Page 183 of All The Happily Ever Afters

I don’t know that she’ll ever know just how much. She is my everything. My only. My hand moves to her belly, to the life we made together. I would do anything for my family. I will do anything and everything to make sure they will never have to be afraid. Our child won’t experience the same life we had.

I won’t allow it.

“What do you want to know?” I ask her, feeling her bare skin pressed against mine. Her hair slips through my fingers and I wait for her to ask any question and I’ll answer it. “I don’t want to lose you or lose this ever again, Chlo. If you need to know something, ask me. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you anything.” I breathe in deep before confessing, “But you may not love me anymore when you hear the truth.”

“Sebastian, you’re crazier than I am if you think I could ever not love you. Right now I want to know where and when you’re working. I don’t like waking up alone.”

While kissing her hair and running my fingers down her back, I answer her, “I can show you one place I may be a lot.” She readjusts on the sofa, moving her small body so more of her is on top of me. I fucking love it. I love how she wants me and how she shows me that she does.

When she lifts her head, her brunette hair tumbles down her shoulder, exposing more of her and I lean forward to kiss that crook in her neck. “You love it when I kiss you here,” I whisper against her skin and she gives me a small, feminine moan of feigned protest.

With her hand splayed on my chest, she straightens and I’m forced to pull back. “I want two things,” she says, staring in my eyes.

“What two things?”

“Show me this one place. And tell me something you’ve done that you think will change things between us. Tell me the worst thing, Sebastian.”

I can’t; I won’t. I won’t willingly lose her like that.

Her baby blues are bathed in desperation when she tells me, “I want to show you what I think of that side of you. The side you like to pretend I can’t see.”

CHLOE

“Aclub?” I say, and the humor of the word rests in its cadence. “Thought you were tired of clubs?” My brow arches as I look up at Bastian when he opens the doors to The Red Room for me. The second he does, the vibrations of the music hit me, and somehow the dim lighting feels even darker than the night behind us.

“It’s different when I’m not working in it,” he comments and I have to clarify, “So you’re not working here?” There’s a small sputter in my chest, afraid that he’s holding back. Afraid that he’s not going to hold up his end of the bargain. It doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t; I’m ready to tell him what I know. And that I love him for it. I love my dark knight. He’s always been my hero.

His lips quirk up as he splays his hand on my lower back and leads me to the long L-shaped bar in the far right of the room. “Not exactly.” Although he’s casual, there’s a tightness in every small feature of his stance and the way he walks.

His answer is one he would have given me a week ago. Hell, even two days ago. He would have left it there, and I wouldn’t have had the balls to push for more. I would have let the unsettling feeling push us farther apart.

Not tonight though, not as we brush by the crowded room, past high tables and men and women whose outfits range from both custom suits and short dresses, to tattered jeans and thin white tank tops. “I’m working with the Cross brothers, and Jase owns this place, so if he needs me here, I may be here, but I won’t be the bouncer or bartender.”

His eyes hold a brightness, even though they’re dark and in them I see the reflection of the bottles that line the bar, and more, so much more.

Passion, desire, a challenge, and … purpose.

It’s disconcerting in some ways as I take a seat at the bar, sitting down on the leather stool. I could never give him this. I don’t want him to fight, but that’s what dark knights are meant to do.

“You want anything to eat?” he asks me and I shake my head, telling him I just want a cranberry juice. He signals for the bartender easily, but I can tell he’s on edge like I am. On edge that the wall of mistruths and hidden secrets is breaking down between us.

“Bastian,” the bartender greets him and then turns to me. “You must be Chloe,” he says without missing a beat. With his sleeves rolled up and his tattoos showing on his forearms, the man looks deadly, even if he’s smiling at me. Italian. Dominating. And sexy as hell.

“Sebastian’s told me all about you and the little addition,” he says, and his eyes drift lower as he searches for the baby bump. “Congratulations,” he tells me.

“Thank you,” I respond but I don’t even know his name, and I could cringe at that. I know so little. I don’t know anyone here, but that’s going to change. Sebastian’s only been here a week longer than me, but it’s obvious that he belongs here. That he’s welcome here.

There’s a small piece of me that wants to be welcome here too. For once in my life.

“Chloe, this is Seth,” Bastian tells me and Seth smiles broad and wide.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he tells me and then someone calls for his attention, taking him away but not before Bastian orders his beer and my drink.

“He works with Jase.”

“Well obviously, since this is his bar.”

“No, I mean…” Sebastian trails off and runs his hand along the back of his head. “Seth likes being behind the bar when he’s not working. But he works really close with Jase,” he tells me and then pauses. Even the music pauses a beat, as if to let the words sink in.

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