Page 25 of BounBound By Scars

Matthis chuckled. “I’m not Kent, Ms. Desmond. I can’t be swayed.”

I hummed, flashing a victorious smile. Seb just shook his head, smirking like I was both exhausting and amusing.

“Just making sure,” I said with a shrug as Matthis walked away.

We slipped into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing naturally. We laughed about the old days—how Dylan hadn’t changed much, still the same quiet, brooding wall he’d always been.

The food disappeared quickly, and the bubbly fizzed cheerfully in our glasses. It was easy with Seb. Maybe because we’d known each other for nearly two decades. That kind of history lent itself to comfort, even if the circumstances had shifted.

His phone buzzed loudly against the table, pulling his attention. He straightened instantly, alert.

“Something urgent?” I asked, curious. My phone was quiet, so I knew it wasn’t mission-related.

He gave me a casual smile, but there was mischief in his eyes. “Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart.”

That grin—that damn conspiratorial grin—made me narrow my eyes.

He was up to something.

I didn’t know what he had planned, but considering we couldn’t leave the compound, his options were limited.

Still, I wasn’t expecting a surprise.

But damn… was I wrong.

SEVEN

Amelia

I couldn’t fucking believe this.

Why the hell was I staring at dozens of flower arrangements flooding Sebastian’s apartment? His spotless apartment.

He’d cleaned the place. Or more likely, paid someone to do it. Because I’d seen what this place normally looked like—and this wasn’t it.

Every surface—the kitchen island, the coffee table, even the dining table—was covered in a stunning collection of flowers. Creams, blushes, deep reds, burnt oranges… petals of every shape and size gathered in gleaming vases, arranged with almost military precision.

And then there was the man standing near the couch. Dressed in a charcoal suit, hands clasped behind his back like he was awaiting orders from a royal court.

“Thank you, Pierre. I appreciate you doing this,” Seb said smoothly.

“Doing what?” I blurted, spinning to face him.

Seb smirked, all charm and trouble. “This, sweetheart, is a curated,privateexhibition of the most beautiful flower arrangements Pierre could whip up. He’s a botanist turned florist—knows his stuff.”

I blinked at him. Then at the flowers. Then back at him.

My brain fumbled, trying to process. As I stepped closer to the vases, admiring the intricate petals, I realized something incredibly embarrassing.

I couldn’t name a single damn flower.

They were beautiful, sure. But to me, they all looked like roses. Or daisies. Or… maybe that one was an orchid?

“Here,” Pierre said gently, gesturing to the first vase. “This one is a collection of lisianthus and ranunculus, paired with eucalyptus for softness.”

I nodded like that meant something.

We went from vase to vase—Pierre patiently giving me a tour while Seb stood back, hands in his pockets, studying my face like he was waiting for a sign. A flicker. Anything that told him I loved it.

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