter painfully.

Turn around and get the hell out of here, I urge myself. Stop being such a masochist.

But I couldn’t.

The desire to see what he planned was too great.

A table for two with lit candles forming a heart around it and twelve, or maybe thirteen, bouquets of gold roses. It’s a scene taken straight out of a fairytale book. The same Ellaiza loved so much when she was a baby.

The moon reflects on the water beautifully as the breeze blows softly around me.

I took the last steps, and there he was. That horrible ache bloomed hotter as I stared up at a larger-than-life Sebastian. Dressed all in white, looking like the God of thunder, Zeus himself, surrounded by only beauty. And even with all the beauty surrounding him, he is still the only thing I see. When I reach the table, he offers me his hand and smiles widely. So irresistible. “You’re here.” He says in awe, with a wicked smile.

“Please don’t insult my intelligence. Of course, I am here. You tricked me.” I intended to sound cold and detached, but somehow, neither happens, and he notices, too, by the twinkle in his blue eyes. “Owner? Really, Sebastian? Do you own the world?” I take his hand, aware of the shock of electricity that runs through my body. With his help, I take my seat and wait for him to take his.

Sebastian was immune to my aloofness. It reminded me that when Sebastian Kenton wanted something, he got tunnel vision. There was no one as determined as this man. The thought exhilarated me as much as it frightened me.

His blinding smile turns into a devious smirk when he says, “Pretty much, yes.” He laughs when I roll my eyes at him. “But I do apologize for leading you here under false pretenses, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Tucking a curl behind my ear, I tsk. “Humility was never your strong suit, Mr. President.”

“Neither was it yours, my darling.” He laughs, and I swear Sebastian was the type of man who could smile at you and make you feel like the only woman in the room. Hell, in the entire globe.

I thought I became immune to it, but I guess not.

We both fall silent after that, and I focus on listening to the waves crashing, trying to shake the nerves that have taken over my body since I sat down. Noticing there’s a glass of wine next to my plate, I chug it down, hoping it helps me feel better.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Sebastian breaks the silence, pointing down at my plate.

“Not really.” I’m lying. I’m starving, actually, and the food in front of me smells and looks terribly delicious.

“Since you don’t wish to eat, perhaps we should talk instead?” He whispers before taking a sip of his glass, looking smug as hell.

Narrowing my eyes, I pick up my fork and poke the food like a child would when they’re not sure if they’ll like it. “What is this?” I look at Sebastian.

He smiles and speaks. “Moussaka.”

“Okay…. What is this Moussaka made of?” It smells delicious.

“Three layers of goodness.” I watch as he takes a bite of his plate first. Searching his expression for any signs of distaste, I find nothing but a pleased look. “Made with sauteed eggplants, minced meat in sweet–spiced tomato and bechamel sauce on top.” Taking a bite of my own, a moan slips out the moment the savory goodness hits my tastebuds. Delicious, indeed.

We dine in silence, but even the silence is loud between us. It always was. Before, we didn’t need words to communicate. Sebastian’s eyes said it all, and I see nothing has changed. Is this real? I wonder as I watch him eat quietly without taking his eyes off me.

The problem with betrayal is that you can forgive, but sadly, you never forget. The doubt lingers and taunts you until you’re left to wonder what’s true and what isn’t.

That, my friend, is… trauma.

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