Petal’s POV The soft clinking of silverware and the gentle hum of voices around me faded into the background as Sebastian's words reached my ears. "Your mom is asking you to go downstairs, come, let’s go." His voice was smooth, almost commanding, yet it held a warmth that seemed to envelop me. I nodded, still trying to gather my thoughts from our earlier conversation, and followed him down the stairs. As we walked through the corridor, I was lost in the moment, thinking about how everything felt so surreal. I was still getting used to the idea of Sebastian being in our home, sitting with us, and acting like he belonged here. The only thing that brought me back to reality was a sudden, sharp bump to my head. It wasn’t a wall, as I initially thought, but rather Sebastian’s broad back. He had abruptly stopped walking, causing me to crash into him. My breath caught in my throat, and I quickly took a step back, trying to regain my composure. Sebastian turned to face me, his expression u
The Weight of His Presence I turned around to see who it was, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Sebastian standing there, his dark, piercing eyes locked onto mine. His presence filled the room effortlessly, making it feel smaller and more suffocating. I couldn’t meet his gaze for long, not after what had happened earlier in my room. My cheeks burned at the memory, and I quickly turned back to the sink, pretending to focus on the dishes. But before I could fully regain my composure, I felt a firm grip on my forearms. His touch was strong yet controlled, his long fingers wrapping around me with a possessive hold. He stopped me in my tracks, leaving no room for escape. “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice deep and husky, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. I shook my head quickly, refusing to meet his gaze. The thought of facing him, of confronting the intensity in his eyes, was too much to bear. “Look at me,” he said again, this time with a hint of impatience. Before
Petals pov I stood at the sink, scrubbing the last of the dinner plates. The sound of running water and the clink of dishes against one another were oddly soothing, a welcome distraction from my racing thoughts. Moments ago, Sebastian Knight had walked out of the kitchen, and I couldn’t deny the way his presence had affected me. My face was still warm, my cheeks betraying the flush I was desperately trying to suppress. I shook my head and told myself to calm down. “It’s just Sebastian,” I murmured, though the words felt hollow. There was nothing “just” about Sebastian Knight. After finishing the dishes, I dried my hands and headed to the living room, where my parents and Sebastian were engaged in a conversation. The soft hum of their voices filled the room as I walked in, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. I chose a seat beside my mother, directly across from Sebastian. He looked as composed as ever, lounging comfortably in the armchair as though he belonged there. At
Sebastian's pov Dinner that evening was a test of my self-control, and if I were being honest, I barely passed. When Penelope casually mentioned that Petal had made the cheese pasta, my first thought was gratitude. She always went out of her way to make sure I had fish, even if it meant cooking something else for herself. The gesture wasn’t new; she had done similar things before. But today, knowing she’d made something specifically for me made me want to kiss her hands, to hold them against my lips and thank her for every small thing she did. But I couldn’t. Not here, not now. Not when everyone else was around. Instead, I forced myself to utter a simple, “It’s delicious.” That was enough to earn a shy smile from her as she began to eat. Her reaction was innocent, unguarded, and so utterly Petal. As she lifted her spoon, her delicate fingers steady, her lips parted to take the first bite. My breath hitched. Those lips—soft, lush, and maddeningly perfect—were a constant distraction. W
petal's pov --- The shrill sound of my alarm jolted me awake, breaking through the serene silence of the early morning. With a groggy sigh, I rubbed my eyes and reached out to silence the persistent beeping. My room, bathed in the soft, golden hues of sunrise, felt warm and inviting. Reluctantly, I pushed off the covers and dragged myself to the bathroom, my footsteps soft against the wooden floor. After finishing my morning routine, I turned the faucet, letting the warm water cascade over me. The shower was refreshing, chasing away the remnants of sleep. Once I was done, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and stepped out, the mirror fogged up from the steam. I wiped it clean, revealing my reflection. Pulling open my wardrobe, I selected a simple yet comfortable outfit: a pastel blue top and a pair of black jeans. I styled my damp hair into a neat side braid, the strands soft and silky to the touch. Giving myself a quick once-over in the mirror, I grabbed my bag and headed downstai
Petal’s POV The soft rays of the morning sun filtered through my curtains, gently waking me up. I stretched lazily, feeling the warmth of the day already beginning to seep into the room. After a few moments of reluctance, I forced myself out of bed and shuffled to the cupboard. Pulling out a set of clothes—a simple yet elegant side-cut top paired with comfortable jeans—I headed to the bathroom. The cold water of the shower was refreshing, washing away the sleepiness and preparing me for the day ahead. I wrapped myself in a towel, dried off quickly, and slipped into my outfit. Tying my hair into a neat ponytail, I admired my reflection for a moment. Perfect for shopping, I thought. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I descended the stairs, the aroma of freshly made breakfast wafting through the air. My mom was already at the dining table, sipping her tea, and my dad was reading the newspaper. “Good morning,” I greeted, taking a seat and serving myself a plate of scrambled eggs and to
Sebastian’s POV The soft hum of my office air conditioner was the only sound accompanying me as I worked through the last few contracts of the day. The room was impeccably organized, as always—mahogany shelves lined with books, neatly stacked files on the desk, and my laptop glowing faintly under the warm lighting. After a quick lunch brought to me by my assistant, I leaned back in my leather chair, running a hand through my hair, already feeling the weight of another long day. The phone on my desk buzzed, breaking my brief respite. Without glancing at the caller ID, I picked it up. “Hello,” I said curtly. “Hello, boss,” came Tom’s voice on the other end. “Come to the point,” I replied, my tone firm and no-nonsense. “Boss, Miss is going shopping with her friend,” he informed me. I paused for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips as I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “Hmm. Alright,” I said calmly. “Don’t let her get hurt. Follow her, and make sure
Petal’s POV The morning sun streamed through my window as I stirred in bed, the fatigue from yesterday’s shopping trip still lingering in my body. I had slept earlier than usual the previous night, worn out from walking through countless shops with my best friend, Samy. It felt like the pillows and blanket had conspired to keep me in bed longer today, and when I finally glanced at my clock, my eyes widened in horror. I’m late! Throwing off the covers, I scrambled to get ready, skipping the usual leisurely pace of my mornings. My dad, noticing my rush, decided to drop me off at the university to save time. “Eat something before you leave!” Mom called after me. “I will!” I replied hurriedly, grabbing a piece of toast and some juice as I dashed out the door. The car ride felt both too fast and too slow; I couldn’t shake the anxiety of being late for my first class. As we reached the university gates, I jumped out, thanking my dad quickly before rushing toward the English lecture hal
author's povBefore she could stop herself, her lips moved."I don’t love you," she said flatly, almost as if she was speaking to herself. The words slipped out, raw and honest, slicing the tense air between them.For a brief moment, there was silence. Sebastian's dark eyes narrowed, not in rage, but in something far heavier — a brewing storm he was trying desperately to control.He let out a low breath through his nose, clenching his jaw.“Soon, baby, soon you will also love me. Don't ever say this again," he said, his voice carrying a sharp warning beneath its softness. There was irritation in his tone, but it was laced with restraint. He was trying—really trying—not to let his temper loose on her, not now.He turned his face slightly, as if trying to calm the boiling emotions within him."Just because you are going to marry me," he continued, voice firm, "doesn't mean you will stay like this forever—scared and traumatized."His words were rough but held a strange kind of concern, a
author's povHe took the glass of water from the nightstand and brought it to her trembling lips. His hand, though bandaged and slightly shaking, was steady enough to hold the glass for her. "Okay, now stop stuttering and drink," he said gently, his voice low but firm.She nodded quickly, instinctively trying to reach for the glass, but he didn’t let go. Her hands were still shivering, so he tilted the glass himself. She drank obediently, gulping down the water like a lifeline. Her throat was parched, dry from crying and screaming, and the cold water soothed the burn in her chest. Once finished, he placed the glass back on the nightstand and shifted slightly away, leaving a respectful distance between them."Don’t be scared of me," he said, settling onto the edge of the bed. "I won’t do anything to you."She gave a slight nod. But then, as if remembering something crucial, she quickly added in a soft, broken voice, "Okay."He looked at her with faint amusement. The way she scrambled t
Author's POVAs soon as Petal saw Sebastian’s bleeding hand, she didn’t waste a second. Her instincts kicked in and she sprinted toward the bathroom, her bare feet padding softly against the cold floor. The moment she spotted the first aid kit tucked in the cabinet, she snatched it and returned with hurried steps, her breath catching as she knelt beside him. Despite everything—every scar he’d left on her heart—she began treating his wound with trembling hands, the smell of antiseptic stinging her nose.The silence between them was heavy, dense with unspoken pain. She didn’t dare look at him as she worked, but her voice broke through, soft and barely audible. “I don’t know why... I feel safe with you,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Even after all the dreams... even when I’m scared... this part of me knows I can trust you.”Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Guilt clung to him like a shadow. He didn’t deserve her trust. Not after what he’d done. He looked at her, a flicker of pain in
Author's pov"I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly, brushing her damp hair from her face. His thumb gently grazed her cheek as he stared at her pale features, twisted in pain even in unconsciousness. "Please... come back to me, Petal. Please."Her breathing hitched.The grip of the nightmare began to loosen its hold, like morning light slowly banishing a dark fog. Her eyelashes fluttered. Her lids, heavy and red from silent weeping in her sleep, lifted just enough to reveal a pair of hazy eyes. Disoriented. Lost. Her gaze didn't recognize the room, or even him.But instinct overrode confusion.Like a flower leaning toward the sun, she lunged forward. Her arms, trembling, wrapped around Sebastian tightly. She buried her face in his chest, her sobs muffled by his shirt, her entire body wracked with silent tremors. Though her mind was clouded, her soul seemed to remember him. Her body sought the safety, the warmth, the familiarity of his embrace.And Sebastian?He froze.Then he wrapped
Sebastian's povToday... I crossed every limit. I became what I hate. And I don’t even know how to undo it.The silence in the study was deafening. Shadows loomed in every corner, and the only sound that existed was the irregular rise and fall of his breathing, jagged and raw. Sebastian sat against the cold wall, his head tilted back as the pain pulsed through his bleeding knuckles. But it was nothing compared to the agony gnawing at his chest. The skin could heal. But the soul? The soul he had shattered—that was a different story.His hand throbbed where he had punched the wall in a rage, again and again, until his knuckles split open. Blood smeared the white paint, dripping down like the weight of his guilt. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked in sweat, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing except the girl he had pushed too far.Petal.He couldn’t even speak her name without feeling his throat tighten. His little flower. The only purity he had ever touched, and he h
Author’s POV The click of the lock echoed sharply in the silence of the study. He stood there, motionless for a second, then suddenly clenched his fists, stormed toward the wall, and smashed his knuckles into the hard surface. “FUCK YOU!” he shouted, the sound raw and broken, “You bastard! What have you done now?!” His fist slammed again, cracking the skin, blood trickling slowly from the fresh wounds. The sting of pain didn’t compare to the agony inside him. A tear slipped from his eye—not from the physical torment, but because he knew he had inflicted far worse pain on her. His little flower. His innocent, delicate Petal. He collapsed against the wall, sliding down until he hit the floor, his back pressed against the cold surface. He let out a bitter laugh that quickly morphed into a choked sob. His heart and mind screamed at him, battling violently within him, a storm that refused to calm. You almost raped her. You forced yourself onto her. You’re the monster she should’ve
Sebastian's POV"I will get you. I don't want any whores who want to be with me for my money," I said, smirking as my eyes locked onto her tear-filled ones. She was trembling, but not from the cold. From fear. From me."Please don't do this, I don't want to marry you," she whimpered, her voice cracking with desperation. Her pleas only fueled the fire raging inside me."You don't have a choice, my flower," I announced, voice sharp like a blade. She belonged to me. She always had. She just hadn't realized it yet."But you are..." she tried to argue, but her voice faltered.I tilted my head dangerously. "You are what? Complete the sentence, Petal," I said, my voice a low, lethal whisper.Silence. She just kept crying, her tiny fists clenching the fabric of her dress.My patience snapped like a brittle thread. "I said complete the fucking sentence!" I roared, slamming my fist against the headboard, making her flinch violently. Still, she said nothing.Fury overtook reason. I leaned forwar
Sebastian's POVI knew she would fight me. That’s what she always did—fight, scratch, run, scream. My Petal had fire in her. The kind of fire that makes men fall to their knees or burn alive. And yet, I stood there, fearless. Because I was the only one who knew how to hold that fire without getting scorched.“It’s OK if you don't want hot chocolate, let’s have a serious talk,” I said, my voice calm, but my grip on her wrist firm.The moment those words left my lips, her entire body turned tense. Her pupils widened, she began to squirm, struggling to get out of my hold. I knew her. I knew her next move before she even made it. As she lifted her knee, probably intending to hit me where the sun doesn’t shine, I caught her leg mid-air, stopping her before she even got close.I smirked.She should’ve known better.My body pressed against hers, pinning her down. Her heartbeat thundered against mine, wild and chaotic—just like her.“You’re sick,” she spat.“Maybe I am,” I whispered back with
Sebastian's POVI spanked her thirty times.Yes, thirty. Each strike had its purpose—not just for discipline, but to remind her where she belonged. My palm left a rosy imprint on her delicate skin, and with every slap, her resistance softened, only to rise again in the form of hot tears that trailed down her cheeks. She cried, her soft sobs echoing in the room, stabbing something deep inside me. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. She needed to understand.After the final one, I pulled her close and made her sit on my lap, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. She looked up at me, defiance blazing in those teary eyes. And then, she started yelling.Unbelievable.Her voice cracked from emotion, and her small fists hit my chest, as if that would change a damn thing. I caught her hands mid-air and held them tight.“You’re no one’s but mine,” I growled, voice low and firm, each word laced with a promise she would come to understand—sooner or later.She froze. Her chest rose and fell rap