Chapter 10

Sebastain

I sit in my office, leaning back in my chair, the city skyline sprawling out in front of me through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The room is quiet, but my thoughts are anything but calm. My fingers drum against the polished wood of my desk as I replay yesterday's events in my mind.

I can’t help but smile, a small, almost triumphant curve of my lips.

My plan is falling together perfectly.

It’s almost laughable how easy it was to get Christopher out of the picture, at least temporarily.

One strategic phone call to a friend—a perfect fake investor—a perfectly timed opportunity dangled in front of him like bait, and he was gone.

Off to New York, chasing what he thinks is the deal of a lifetime.

“Fool,” I mutter to myself.

But my thoughts drift from Christopher almost immediately.

Yesterday.

Elizabeth.

My God, I can still feel the taste of her lips on mine, the gentleness of her touch, and the way her breath hitched when I pulled her close.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to shake the memory. *Stop it, Sebastian. You cannot fall for her. She’s just another chess piece in this game, a means to an end.

But no matter how much I try to convince myself, the memory of her haunts me.

I saw something in her yesterday.

Something raw, unguarded. She’s vulnerable, yes, but she’s also strong in a way that draws me in.

I can already feel her letting me in, brick by brick dismantling the walls she’s built. She's going to trust me soon; I can feel it. That’s why it stings that she’s been avoiding me all day.

I check my watch. Enough waiting. If she won’t come to me, I’ll go to her.

Standing, I grab my jacket and shrug it on, the fabric settling perfectly over my shoulders. With determined strides, I head down the hall to her office.

The door is slightly ajar, and I pause for a moment, watching her. She’s seated at her desk, her head bent over some paperwork, her posture tense. Her hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, and for a moment, I let myself admire her.

She's beautiful, and she doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of my war with Christopher.

I knock lightly, pushing the door open. Her head snaps up, and I can see the tension ripple through her as she realises it’s me.

“Are you avoiding me, Elizabeth?” I ask, stepping inside and closing the door behind me.

Her eyes dart away, and she quickly straightens in her chair.

“Why would I be?” She replies, her voice sharp and defensive.

I arch a brow, taking a step closer. “You tell me. Did I do something wrong?”

She stands abruptly, crossing the room to lock the door. The click of the lock echoes in the small space, and I feel a flicker of satisfaction.

She doesn’t want anyone walking in on us.

“You haven’t done anything, Sebastian,” she says quickly, her tone clipped. “I’m just busy today.”

“Busy avoiding me, it seems,” I say, watching her closely.

She tries to sidestep past me, but I reach out, my fingers lightly brushing her hand. She freezes, and I take the opportunity to gently pull her closer.

“Elizabeth,” I say softly, my voice low and steady. “Talk to me.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I see a storm brewing there—fear, anger, guilt, and something else. Something she’s trying to hide.

“I mean, after yesterday." I begin, but she cuts me off, pulling her hand away.

“After yesterday, what?” She snaps, her tone sharper now.

I step back, surprised by her sudden shift. “I thought we were getting closer,” I admit, keeping my voice calm. “What happened?”

Her laugh is bitter, her arms crossing protectively over her chest.

“What do you want me to say, Sebastian? I’m a married woman. Yesterday, Christopher reminded me exactly what will happen if I ever betray him.”

The way she says it makes my stomach twist. “What did he do?” I ask, my voice hardening. “Did he hurt you again?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head, but her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “But even when he’s not here, he finds ways to torment me. He took Edward. My son is with his grandmother.”

My jaw tightens as anger flares within me. This was not part of my plan. I did not anticipate this. I have known Christopher to be a controlling bastard, but this? Taking her son to punish her? That’s low, even for him.

“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth,” I say sincerely. “You don’t deserve this. You and Edward don’t deserve this.”

She doesn’t respond, her gaze dropping to the floor.

I take a step closer, closing the distance between us. “Elizabeth,” I say softly, “you don’t have to go through this alone. Let me help you.”

Before she can protest, I wrap my arms around her waist. She stiffens at first, but then her body softens, leaning into me. I hold her tightly, trying to convey through my embrace what words cannot.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper, my voice firm. “Everything will be okay. I promise.”

She lets out a shaky breath, and I pull back slightly, just enough to look at her. Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world falls away. I forget why I am in her office.

Her lips are so close, so inviting. My resolve begins to crumble. I shouldn’t. I can’t. But I want to.

I start slowly pulling her towards me with me. She stumbles slightly, her hands gripping my shoulders for balance. The movement presses her body against mine, and I feel a rush of heat course through me.

Her breath is uneven, her lips parting slightly. I can see the conflict in her eyes, but I can also see the—desire.

"Sebastian,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

I lean in, giving her a chance to stop me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she closes the distance, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that’s soft at first but gets hungrier.

The taste of her is intoxicating, sweeter than I remember. My hands slide to her waist, pulling her even closer, and she responds eagerly, her fingers tangling in my hair.

I kiss her slowly, savouring every second, every sigh that escapes her lips. Her body moulds against mine, and I lose myself in her, forgetting for a moment the game I’m playing, the plan I’m executing.

But then her hands clutch at my shirt, pulling me even closer, and I feel my restraint slipping. My hands move to her thighs, lifting her onto the desk.

She gasps against my mouth, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist.

Her hands trail down my chest, her touch igniting something primal within me.

I press against her, my lips leaving hers to trail along her jawline, her neck. She tilts her head back, giving me access, her breaths coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Sebastian,” she whispers, her voice laced with both desire and doubt. “What are we doing?”

I pause, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed, and she’s never looked more beautiful.

“We’re doing what you want,” I say softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “What *we* want.”

Her lips quirk into a small smile, and I feel my chest tighten. For the first time, I see her smile—not forced or polite, but genuine.

But then reality creeps back in. This isn’t the time or place. As much as I want her, I can’t let this moment happen here, not like this.

I step back, gently helping her off the desk. She wobbles slightly, still catching her breath, and I steady her with my hands.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this here,” I say, my voice husky.

She nods, brushing her hair back and avoiding my gaze.

As I turn to leave, I pause at the door, glancing back at her. “Dinner, tonight?” I ask.

She looks at me, her expression guarded but softening. “Dinner,” she says after a moment.

I smile, feeling a rush of satisfaction. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

I close the door behind me, walking back to my office with a sense of triumph.

Victory. Finally.