Page 93 of Taken Off Camera
“You scared me,” I whisper, my palm coming to rest on his cheek, thumb brushing the raised edge of a scar. “Not with your family’s power, but by how much of yourself you’ve kept hidden.”
Sebastian turns his face into my touch, his breath a warm caress on my wrist. Then he rises from his kneeling position in one fluid motion. “Some truths are easier to show than tell.”
The air between us shifts, charged with an electric awareness. His hands find my waist, light enough to allow me to step away if I want. But I don’t. Despite everything I’ve learned today, or perhaps because of it, I need the connection.
I lift my face to his, and Sebastian reads the invitation in my eyes. His head dips, and when our lips meet, the kiss is nothing like our previous, desperate encounters. No fever of Heat driving us together, no panic of reconciliation after days apart. This is a slow, deliberate reaffirmation that we choose each other.
His mouth moves over mine with careful restraint, tasting rather than devouring. My handsslide up his chest to loop around his neck, anchoring myself to him as the world steadies beneath my feet. The subtle flavor of coffee still lingers on his tongue, familiar amid the strangeness of everything else.
I melt into him, my body conforming to his solid warmth. His heartbeat pulses beneath my palm where it rests over his shirt, the rhythm strong and certain.
When we separate, Sebastian rests his forehead on mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us.
“My real fear isn’t what your family might do to others,” I confess, the words escaping on an exhale. “It’s the fear that I don’t fit in here. I knew you came from money, but being here has shoved home how far out of my depth I am.”
Sebastian’s hands slide to frame my face, his callused thumbs resting at the corners of my mouth. “I won’t deny that money makes things easier, but the Rockfords aren’t a monolith, Micah. We share blood and resources, but each of us navigates our reality differently. Ezra has a gallery he lives above, Leo works in data entry, and Phoenix volunteers at the Omega Youth Center. For me, the security room I showed you yesterday was my entire world until I met you.”
His words sink in, offering possibilities I hadn’tconsidered. The Rockfords might present a united front to the world, but within their ranks, diversity exists. Ways to belong without surrendering individuality. Ways to accept protection without becoming a mirror of those who provide it.
“There’s more you need to understand,” Sebastian continues, stepping back to take my hand. “About my family, our past, and why we fight the way we do.” His fingers interlace with mine, the gesture more intimate than our kiss. “Come with me?”
“Yes."
Sebastian leads me from the war room, away from glowing monitors and Travis’s pixelated face. The door closes behind us, sealing away the morning’s uglier revelations.
The manor unfolds around us, corridors branching through the house. We pass gilt-framed portraits of stern-faced ancestors, their eyes following our progress. Antique furniture gleams with the dull luster of frequent polishing, each piece worth more than everything I own. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbows on walls covered in silk damask, the colors dancing as we move beneath them.
We climb a curved staircase, the wood beneath our feet polished by generations of footsteps before ours. Sunlight streams through tall windows at thelanding, warming the air and casting long shadows across the plush carpet runner. Sebastian pauses at a set of French doors, glass panels revealing a stone balcony beyond.
He turns the brass handles, pushing the doors open, and the late morning air hits me with an unexpected chill. Before us, the Rockford estate unfolds like its own miniature kingdom, with manicured gardens giving way to wilder woodland, a private lake gleaming copper in the fading light.
Beyond the property’s boundaries, the city rises in the distance. So close, but so distant from this world I stand in now.
Sebastian releases my hand to close the French doors behind us, sealing away the sounds of the mansion. Out here, the world narrows to wind rustling through ancient oaks, birds calling, and the faint, far-off hum of traffic beyond the estate’s walls. The stone railing chills my palms as I lean forward, breathing in the fresh air.
“Cold?” Sebastian asks, noticing my slight shiver.
Before I can answer, his arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me against the warmth of his side. His body radiates heat through his shirt, a personal furnace I can’t help leaning into. The gesture comes across as protective rather than possessive, adistinction I’m learning to appreciate more with each hour in his world.
“My ancestors were monsters,” Sebastian says without preamble. “Not the kind from children’s stories. The real kind who built empires on broken bodies and called it business.”
The abrupt shift startles me, but I remain silent, sensing the importance of what’s coming.
“The Rockfords weren’t always wealthy philanthropists with art collections and charity galas,” he continues, focusing on the horizon. “We were deeply embedded in what polite society calls organized crime. The Rockfords were involved in extortion, loan sharking, and protection rackets. They stole property and robbed people. Violence was their primary export.”
His arm tightens around my shoulders, though whether seeking or offering comfort remains unclear.
“The fortune that built this house came from generations of blood money. A few generations back, we tried to go legitimate, but then my grandfather managed to squander the entire fortune, and so we reverted to what we knew best.” Sebastian speaks without apology, only stark acknowledgment. “When Aaiden took over, he cut out the worst of it. No more drugs or gun running.”
The city glitters as the sun comes out from behind the clouds, a constellation of human-made stars spread across the valley below us. From this distance, it’s beautiful. Up close, I’m all too familiar with its grime and dangers.
“Over the past decade, we’ve established legitimate businesses, philanthropic foundations, and community initiatives.” Sebastian’s free hand gestures toward the city. “We’ve reduced our ‘gray’ dealings to illegal imports. Most of the family was satisfied with this new direction. Clean-ish money, respectable reputation, and influence without explicit violence.”
A cool breeze stirs his hair, and Sebastian pulls me closer to ward off the chill. The familiarity of the gesture strikes a chord within me, how fast we’ve fallen into these small intimacies.
“Then a customer got too aggressive with Leo at Nolan’s workplace, and Nolan put him in the ground for it. And then Leo was kidnapped.”
I stiffen at this revelation.
