Page 29 of The Bourbon Bet
His deep, melodious laughter fills the space between us, warming me in areas he absolutely should not. The car pulls in front of my store and a hollowness fills my chest. I don’t want to be alone with my self-reproach.
Plus, now what? Do I kiss him goodbye? Offer my hand to shake? Wave?
“I’d love to see you again. Can I call you this week?” he asks as his driver opens my door.
“I’d like that.” Using the last of my fading liquid courage, I lean forward, intending to kiss his cheek. But he turns at the same time and my lips land on the firm corner of his mouth, igniting a burst of fireworks through me. Heat rushes from the unexpected contact, and I’m certain a blush is racing up my cheeks. Without daring to meet his gaze, I scramble from the car, closing the door with a soft click.
Standing in the narrow alley, the tall buildings loom on either side. The sleek vehicle idles at the curb, its engine purring softly. I turn to the exterior staircase that leads to my apartment. The cool night air is a stark contrast to the warmth that had enveloped me moments ago.
As I approach the stairs, I glance over my shoulder, my gaze meeting Sebastian’s through the car window. He nods, a silent acknowledgment I take to mean that he’ll give me space but will wait until I’m safely inside before leaving. The simple gesture sends a flutter through my chest.
Grasping the cool handrail, I make my way to my apartment, the metal steps clanging softly beneath my ballet flats. Halfway up, I pause, turning to look at the alley below. The car’s headlights cast a soft glow, illuminating the pavement and the base of the stairs.
I rummage through my bag, my fingers brushing against various objects—a pen, a tube of lipstick, a crumpled paper, the elusive keys playing a game of hide-and-seek amid the clutter. My hand bumps against something unexpected, and I pull out a small box I don’t remember placing there. Holding it, I continue my search for my keys.
Finally locating them, I unlock my door and step inside, flipping on the lights. I drop my keys on the counter with a clatter that echoes in the quiet space. Only then do I examine the mysterious box. Opening it, I find a single chocolate truffle, identical to the one from dessert, wrapped in elegant paper with a note: “For your sweet tooth. —S”
Sebastian must have slipped it into my bag when I wasn’t looking. The gift is thoughtful in a way that’s both wonderful and terrible. I run my thumb over the elegant paper. The wine buzz fades, replaced by the uncomfortable clarity of what I’m really doing with him.
I place the chocolate on my nightstand, a sweet reminder of a night I shouldn’t have enjoyed nearly as much as I did. There’s something disarming about his attentiveness, not calculated but genuine, which only makes it worse.
Part of me wants to believe he’s exactly as he seems: thoughtful, funny, surprisingly normal despite his wealth. That part savors the lingering taste of chocolate and wine, the memory of almost-kisses and shared laughter.
But the other half hopes it’s all an act. If he’s playing me too, then my deception stings less. If he’s the corporate mess Thorne painted, then I’m not betraying someone good; I’m doing what’s necessary to save my store.
I change for bed, glancing at the chocolate one more time. The truth is painfully simple: the more real the connection, the more I become the villain in this story.
ChapterTwelve
Rosalia
The sheets twist around my legs as I shift positions again, replaying every moment of tonight’s dinner with Sebastian. And I swear I can smell the decadent chocolate wafting from the nightstand. The scent seems stronger now in the quiet of the night, becoming an invisible thread pulling at my memories.
I reach for the truffle, picking it up and running it under my nose. It’s dark chocolate with hints of something deeper, more complex—like the man who gaveit to me.
I place it back, unsure whether to savor it or throw it away. I lie back down and close my eyes. I will sleep to come, but it’s elusive.
Pulling the comforter over my body, I snuggle into the soft embrace of my bed, hoping it might wrap me away from the day’s tension. And from a desire I can’t afford to feel.
But when I close my eyes, I’m back in his car. The leather seats cool beneath me, the space intimate and charged. Sebastian has asked if he can call me, and I’ve leaned in to kiss his cheek, but this time, when my lips accidentally brush the corner of his mouth, neither of us pulls away.
The distant sound of a siren wails somewhere in the city, rising and falling before fading, much like my resolve to stop thinking about him. I should force my thoughts away from where I know this is headed, but screw it, I’m in.
In this version, there’s no impending doom hanging over my shop. There’s only him, me, and the electricity crackling between us.
Guilt about my deal with Thorne threatens to surface, but I push it down. Tomorrow, I can hate myself. Tonight, I want Sebastian.
His hand comes up to cup my face, holding me there for a heartbeat. “That wasn’t quite right,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over mine.
“Your driver,” I whisper.
“Not a problem.” Sebastian’s gaze never leaves mine as he pushes a button, and the privacy divider glides up, sealing us in our own world of shadows and anticipation.
His lips curve into that crooked smile that makes my knees weak. “Now, where were we?”
He pulls me closer, his mouth claiming mine in the darkness. The kiss is deep and hungry from the first touch. There’s no hesitation this time. In my fantasy, he takes what he wants. And what he wants is me. His hands move from my face into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss.
“Sebastian,” I gasp when we break apart, both breathing hard.
