Page 32 of Sebastian

It’s the only thing she hasn’t bundled up in her arms.

“Nah.”

I shake my head, feeling obligated to grab them so she doesn’t think I’m a total douche for having the staff wait on me hand and foot. Even though they do, she doesn’t need to know that yet.

Yet.

I don’t know why I just thought that. I’m not looking for a relationship, although that’s what she wants, and I did say, let’s see where this goes. But am I really open to seeing where it goes? She’s been a hell of a lot of fun so far. She hasn’t nagged or judged me, even though she likes to give me a slight ribbing about my life and lifestyle. Neither of which bothers me. She’s hot as fuck and knows what she wants when I fuck her. Both of which I love.

Would I want to see her again? Hell yeah. Could I spend more time getting to know her? Probably. She’s a lot more intriguing when she’s not all dolled up in her perfect persona. But we’ll have to see about all that once we get inside and see how we get along outside the bedroom.

I squat down to pick up my shoes and then motion for her to hand me our clothes. I’ll give them to Martha to deal with when we go in.

“Are you okay? You grew awfully quiet.”

She follows me through the property and up the stairs to the terrace.

“Yeah, I’m golden. Why would you ask?”

I know why she’s asking. This is probably the longest I’ve been quiet and reflective with her since I met her, except when she mentioned my parents. To be honest, I’m trying to figure out how I feel about her.

“No reason.”

I open the door for her to sail through. When she catches her reflection in the mirror, she stops and shrieks. Her hands work overtime to fix the damage from plunging into the water.

“Sebastian!” Her blue eyes grow wide with astonishment, and her mouth opens in a silent gasp. “I look like a fright. I resemble a possessed person from one of those Halloween movies.”

Yep, I called it and am pretty proud of myself for getting it right. She’s madly wiping her pruned fingers against her cheeks, but the stuff is too stained to come off. I step up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and rest my chin on her head—the smell of chlorine clings to both of us.

“You’re still hot to me even if you look like Harley Quinn.”

She stops rubbing her smeared red lips long enough for our eyes to meet in the reflection, asking, “Who’s Harley Quinn?”

Now I’m shocked. “Who’s Harley Quinn? How in the world do you not know the hottest chick in the Suicide Squad?”

“Suicide Squad? Is that a band?”

“Wow. You’ve never . . . okay, that’s what we are doing. While you shower, I’ll set everything up in the theater room.” Then I remembered that Gio destroyed that room last night with all his vomiting and excess. “Scratch that. We’ll watch it in my room.”

“Oh, it’s a show. Then no, I haven’t seen it. I don’t own a television.”

She could knock me over with a feather.

“You don’t have a TV?” Who doesn’t . . .”

Without a second thought, I let go of her waist, take her hand, and quickly place the clothes on the hallway table. Eagerly, I lead her upstairs to present the expansive projector screen in the theater room.

“You’re missing out. You could have something like this in your apartment.”

I push open the double doors, expecting to see the same disaster from last night, only to find it thoroughly cleaned, smelling good, and with Gio’s dumb ass still in the middle of the room watching a nature show.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” I demand, raising the light to blind his ass. I don’t want to entertain him when I want to get Chloe comfortable again and have her in my bed many times over.

“Chill, chill, chill,” Gio says, moving his hands downward to lower my voice. It’s obvious he’s still hungover and hurting by his bloodshot eyes and the dark circles under them. “I didn’t want to interrupt you outside . . . hey, I’m Giovanni.”

He raises his index finger as a greeting while Chloe gasps and runs out of the room.

“Gio, I’m going to fucking murder you. You better swear you didn’t see anything, or I’m going to beat your ass.”

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