by Lyla Payne
Since Em and Quinn are hanging on every word, I’m playing the girlfriend right now, which gives me the leeway to respond exactly the way I want to. “Yes. Because when I won the Kappa election you were the only person I wanted to tell. The first person I thought to call. I came all the way to your house to tell you in person just so I could see the look on your face, see that you were proud of me. And you robbed me of the chance to give that to you in return. To be happy with you, not just for you.”
His jaw falls slightly open, badly hidden surprise on his face that flashes to pure happiness before shuttering closed. “I … I didn’t want to talk about it in case I didn’t get the job.”
Pride. Men are stupid.
I close my eyes, already forgiving him now that I’ve gotten to say what’s been brewing in my mind. “So, you got the job.”
“Yes.”
He’s not smiling because he’s worried about my feelings, and that sucks. So, I grin and throw my arms around his neck, pressing a not-too-chaste kiss to his lips.
“That’s amazing,” I whisper against his mouth before he closes the gap again, flicking my lower lip with his tongue and making me wish we were alone in this limo.
“Thank you.” He lets me go after one more peck and turns to his brother. “I’m going to be cashing out my shares of Rowland after graduation. Giving up my interest in the company.”
Quinn, for his part, doesn’t seem to be taken off guard by the news. He smooths nonexistent wrinkles from his black pants and considers the statement. “I heard you speaking with Toby at the bar the other night. Even after we talked at the house, I didn’t quite believe this wasn’t part of some scheme. Why would you give up your interest? It’s free money.”
“Because I want to be able to spend that money the way I see fit, and Teddy’s money has always come with stipulations.”
“True, but he’s never balked at any of your expenses so far, and we both know the majority of them have been questionable, if not outright illegal.”
Emilie meets my gaze, hers still thoughtful. Studious. I wonder if Cole put her up to studying the two of us and reporting back. Probably. Now she’s going to tell him that we got in a fight because Sebastian doesn’t tell me anything. Oh well. There are worse things.
“Well, I’ve managed to find something even Teddy’s not okay with. My mother.”
That surprises Quinn. His blue eyes open wide and it takes him several moments to compose an answer. “Your mother? You’ve spoken to her?”
“Yes, and she has a different story than Teddy’s about how I came to be in his custody.” Sebastian holds up a hand to cut off Quinn’s fast response. “I don’t necessarily believe her, but there are other forces at play here, and I need to be able to use my money as I see fit.”
My heart hurts at the evasion, at the half-truth. If I hadn’t slept over that night, hadn’t overheard that conversation with the hospital and insisted on going with him, no one would know the truth about Jocelyn. That she’s sick and he wants to take care of her.
Sebastian doesn’t have a single person he trusts. Some of that is his own fault—the kind of life he’s lead at Whitman hasn’t earned him any friends and plenty of enemies—but to think he’s been alone like this his whole life is almost too much to bear. I snuggle into his side, laying my head on his shoulder.
“Is she in trouble?” Quinn looks as though he doesn’t expect an answer, but it warms me that he would even try. Both brothers are growing and changing, figuring out that life inside the Rowland mansion might not be the kind of life they want for themselves. Maybe there’s still hope for them to end up as allies. Survivors.
“Yes.” Sebastian’s admission is throaty and rough, as though pried from his throat with a crowbar. Pride blooms in my chest, hot and sticky and lovely, and I squeeze his hand.
“I think it’s honorable. Wanting to help her no matter whose story is true.” Quinn pauses until Sebastian looks up to meet his gaze. “I lost my mother, Seb. It doesn’t matter what kind of person she might have been; if she needed my help, I would give it to her.”
Sebastian smiles at his brother—really smiles—as the car pulls up to a country club that’s just down the beach from the Rowland property. The people entering are dressed in expensive designers and I’m glad I went all out with my gown and hair. We join the line, and once inside Emilie and I spend an hour or so as arm candy while the guys perform their company schmoozing duties.
I can feel Sebastian getting antsy, maybe wondering why we’re here if he’s going to cut ties sooner rather than later, so when there’s a break in the line I lean in and whisper, “Just get through tonight. Don’t do anything rash.”
He gives me a smile that’s grateful and a look that says he’d rather be home and naked than dressed up in these clothes. I raise an eyebrow and bite my lip to show my agreement and we breathe matching laughs.
We get through dinner before the guys are called off for cigars and money talk, and Emilie and I find ourselves alone for a few minutes.
“He’s so different.” She smiles when I glance over, wary. “Sebastian. I mean, I’ve suspected for some time that he wears his Sick Fuck label like armor. That he’s always wanted to be part of things at Whitman but doesn’t know how to do that unless it’s by having power over people. But he’s different with you.”
“I’m not sure it’s me as much as this whole thing with his mother.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Sebastian Blair is in love with you.”
I try hard to hide the stunned expression that contorts my face but her confusion says she doesn’t miss it. “You don’t think your fiancé is in love with you?”
“No. No, of course I do,” I blurt, trying to cover up the wrong reaction while my head reels with the confirmation from a third party that every rhetorical statement Sebastian made the other morning was true.
He’s falling in love with me for real but doesn’t think we could be right for each other.
But how can someone who makes me feel 100 percent like me be wrong?
“I’m just surprised he’s letting other people in on the secret,” I finish lamely.
She looks at my ring again. “I’d say he’s already done that.”
“Money, especially Teddy’s, doesn’t mean that much to him.”
“No, but you do. You mean the world to him, Audra, and I can’t believe I’m saying this either, but … be careful with him. People like Sebastian, who have spent their lives alone, are fragile.” She pauses. “Everyone deserves a second chance. In my experience, giving one of those to the right person can be the best decision of your life.”
Fragile. Not a word I’d associate with Sebastian, but I know what she means. He’s finally opening up. Caring about someone—me. Jocelyn. Thinking about his future as though he has an investment in it.
“Speaking of assholes, did you know your ex-boyfriend got expelled?”
That snaps my head out of dreamland. “What? Logan?”
“Yep. It was in the campus paper today—misuse of the campus network and cheating. Some TA turned him in.”
The cheating doesn’t surprise me, but the mention phrase misuse of the campus network dries up all of the moisture in my mouth. I lick my lips but it doesn’t do any good. Horror squeezes my heart as flat as a pancake—what if Logan getting busted means the chancellor knows about my site?
“Were there any details?” I croak.
“About the misuse? Not really. He cheated in a Political Science class, I guess, and has been passing tests around his frat. Big scandal.”
My body remembers how to function and I let go of the napkin crumpled in my fist. “What an asshole.”
Now that I know my secret is safe, relief floods my bloodstream. It’s sweet and light, full of bubbles and possibilities. Logan’s gone. I never have to see him again.
Tears fill my eyes and I survey the room in order to hide it, my gaze landing on Sebastian. He’s
lingering by the bar, waiting on a drink—and chatting with a leggy blonde. She’s wearing a short dress and her boobs spill out the top, the ends of her hair falling down the crevice. She reaches out a hand and rests it on Sebastian’s bicep, laughing, and my entire body goes cold.
I’m not jealous. Sebastian’s not doing anything to encourage her and he even steps back, out of her reach, with a patronizing smile. He can’t be rude at the event, but his rigid posture suggests that he’d like to be.
My heart feels three sizes too big. We’re the only two people in the room, with blackness around me and some kind of static drowning out almost every thought in my head. In that moment, it hits me like a ton of bricks, this thing I’ve been trying to avoid, to fight off, to force down. The thing that I’m so scared to say aloud I’ve been pretending it doesn’t exist.
I’m in love with him, too.
The way Sebastian keeps looking at me on the way back to the beach house lets me know I’m not acting normal. There’s no way to fix it with the confession littering the tip of my tongue. The desire to tell him the truth, to figure this whole thing out together, burns like a fire inside of me.
I’m going to melt before we have the chance to be alone together.
Emilie and Quinn are staying at the beach house tonight, too, and suggest we all get into more comfortable clothes and then meet back downstairs for a nightcap. It’s been an oddly amicable evening. The guys were bullshitting in the car on the way home, talking about the donors they love and hate, which ones were wearing fake labels and who is cheating on their spouse. It’s so normal. A picture of how things might have been, how they should have been for the brothers all along.
I never want to meet Teddy Rowland. I have a feeling it would become obvious why his two sons were so fucked up when they arrived in the semi-real world of Whitman.
“You know, I’m really tired and I have a headache,” I blurt out, desperate to finally kick loose my fear.
“Are you okay?” Sebastian grabs my hand, concern furrowing his brow.
“I’m fine. Just need some Advil and a glass of water.” I smile even though it feels like ants are marching inside my veins. “It was so much fun hanging out with you two tonight even if we had to go to a boring party. We’ll have to do it again.”
Emilie pulls me into a hug and whispers “Be brave” into my ear, as though she knows tonight is going to be special.
That something happened that should have happened before there was a ring on my finger, but it doesn’t bother me that she suspects. She seems happy for the two of us.
“Good night,” Quinn adds, pulling Emilie off to the bedroom he uses while he’s here.
Then we’re alone.
“Let’s get you those drugs, kitten.”
He tugs me down the hall and into his room, busying himself with the mini fridge and cabinet, dropping pills and a bottle of water on the bed next to me. “Do you need help out of your dress?”
“Maybe in a minute. Could you sit down?”
“Sure.” That quickly hidden worry skitters over his face again. As though there’s not a doubt in his mind that he’s going to have to deal with losing me eventually. “What’s up?”
My hands worry together in my lap, twisting fingers, picking at cuticles, as the words I’ve been practicing, trying and rejecting, land in a hopeless snarl on my tongue.
“Just say it, kitten.”
“Did you mean what you said the other day? About wishing things could be real between us because you’re … because you’ve got feelings for me?”
He pales, his own fingers picking at the bedspread. “I also meant what I said about wishing I was the kind of guy you’d actually want to spend your life with. Because I’m not, Audra. We both know it.”
It’s an admission in a roundabout way. It’s probably the best I’m going to get, and Emilie’s advice rings in my head.
Be brave, Audra.
I suck in a deep breath, then blow it out and look him straight in the eye. “Maybe you weren’t the kind of guy I’d fall for, Sebastian. But you’re changing, you really are. You’re trying. And—aside from the blackmailing—you’ve treated me better and made me feel more amazing than any guy I’ve ever known.”
“I’m not a nice person.”
I lean in closer, until our noses are almost touching and breath mingles between us. “I don’t want a nice guy. I want a guy who tells me the truth, who supports me in my silly ambitions, who can make me come inside two minutes, and who will do anything to make me happy.” I pause, realizing something that only makes me certain I’m doing the right thing. “You got Logan expelled, didn’t you.”
It’s not a question, and even though he doesn’t reply, the surprised flicker in his bottomless eyes gives him away. “I thought so. Even if you didn’t do it for me, thank you. It’s a huge weight lifted off my shoulders knowing that I’m not going to run into him on campus.”
“Consider it an engagement present.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. Some other douchebag would totally get me fucking flowers or some stupid shit.” I lick my lips, 100 percent sure now. “Things like that are why I’m falling in love with you.”
We stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment, happiness soaking me from head to toe at the relieved smile on his face. He reaches up to cup my chin, pulling my mouth to his and kissing me hard, opening my lips with his tongue as my body gets hotter and hotter,
I’m panting by the time I have his tie and shirt on the floor in a puddle. “I’ll take the help with my dress now.”
The way his fingers graze the bare skin of my back as he tugs down the zipper pools wet heat between my thighs, and my breasts tingle with the need to be touched the way Sebastian does it—so attentively. He gets rid of the rest of the clothing between us and then lies down beside me, fingertips stroking my bare skin from my shoulder, over my nipples, down my belly, and over my hip while I groan and writhe and try not to tell him to hurry up and screw me already.
There’s something different about him right now. He’s drinking in the two of us, lying here together in a silence that needs not a single word, and the contentment coming off him stokes the fire of my raging hormones. They’re building, but slowly now, reaching for an apex that’s frightening and amazing.
That’s when he flips me on my back and settles over the top of me, my thighs spread to accommodate his hips. He slides inside me an inch at a time until he’s buried, watching me the entire time. When we’re as connected as two people can be, and he reaches up to sweep stray hairs off my forehead.
There’s a sheen in his eyes that’s hard to see in the dark, but looks almost like tears. “I’m so sorry.”
I freeze up. “For what?”
“For getting you involved in this whole thing. If I had known you’d be the girl who finally got under my skin, I would have walked away. Because you deserve so much better,” he whispers.
My chest tightens and tears fill my eyes. “Sebastian, all I need is for you to keep being the best version of you. I don’t want you to be anything different.”
He rests his forehead against mine and starts to move inside me. We find a pace that’s satisfying and steady, but without any hurry. I want him inside me forever, no matter how silly an idea that is. He’s getting closer but I’m too caught up in the emotion to meet him there, or at least that’s what I think until he slips a hand between us. Sebastian holds on until his stroking fingers make every muscle in my body clench and the world go black around the edges. Then we’re gasping each other’s name at the same time, the feeling of tumbling off a cliff combining with the sounds of his pleasure to make the moment almost too much. Too perfect.
I’ve never done this before—made love. It’s tender but hot, sexy but sweet, and I like it. I like it a lot.
I’m drifting off to sleep when something occurs to me. “Sebastian?”
“Hmm?”
“This doesn’t change anything as far as our fake m
arriage. It’s still off.”
That makes him chuckle. “Oh, trust me, kitten. As someone who loves you, I’d never let you marry me.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Audra
The ground under my feet has felt like cotton balls. Sebastian and I spend all of our time together—much of it in bed. He told me all about his interview and he agreed that there was no reason to write his resignation to his father until he got the official call from Senator Wright and his first paycheck was in the bank. Which means having to delve back into the dark places that turned him into the Sebastian-monster for a few more weeks.
It worries me that he’ll change his mind about living a harder life. Supporting himself, working for a paycheck, taking care of his mother. Loving me.
It’s April now. The trees and flowers are blooming, every day is an endless stretch of blue sky, and if I try very hard to ignore it, the image of graduation looming on the horizon is still barely visible.
“Miss Stuart, are you with us?”
“What?” I look up to find my History professor, a handsome guy in his thirties who has half the girls in class staying late for office hours twice a week, and realize I’ve missed something. “Sorry?”
“I was asking if you could give us a couple of reasons for the start of the Civil War.”
“Oh, sure.”
I say something about crops and ways of life and taxes and the fact that I say it in a Scottish accent makes several people snicker. Like only Americans can learn about American history. Morons. I’m usually more careful about my dialect slipping through—my brothers use their accents to their advantage with the ladies, but I’m a fan of blending into the surrounding culture. Most of the time I sound American.
“Very good.” Professor Marshall gives me a look that says he expects me to pay better attention even if I did get the answer right, and then moves on to torture someone else.
I’m in love.
Real, stupid, giddy love with the wrong guy, and nothing can bring me down—not even the fact that we have no idea what we’re going to do when he graduates, moves away, and this ring comes off my finger.
