Halfway through the auction, Sebastian disappears into the hall with Lilith. Unable to focus on anything but where they might have gone, I fake a headache and tell Landon I’m heading back to my quarters for the night.
As the elevator approaches Sebastian’s floor, I’m tempted to stop the car and exit there, but doing so would cause unbearable torture. Because I know they’re together, and I can’t stand the thought of what they might be doing behind the emblem of that fancy lion guarding the entryway.
So imagine my shock when the elevator doors slide open on the ninth floor, and Lilith steps inside alone. Her sleek locks aren’t so sleek anymore, and though she hides it well, her eyes hint at the threat of tears. Casting a glance my way, she reaches for the eleventh floor button, and her fingers halt as she realizes it’s already lit.
“Looks like we’re headed to the same place,” she says, standing back with a lift of her chin.
“It appears so.”
“I guess things didn’t go well with my brother?” She gives me the side-eye. “Since he’d rather marry your lady.”
She has no idea we share the same blood. I wonder if her attitude toward me would change if she knew. Considering which floor she just left, I assume the truth wouldn’t make a difference—not with whatever history she shares with Sebastian standing in the way.
It kills me that I know nothing about it.
“Elise’s happiness is all that matters,” I say, keeping my voice level as endless speculations plague my mind. A muted ding announces our arrival on the eleventh floor. I gesture for her to exit first before following her through the entrance and into the main sitting room.
She makes a beeline for the bar and pours a double shot. “Would the queen of the tower like one?”
“No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” She throws back the clear alcohol—vodka, I’m guessing—and winces from the burn. “Enjoy my suite of rooms while you can.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your quarters. They’re nice, aren’t they?” Bitterness sets her mouth askew. “They used to be mine.”
“I wondered why Landon had the space renovated.” It’s a catty comeback, but I can’t seem to rein in my testiness around this woman.
Letting out a dark laugh, she sets the empty shot glass on the bar with an obvious thunk. “Well, I’m going to retire to my guest room. It was lovely to meet you.”
“You as well.”
If insincerity were an ice-breaker, we’d be the best of friends by now.
She disappears from sight, the quiet click of a door echoing through the semi-dark space, and I glance at the double doors leading to the elevator.
Two floors.
That’s all that separates me from the man who can give me answers. The one man I designed this dress for, and he couldn’t be bothered to notice me wearing it at the ball. During dinner, he only glanced my way once, and after Lilith showed up…to say the evening didn’t go as I’d hoped is an understatement.
I want my dance.
Determination drives my ivory Valentino pumps into action, and I arrive on Sebastian’s floor with a fear of rejection coiling my throat. This time, I ring the doorbell, paying heed to the hard lesson I learned about breaking into houses late at night.
He answers wearing dress pants, mussed hair, and a scowl to put the history of scowling to shame. Faint pink lines mark his bare chest like cat scratches.
Or the manicured hands of a woman.
“I didn’t get my dance.”
With a tilt of his head, he grabs my hand and pulls me inside. We reach his great room, and he brings me flush with his warm chest. The silk tulle of my dress caresses my legs like butter—an exquisite texture against my skin that’s only heightened by his nearness.
It’s too good to be true.
This unresisting closeness. The absence of our usual push and pull. The lack of snide banter that serves as an aphrodisiac. Disquiet rolls off him in waves as he holds me.
Because this isn’t dancing. This is an embrace between two lovers. A raw emotional connection between two people who need each other.
“Who is she to you?” My voice is breathless enough to count as a whisper.
His harsh sigh is the only clue he heard me. “Someone I thought I was done with.”
It’s agonizing honesty, and for once I wish he’d lied.
“Do you love her?”
He pulls back, his bright blue gaze dominating mine. “Does it matter?”
I swallow hard. “Why wouldn’t it matter?” But I know. Deep down, the reason blazes through my soul, leaving behind a graveyard of ash. His words confirm it.
“Because we can’t be together.”
This is it. The reason for his hatred. The demon driving his contempt for the Brotherhood and its institution.
Not because it’s a sick and wrong practice.
Not because he’s an advocate for right versus wrong.
No, it’s because he’s in love with someone tradition says he can’t have.
Instead, he’s supposed to marry me…and he hates me for it.
Blind pain floods my vision as I stumble from the warmth of his arms. Why does this hurt so much? Sebastian Stone is callous and cold and cruel…and he doesn’t deserve me.
But I want him to.
“What am I to you?”
“Innocent, Novalee. That’s what you are.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you want me to say?” He spreads his arms wide. “You have no choice but to marry me. Nothing else matters.”
I shake my head, sending two salty drops trailing down my cheeks. “It’s the other way around. You’re forced to marry me.”
“Like I said…” He closes the distance and palms my cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear. “The mechanics don’t mean shit. It doesn’t change anything.”
Gripping his wrist, I push him away. “I don’t want to marry someone who hates me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“But you love her.”
“And you have a thing for the chancellor. Do you not realize what knowing that does to me?”
“I didn’t know you cared.”
“Jesus. You should have. The shit going through your mind right now about Lilith? Turn it around, princess. Then maybe you’ll see what I’m talking about. You’re not the only one screwed up in the head over this.”
“You and me…” I look at him through my tears. “We’re a destructive combination.”
“There isn’t much we can do about it.”
“Yes, there is.” I straighten my spine. “Landon needs to pick someone else to win.”
Sebastian scowls. “You want the chancellor.”
“This isn’t about Liam.”
“The hell it’s not.”
“It’s about you.”
“Me?” he says, his voice a deep, accusing gruff. “Am I not good enough for you, princess?”
“I want someone who wants me back.”
“You think I don’t?”
“I think your heart and dick are two separate entities that can’t agree on anything.”
He lowers his attention to my chest and the expanse of skin there, and his aqua eyes deepen. “My dick wants to use that dress for what it was designed for.”
He’s dangling subject-changing bait, and I can’t help but take it. “As the designer, I’ll need an example.”
“Two slides of that material, and I’d have your tits in my hands. Have you ever had a man’s cock between them?”
I gasp, indignant. “I put my heart and soul into this dress, and that’s all you have to say about it?”
“I’m a man with eyes, princess, and a cock that aches for you to the point of distraction.” His voice rises, sending me into retreat mode, but he follows with a predatory gait. “I want to invade every part of you.”
He wants my virginity—on both counts. But that’s all he wants, and the reminder renews the searing ache in my chest.
“So I get your cock, but she gets your heart?”
“It’s not a total loss,” he says with a sneer. “You get Liam’s. Everybody fucking wins.”
“We’re done here.” I whirl, intending to make my escape through the door, but his hand stops me, electric fingers gripping my arm.
“We’ll never be done, princess.”
I glare at him over my shoulder and toss his words from over a week ago into his face. “I got what I came for.”
Confirmation.
Heartache.
And the need to have a talk with my brother about my future.