Page 6 of Taming the Beast (Fairy Tales of New York)

Chapter Two

‡

With hindsight, thought Mercy, standing in Seb’s vast open-plan living space, her knees weak and her heart galloping, confronting him here, at home, hadn’t perhaps been the best idea she’d ever had.

Nothing had changed. In front of her was the couch where he’d first kissed her then gotten her naked, where he’d pushed her knees apart, knelt between them and set his mouth to her until she sobbed his name and came apart mere moments later. To her right stood the armchair upon which she’d later straddled him, nudging her breasts in the direction of his mouth and begging him to take them as she sank herself down onto him. And then, over there in front of the now dark and empty fireplace was the huge white sheepskin rug where they’d ended up, gasping and moaning before collapsing in an exhausted heap of hot tangled limbs.

Hmm.

On second thoughts, she might have been better off waiting until Monday morning and seeking him out in his office.

But no. That wasn’t an option. She didn’t want to wait. She couldn’t. Not when Zel was downstairs and hurting. And definitely not after Seb’s sly reference to That Night. That hadn’t been casual. That had been calculated, designed to rile. The glint in his eye, the one she didn’t trust one little bit, had told her

that.

But no matter. If he thought he could ruffle her feathers with that, he was wrong because she was immune. Over him. And over it. She wasn’t riled in the slightest. She could handle anything. So memories? Pah. What memories?

Channelling her thoughts to the matter in hand Mercy sat herself down right in the center of said couch in a deliberate move to show just how perturbed she was, and looked him dead in the eye. “So,” she said brusquely. “You and Zelda.”

“What about us?” said Seb, making himself comfortable in the armchair with the hint of a smile that she presumed was designed to unnerve her further and that she duly ignored.

“You saw her earlier. You upset her.”

“I usually do.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He gave a slight shrug. “Not particularly.”

“But she’s your sister.”

“That’s her bad luck.”

Huh. Wasn’t it just. “She needs your support, Seb,” she said, undeterred by his indifference because she had every intention of just ploughing straight though it. “Now more than ever.”

“Why?”

“Her love life is in bits and the press are out for her blood.”

“The latter I’d noticed. The former is nothing new.”

“You could help with both, if only you pulled your head out of your ass.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, a reaction at last. “This is no more any of your business than it was five years ago, Mercedes.”

“It is my business, Sebastian,” she said, the heat and indignation rising up inside her making her think, OK, so maybe she was just a little bit riled. “Whether you like it or not. Zelda’s one of my best friends. I saw her when she was at rock bottom. I hauled her out. I helped get her into rehab. I was there for her when you were nowhere to be seen. I still am. But she needs you, and unfortunately, as much as I’d like to, I can’t fix that for her. Only you can. And you owe it to her to try.”

She stopped. Waited. But if she’d hoped that Seb would be moved by her impassioned speech, she was to be disappointed because he merely shrugged in that infuriating way he had and said, “There’s nothing to fix. There’s nothing due.”

She stared at him. “What planet are you on? There’s everything due. She’s always needed you and she always will.”

“Then she faces a lifetime of disappointment.”

Judging by the flatness of his tone, his complete lack of concern, and the utter blankness in his eyes, that was all he had to say on the matter, and for a moment Mercy didn’t know what to say or what to do because how could he be so obstinate, so brutally bleak?

Oooh, she wanted to shake him. She wanted to pummel him. Slap him. Anything that would get some sense, some emotion into him. She could feel the urge to do it bubbling up inside her but she banked it down because while she did have fiery Latin blood flowing through her veins she wasn’t the type to resort to violence, and anyway, she doubted any physical blow she could land would make a difference.

However, nor could she fail. Not again. So Seb might consider this conversation over but she wasn’t finished. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She had plenty more to say. And yes some of it might be a bit harsh, but what did she have to lose? What did Zelda have to lose? Nothing.

---