Page 149 of Arianna

I might know the best sides of him, but there are still ugly parts there, and I am not blind to them.

He comes from old money, yes, and he does play a dirty politics game.

I don’t mind it at all, though.

You can't survive the crime world by being an honest and goodhearted man.

And the political world is just the same as the world I was born into.

Selfish, corrupted, and sometimes heartless.

We take our places at the table, where his peers greet Sebastian quite hypocritical while some of the women look at him as if they are witnessing God himself. Ugh, it annoys the hell out of me, but not once do I show it. Besides, it helps that Sebastian hasn’t let go of my hand once, and the rude women have taken notice.

Sebastian threads his fingers through mine.

At his touch, warmth spreads over my flesh and sinks to my tethered soul.

Slowly but surely, everything that came before him is fading away.

The cold.

The hurt.

The dark.

Smiling, I take a sip of my water, then pick up my phone and scroll to my news app and notice photos of us arriving at the gala have already been posted.

I entertain myself for twenty minutes while Sebastian talks politics and business with the men at the table. I don't miss the fact that the women do their best to ignore me as if I am not there. As if I am just a child and they’re too good for me.

I pity them. They sit there clutching their pearls, judging everyone while their husbands ignore them, too busy talking business or stealing glances at other women.

That is the case with one of the older men sitting right to Sebastian. The pretentious man with a beer belly keeps staring my way with gross lustful eyes, which Sebastian notices and has him rising mid-conversation as if no one else matters but me.

Somewhat rude but oh so hot.

Ignoring the greedy, envious, and intruding eyes of the people around us, I take his hand and let him lead me to the dance floor. Just in time for the band to start playing their version of Frank Sinatra’s The Way You Look Tonight.

There is something about the way Sebastian looks at me that makes me feel both safe and in danger. If I’m honest, I’d like a man to be a little obsessed with me–I mean, not stalkerish–but that he can’t go an hour, okay, not a day, without seeking me out.

And what is worse is that I am a little bit obsessed with him, too.

Everything and everyone fade into the background, and all that exists is us at this moment.

“Uh,” laughing awkwardly, I look up at Sebastian’s curious eyes. “I can’t dance.” Suddenly feeling vulnerable, I look down, not wanting to make a fool out of myself and embarrass the men in front of everyone here.

He places a finger under my chin, lifting my face to stare into his eyes, then thinks about it for a second with a small smile on his face. “Stand on my feet.”

No way.

Nope.

“Absolutely not.” I scoff. “I am not a child.”

Grinning, he lifts me off my feet with little to no effort and places me on top his very expensive shoes. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it, darling.”

He seems amused and not embarrassed at all.

Shaking my head, I wrap both arms around his broad shoulders as he brings me closer to his body. “Tyrant.”

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