Page 15 of Julia.

He leans slightly closer to my face, causing my lips to part at the proximity. “I came here, looking for you. And when I saw you dancing with someone else…I had to step in.” His voice is low and intimate, and my heart flutters at the sound of it. “Now tell me, Julia, what were you thinking about?”

I’m lost in his gaze, completely under his spell. The only thing right now that I’m thinking about is to kiss him. To close the tiny space left between us and feel his lips pressed against mine. As if he could read my most intimate thoughts, his gaze lingers around my face until they stop on my lips. I know he wants me as much as I want him.

I open my mouth to speak, ready to confess everything to him, but before I can utter a word, we’re interrupted by a loud female voice.

“Ah, Julia! Here you are!” I turn around to see who is calling me and notice a lady, the age of my mom, walking towards us. “I’m sorry to interrupt the dance, but your mom is getting tired and she wants to go home.”

“Now?”

“Yes, dear. Now.”

I look back up at Sebastian, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. I don’t want to leave this moment, but my mother’s friend has broken our bubble of intimacy and is now working her way to pull me out of his arms. The entire rest of the ball filters back into my consciousness—the noise, hustle, and bustle of it all, hundreds of different conversations going on all at the same time while I had been pretending that Sebastian and I were all alone. I feel my face flush with embarrassment, slowly letting go of him and allowing my hands to fall to my sides.

“I’ll see you soon, Miss Van Dieren,” Sebastian murmurs, quietly enough that only I can hear it, and takes my hand to brush the lightest of kisses over my knuckles before releasing me. It makes me shiver, but I don’t have much time to parse through the feelings as my mother’s friend clears her throat impatiently.

I take one last look at Sebastian, the first man to ever attract and fascinate me, and sigh, turning around and following the other woman out of the ballroom. It takes an insane amount of willpower to not turn back and gaze at him one more time. But as he said so well, we will see each other soon.

* * *

There is an obvious, palpable awkwardness in the car as our driver takes Mom and I home. I haven’t seen her since the dance with Sebastian, and it’s all too clear that she isn’t happy with me. I’m having a difficult time figuring out why, though. I mean…didn’t she want me to mingle and dance? As the Van den Bosch estate fades away, Mom breaks the silence, causing a knot to form in my stomach. I know she’s going to ask about Sebastian, and I'm not sure how to answer.

“How come Sebastian van den Bosch was dancing with you?” Her tone is as incriminating as an FBI agent inquiring about a potential suspect.

“I don’t know. He just came out of nowhere, I guess. Don’t worry, he was a total gentleman,” I tell her, trying to sound nonchalant.

Her eyes narrow. “Did you meet him before?”

“No,” I say breezily.

It doesn’t fool Mom, though. “Don’t lie to me, Julia.”

“I didn’t. I met him there,” I insist, hoping she'll believe me.

But Mom looks worried and stern as she thinks something through. The sternness is normal, but it’s rare that I see her genuinely worried.

“What?” I ask, leaning forward to see her face better. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“I don’t want to see you again with that man, Julia. Are we clear?”

The question makes me feel defensive almost instinctively.“Mom, it was just a dance. I don’t know him any more than I knew the other men there.”

“I’m just warning you. Sebastian shouldn’t have danced with you in that way. It was very inappropriate.”

My mouth falls open. “Inappropriate how, exactly?”

“Everyone was staring in shock at how close to you he was. That man is thirty-three. Did you know that?”

I shake my head, feeling a little foolish for not realizing it sooner. Of course, people would disapprove of it on the age gap alone. But at the same time, I find myself replaying every detail in my mind—the way he looked in his suit, the way his dark hair fell on his forehead, the way he smelled. It was all so intoxicating. With a quick shock, I realize that I don’t care about his age…not at all. So I shrug and tell her, “No, I didn’t know that, but he didn’t do anything that I didn’t like.”

Mom’s laugh is cruel and mocking. “Oh, you. Stop being silly. He’s a pervert, don’t you see? I can smell men like him coming from miles away. You are a beautiful woman, but still very young,” she lectures me, and I bristle at the way she speaks to me as if I’m some sort of idiot.

“I’m turning twenty in a few months,” I remind her, feeling a little indignant.

“Precisely. You are way too young.”

When she doesn’t continue, I let the conversation die, looking out the window and watching as the lights of the homes and city go by, thinking about how I can’t wait to get out of this dress and go through the night in my mind at my own pace.

As we drive home, I begin to feel conflicted. Mom is right about one thing…Sebastian being thirty-three and me being nineteen really is quite the age gap, but things like that aren’t so uncommon in our world. I think Mom is only so cautious because I’m her daughter, and she wouldn't think twice about an interaction like Sebastian and I’s dance if we had been anyone else.

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