I scowl.
So, I guess he wants me to ask nicely, despite all the resentment and bad blood between us. Hell, that’s probably why he’s waiting for me to ask. It’s a power trip.
Everything is like that with him.
I’m in no mood for any more of his games, but the stew looks amazing, so I take a deep breath, and ask as pleasantly as I can, “Is there enough for two?”
“Would you like some?” His smirk makes me feel violent. I bite back a bitter retort.
“Yes, I would. Thank you.”
“Go ahead,” he finally nods to the pot, and I rush to fill a bowl and join him at the table.
Damn, it’s good.
The rich flavors of the stew are heaven, and the way the warmth of it soothes me from the inside out is exactly what I needed. Despite the tension still shimmering in the air between us, I find myself relaxing back into my chair, and I can’t help asking Sebastian the question that’s been on my mind.
“These clothes…” I ask slowly. “Who do they belong to?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I watch as he dips a piece of bread in his stew and tears off a chunk with his teeth. His every movement is deliberate, just like everything else he does, and I can’t help noticing how neat he is. Not a drop of soup spilled. His napkin always at the ready. He’s meticulous.
The way he was attending to my body.
“They belong to Scarlett,” he finally says, and I focus back on the conversation. “I bring her here sometimes.”
His sister. That makes sense.
I tell myself that I wasn’t feeling jealous, but there’s no denying the relief I feel at his explanation. Since we’re talking now, I decide to ask the other question that’s been weighing heavily on my mind.
“What do you think will happen, when they realize we’re gone, and they can’t find the plane?”
Sebastian curls his lip in a hollow smirk. “They’ll assume we’re dead.”
“Oh.”
I suspected as much, but it’s different to hear him say the words. I think of the people I love, and I hate knowing that they’ll assume the worst. Nero, Lily… With any luck, I’ll be able to call in a few days and let them know I’m OK, but still, a few days is a long time to grieve.
But I guess there’s no choice about it now.
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Sebastian asks, and I have to take a moment to follow what he’s saying. “Me, dead,” he continues, a dark look in his eyes.
“Not dead,” I reply quietly. “Just you wishing that you were.”
He snorts, bitter. “My mistake.”
“You asked,” I reply with a shrug. In a way, it’s a relief, not to have to lie and pretend anymore. My old resentment is out in the open now, I don’t need to act sweet and innocent anymore. “So yes, that was my mission. I set out to find the one thing you loved more than anything and take it from you.”
Sebastian meets my eyes, burning and intense. “Well, you did it,” he replies simply. “Congratulations. Mission accomplished.”
He pushes back his chair, before I can ask what he means. He rinses his bowl, and then walks out of the room, leaving me with the question whirling in my mind.
What did he love more than anything?
His wealth? His power?
Or… Me?
I finish my meal, and wander through to the living room, needing something to occupy me for the evening—so I don’t go down that dangerous path wondering what Sebastian meant.
I find myself drawn to the piano, taking a seat on the bench. I haven’t played in a while, with everything that’s been going on, but just like usual, all it takes it me resting my fingers on the keys to feel suddenly centered again. More like myself.
You can’t lie to an instrument. There’s no betraying wood and ivory.
Taking a deep breath, I start playing without even thinking about it. The first notes of “Both Sides Now” fill the air and it’s not long before I’m softly singing the words, letting myself wallow in the melancholy emotions that wash over me. The music sweeps me away, and as the final notes ring out, I open my eyes again. Somehow, I’m not surprised to find Sebastian watching me, leaning in the doorway, his expression inscrutable.
I feel that ache in my chest again.
This isn’t the first time he’s watched me singing at the piano. I remember the first time, when we’d only just met. I was sure of everything back then. I had a plan.
Now, I know there’s no planning when it comes to this man. No logic, or rational thought.
And I can tell, he feels the same.
“What was that song?” he asks quietly.
“Joni Mitchell.” I reply. “It’s about how you can never really know what love means.”
“Romantic.” Sebastian’s lip curls, sarcastic, but I shrug.
“I think it is. Knowing that the one you love can hurt you but loving them all the same.”
It’s not until the words leave me mouth that I realize I could be describing the two of us. I look away, blushing, but Sebastian slowly moves closer, until he’s standing at my side. He rests a hand on my shoulder, sweeping my hair back, and I tense.
He pauses. “Are you scared of me?”
I glance up at him and feel the spike of adrenalin kick through my veins. “Yes,” I admit, even though the truth isn’t quite so simple.
I’m not just scared of him, but what I’ll do with him. Even now, after everything, the touch of his hand on my body makes me ache.
Wanting more.
Sebastian arches an eyebrow, still looking down at me, where I’m seated on the piano stool. “Funny. I should be the one who’s scared. You schemed and planned my destruction. You fooled me.”
Is that pain I see in his eyes? Or just hatred and desire?
“You deserved it.” I reply.
Sebastian gives a bitter laugh at that. “Yes, I did. And you came to make me pay for my sins. An angel of justice.”
“Or the devil you’ve been running from,” I reply.
His lips twist in a sad, aching smile. “Maybe we died in the crash, after all,” he muses, his voice almost a whisper. His hand trails over my shoulder again, caressing the bare slope of my neck, making me shiver. “To be stuck here with you, in this torment… Hating you. Wanting you. Maybe this really is hell.”
Yes.
Relief crashes through me, that he understands exactly how I feel.
Relief—and desire.
Sebastian yanks me closer, and then his lips are on mine in a cold, punishing kiss. I moan against him to feel his mouth again, heat racing through my body as his hands grip my shoulders, and his tongue plunges deep, commanding me. Devouring me.
This is the madness I’ve been craving. The insanity that pulls me under in an instant, with no regard for the truth.
I arch up, eager to lose myself in him again. But too soon, he pulls away, leaving me gasping.
“Keep playing,” he orders me.
I swallow, my head spinning.
“Play for me,” he insists, moving to stand behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. “When you play… I can forgive you almost anything.”
I inhale in a rush. I don’t know what’s happening here, but the lust is beating through me, thick in my bloodstream. That dark, familiar sweetness that blots out all reason, and urges me to cross the line.