Page 43 of Worth the Heat
Every other day, more of my things have appeared at Sebastian’s house, leading me to believe the man is slowly moving me into his home. Like a covert operation, where he thinks I wouldn’t notice.
My stand mixer sits on his counter.
My throw pillows dot his couches.
My family pictures are randomly placed throughout the space.
How would I miss all of that?
But even if all those things were here, it still doesn’t feel like home.
In only a few short weeks, Sebastian feels more like home to me than this place ever did.
Sighing as I lock the door, I sit on the couch and pick up the remote. Looks like it’s a perfect opportunity for me to catch up on all the chaos of this season’sLove Island.
As I’m beginning the second episode, I hear the exterior door to the complex open with a loud thwack, and I know. I just know it’s Sebastian. Standing, I look around the apartment, trying to decide if I should hide, barricade the door, or open it and deal with him head-on.
Fuck this. I’m ready for a fight.
I open the door at the same moment he’s sliding a key into the keyhole, and I gape at him. “Why do you have a key to my apartment?”
He glares at me. “Who the fuck do you think cleaned this place up? And keeps bringing your shit home?”
My internal girl — as quiet as she is — screams. He referred to his home as mine, and I actually love that.
“Has it ever occurred to you to ask me before doing things, asshole?”
“Has it ever occurred to you that a lot of what I do is for your fucking safety? And that I will take care of your safety However. The. Fuck. I. Want. Because I’d rather die than have anything happen to you? Has that ever occurred to you, Isabella?” His eyes are wild as he slams the door closed and pushes me against the wall. “You were alone in this apartment for ten fucking minutes — TEN MINUTES — and a dickwad got to you. I’ve never been so scared. Why don’t you see that? Don’t you see how gone I am for you?”
He brings his hands to my head, cradling it gently, even though his body vibrates with adrenaline and emotion. Closing his eyes, he rests his forehead against mine, and I grab onto his arms as tears fill my eyes. I feel awful.
“I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you,” he confesses, so quietly I almost don’t hear him. The words are spoken slowly against my lips, like he hopes the words go directly to my soul. “I knew you were it for me. I was willing to wait until you were ready. Until you finally saw me as I saw you. Until then, I protected you the only way I could, by ordering from your bakery. I knew you’d never accept it from me directly, so I did it through the MC and had other people pick it up weekly. Even if you didn’t want me, or my love, I could give you financial peace.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not sure what else to say. Tears cascadedown my cheeks as I study him. Sebastian looks completely heartbroken and miserable. I hate that I did that to him.
“Instead of asking me about it, you take off with your psychotic employee — who, by the way, really should get her license taken away for all the laws she broke today, — almost get hit by a train, and then hide out at your old apartment. Instead of coming to me. Instead of trusting me. Fuck,” he lashes out as he steps away from me. His hands drop from my face as he stares up at the ceiling. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t.”
My stomach drops as I take in his words. “Can’t keep doing what?”
“This.” He gestures between us. “You and me. I can’t keep waiting, desperately hoping you’ll finally see me. That you’lltrustme. You’re never going to see me like I see you. Hell, you’re never going to see yourself like I see you. As an exquisite, gorgeous, breathtaking creature who steals the breath straight from my lungs. I have to stop waiting for you. I have to move on.”
“No,” I whisper brokenly as he continues backing up, and I reach out blindly to him as tears block my vision. “No. Wait.”
“I can’t wait anymore,Naranja. I can’t. It’s not fair to me or my daughter. I want a partner. A family. And if you aren’t willing to give that to me, then I need to move on and try to find someone who will.” His face is laced with pain as he smiles sadly. “If you feel you are comfortable moving back here, I’ll have the men transfer your things back, and I’ll keep someone on watch outside your door night and day until we find the bastards that came here.”
“Sebastian,” I say, sniffling. “No.”
“It’s okay. You can’t help how you feel. Neither can I. Goodbye,mi Amor.” As the door closes behind him, I fall to the floor as sobs wrack my body.
He just gave up on me!
Wait. No. I will not continue blaming others for what I caused.
I pushed him away.
I gave up on him.
This is absolutely my fault.
