Sebastian’s right about the need for coats. The air is frigid as we walk the couple streets over to the Holiday market. He’s quiet, his gaze scanning the cars and people bustling about. Buttoning my wool coat all the way, I inhale deeply as we enter the market area. The scent of mulled spices hangs enticingly in the air. “Smells yummy, doesn’t it?” I say, my gaze scanning over the velvet red bows and bright holiday lights twinkling amongst the pine boughs framing each vendor’s booth front.
Sebastian walks up to the first booth selling mulled cider and buys a cup. “May as well benefit while you’re here,” he says, handing me the steaming drink.
I grasp the Styrofoam cup in both hands and let the warmth soak through my skin while I inhale the spiced aroma. “Thank you. You don’t want any?”
“I’ve already had my coffee for the day.”
He sounds so regimented, I snicker. “So you’re only allowed one?”
He glances down at me. “I want my hands free. Why is Christmas your favorite holiday?”
I try not to let his reminder that he’s working dampen my spirit. “Because it makes me think of renewal and new beginnings.” Taking a sip of the spicy cider, I turn and start to weave my way through the early morning shoppers. This close to Christmas, the place is buzzing.
Sebastian quickly follows. Just as he pulls up beside me, I say, “Look at that gorgeous wreath. I never thought non-traditional lights as Christmas-y, but with the other colored flowers, it’s breathtaking.”
He eyes the wreath skeptically. “How would you write an article about it, selling the non-traditional?”
I immediately open my mouth to start spouting off a description when it hits me that’s exactly what Sebastian asked me to do that day on the boat. He wanted me to put into words how I saw the sunset. That’s why his eyes were closed when I looked back at him after I finished describing it. He couldn’t see the colors and he wanted me to tell him so he could picture it in his mind’s eye. My chest aches. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have color completely stripped from my daily life. Gripping his arm, I pull him away from the crowd and closer to the wreath.
“Whoever thought purple could represent Christmas? It’s bright and brash and non-traditional, but pair sparkling purple lights, yellow-centered, lavender forget-me-nots, and clumps of airy baby’s breath together on a teal-tinged Blue Spruce wreath, and you’ll be reminded why purple is considered the color of royalty. The symbolic combination of flower choice and colors make this wreath the perfect Christmas decoration.”
Sebastian chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m sold. Maybe you should write all the marketing copy for BLACK Security.”
I snicker to cover how much his comment flatters me and continue on, winding my way past people until I run across a booth selling scarves in various shades and textures. Just as I start to run my fingers over a silky turquoise scarf because its shade reminds me of the color of Sebastian’s eyes in a passionate moment, he says quietly, “My mom loved Christmas. Even though we could only afford to get each other a couple of small gifts, she’d spend hours decorating that fake tree she dragged in from someone’s curb when I was little. Each year she’d hum Christmas tunes and hang every dumb ornament I was forced to make in school. Then I’d have to help her untangle the lights. I always hated it.”
“Why would you hate it? It sounds like a fun, happy time in your life.”
While he spoke about his mom, he was watching the people around us, but now he turns his gaze to me. “That damned massive tree only made my gifts look puny.”
He sounds so disgruntled, I shake my head. “It’s never the size that counts. I’m sure she treasured each gift.”
A brief smile tilts his lips, a far away memory reflected in his eyes. “She always made a big deal over whatever I got her. When I gave her a necklace with a fake sapphire, she acted like I’d given her the Hope diamond.” He shrugs off the past. “I just felt like it was never enough. That last year I couldn’t get her anything. Bills kept piling up. So I bought a ‘worry stone’ from a street vendor with my last few bucks. I was willing to do anything to take her mind off the pain.”
My heart aches for him, but I manage to keep my voice even. “Did it work?”
“Mom lied like a champ. Told me that my stone worked wonders.” He snorts and glances away. “But you know how her story ended. Needless to say, I don’t believe in fairytales.”
“And yet you still gave me a rainbow.” The fact that he had enough hope left in him to help me after what he’d gone through with his mom says a lot about Sebastian’s character, whether he realizes it or not.
When his gaze snaps back to me, full of heat, I shake my head and tsk. “Hope, Sebastian. You gave me hope.”
He touches my jaw, tracing his thumb from my lip down to my chin. “Now it’s your turn, Little Red.”
His comment could mean so many things. Is he asking me to say yes to a good sex romp? Or does he want me to give him true hope? All I know is, Mina’s plea for me to help her brother keeps echoing in my mind. I can at least focus on that. But how am I supposed to get him to open up in other ways if he refuses to share something as simple as not being able to see color? Looking over the scarves gives me an idea.
Clearing my throat, I ask him to hold my cup. Once he takes it, I pick up an emerald scarf and a bright yellow one, then push them in front of him. “Cass is so hard to buy for. Which color do you think would look best on her?”
Sebastian casually lowers his gaze to the scarves and rolls his shoulders. “Whichever one looks best with dark hair.”
Smooth. I smirk that he manages to maneuver around answering my question so easily. Then again he’s had a few years to perfect his responses. Maybe if I show him he’s not alone, that no one is perfect. “My roommate travels all over the world. So getting her something unique is a challenge.” As I lay the scarves down, I’m glad the vendor is busy with other customers. Picking up a pair of “Risky Business” style sunglasses, I set them on my nose. “And this is why the one outrageously expensive gift she brought me from Paris ended up on her face instead of mine.”
He grins when I tilt my head to make the glasses look straight on my face. “Yep.” I sigh as I set the glasses back on the table. “One ear is slightly higher than the other.”
Sliding his hands into his pants’ pockets, his voice is husky-low as he takes a step closer. “I prefer them one at a time, anyway.”
Excitement curls in my belly as the sensation of him biting my earlobe during a heated moment in the past rushes forth. Every time we’ve been together, the man never left a part of me unbranded in some form or fashion. How have I let him distract me from my current goal so easily? Mentally shaking myself, I start to pick up another two scarves, hoping to get him to share. But a loud popping sound has him dropping the cup and grabbing my waist as he shields me with his body.
My heart racing with worry, I peer up into his face, then around his shoulder when a three-year-old boy starts crying uncontrollably. I breathe a sigh of relief as his mother consoles him over the English Christmas Cracker he just set off by picking up the toy prize that fell along with the confetti to the ground. Sebastian grunts and moves to straighten, when a scratchy voice sounds beside us. “Perfect for some private time with the lady, yes?” The amused creases around the vendor’s dark eyes deepen as he unfurls a delicate black scarf over our heads.
Sebastian and I are nose to nose, and for some reason when he looks at the vendor through the gauzy material, he smiles, his first genuine one of the morning. Pulling the silky material off, he tells the man, “We’ll take it.”
Once he buys the scarf, Sebastian lowers the silk around my neck, one side of his mouth tilted in a seductive half-smile. “To memories.”
Is he reminiscing or asking to make new ones? “Thank you, Sebastian,” I say, too wound up to voice the question out loud.
Grasping the scarf’s ends, he glances down and loosely ties it around my neck, his movements turning swift and efficient. “We need to get back. I don’t like how exposed you are out here.”
How does he manage to arouse and exasperate me at the same time? It’s a talent the man excels at without even trying. I blow out a breath of frustration and nod. “I just need to get a couple of things and we’ll be own our way.”
After I pick out an organic perfume for my aunt, a pair of lapis drop earrings for Cass and an extra small silver bracelet with a tiny heart on it, Sebastian quickly escorts me out of the market, his demeanor all business. When we turn down the hotel’s street, he says, “I have something I need to do tomorrow afternoon that has been set for a while. Since you know my sister, I hope you don’t mind coming with me. That way I can still keep an eye on you. It’ll take no more than an hour.”
“You’re talking about Josi’s christening, right? Mina invited me too. The bracelet is a gift for Josi. I’ll be happy to come with you.” I keep my tone casual, even though I’m surprised Sebastian apparently hasn’t been told that I’m going to be Josi’s godmother.
He glances my way, his gaze guarded. “I didn’t realize you and my sister were that close.”
Since Mina hasn’t told him, maybe it’s best to honor her wishes and let her tell him at the church. “She invited me. Is that a problem?”
He shifts his attention to the hotel up ahead. “No.”
We arrive at the hotel with just enough time for me to drop off my purchases and head out for the signing. As I slip into the car Sebastian has waiting on the side of the building, I’m still no closer to figuring out how to get him to open up. If anything, as he gives orders to the driver to take us to the bookstore, it feels as if he has shuttered himself completely.
Three TV news vans are lined up outside the Westside Book Corner as we pull up. “Looks like you’re getting extra publicity today,” Sebastian says, his mouth setting in a firm line before he opens the door.
Inhaling a deep breath, I let him take my hand and escort me through the bookstore’s main door. News crews quickly follow us inside, and I do my best to ignore them bustling behind us with camera equipment as the store’s owner, Jameson Danvers, walks up to greet us.
Buttoning his tweed jacket, he grasps my hand and raises his bushy gray eyebrows behind black-framed glasses at the entourage that followed us in. “I can’t say I’m sad to see the extra publicity for your signing, Miss Lone.” Grinning, he pauses and briefly glances Sebastian’s way, “And you too, Mr. White.”
When Sebastian pulls his annoyed gaze from the news people to acknowledge the owner, Mr. Danvers’ attention pings between us. “Word of your double-signing has spread. After Miss Lone hit the New York Times, I had to order more books to accommodate the people who called at the last minute, hoping they could get a signed copy of Blindside today.”
Sebastian gives a quick nod, then says in a curt tone, “Excuse me for a minute.”
As he walks away, dialing his phone, Mr. Danvers chuckles. “A man of few words, I see.” Patting my hand, he continues, “Congratulations on hitting the list, Miss Lone. Blindside is a riveting book.”
“Thank you for hosting me, Mr. Danvers. I’m looking forward to a great signing.”
Turning to glance at the signing table sitting on a raised dais area in the center of the store, he says, “Your assistant arrived early, bringing the books I ordered at the last minute. She has everything ready for you.”
Kayla’s long, perfectly curled dark hair is pulled forward over her shoulders for maximum appeal, a striking contrast to her form-hugging electric blue dress. When she looks up from straightening a stack of books and waves, her generous breasts bouncing, I smile. I can’t fault her for being comic-book-character perfect. She made sure the extra books arrived and has been an excellent assistant so far. “I’ll have to make sure her boss knows what a great job she’s doing,” I say, nodding my agreement.
I wave to the huge crowd of readers lined up to the left of the dais and call out, “Are you ready to be Blindsided?” As they let out a near-deafening cheer, I grin and head toward the dais.
Just as I sit down, Sebastian moves to stand behind me, but Mr. Danvers pulls out the other chair for him. “Readers will want your signature too, Mr. White.”
When Sebastian looks at me, I chuckle and hand him a pen. “Your fans are waiting, Mr. White.”
The second he sits down and signs the first reader’s book, a sandy-haired reporter steps forward. “Mr. White. What made you decide to officially join the Blake family ranks six months ago? Jack Blake passed away over three years ago. Why the change of heart?”
Sebastian looks up, his blue gaze steely cold. “This event is a Blindside signing. Unless you’re here to interview Miss Lone about her book, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
While the other reporters lean in with their mics, their gazes greedy for a scoop, the first guy apparently doesn’t know the kind of man he’s dealing with or he would’ve heeded Sebastian’s warning. Instead, he steps to the side of the table, holding his mic closer. “Everyone’s speculating that you’re really Adam Blake’s son and not Jack’s. Care to comment?”
The readers were already buzzing at the interruption, but the reporter’s question sends an audible, collective gasp through the crowd, then they start tittering and whispering to each other.
Sebastian grabs the top of the mic and with one twist, breaks it off. “You’re done.” As soon as he stands to his impressive, towering height, the guy backs up a couple steps, his eyes wide as he stares at his damaged mic.
Nodding toward the doorway, Sebastian says to the three men in business suits who must’ve entered after I sat down, “Escort these uninvited guests out. They’re disturbing the event.”
Two of the tall men walk forward, their dark eyebrows pulled down as they start issuing commands for the news crews to leave. Then the third one, a blond man with linebacker shoulders, circles around the back, keeping any of the crew from trying to blend into the group of fans. Mr. Danvers looks anxiously at Sebastian. “My apologies, Mr. White. I thought they were here for the signing or I would’ve made them leave when they first pulled up this morning.”
“It’s fine, Mr. Danvers.” I wave dismissively to soothe the man’s obvious anxiety. “Mr. White takes his job very seriously.” I turn and beckon a tall, thin woman clutching her copy of Blindside forward. She’s standing on the bottom step of the dais, her eyes wide with both admiration and fear as she blinks at Sebastian behind chic glasses.
The second she sets her book in front of me, she pulls one of the chopsticks from her pinned up black hair and quickly uncaps it to reveal a pen at the same time she says in a hushed voice, “You weren’t exaggerating about his intensity, were you?”
I slide a sideways look Sebastian’s way. He’s back in his seat now and staring at me, one black eyebrow hiked high.
When he flashes a megawatt smile and the storminess disappears from his eyes as if he’s the most laidback person in the world, I snort and open the woman’s book to the right page. “Not one bit.”
“Are you Adam Blake’s illegitimate son? The public has a right to know who might be running Blake Industries one day,” a reporter screams around one of Sebastian’s men holding back the crowd while we get into the car. Sebastian slams the car door shut and tells the driver to take off.
He was fine through the rest of the signing, but once we walked outside to an even bigger crowd of reporters, I could tell by his stony expression that he was pissed.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I address his stoic profile.
His icy gaze snaps to me. “Do you want me to seduce you now or later?”
“You’re trying to sidetrack me.” I narrow my gaze and tilt my chin up. “It won’t work. Not this time—”
Before I complete my sentence, Sebastian leans over me, pushing me flat on my back. “Who says I’m not serious?” he says in a dangerously calm voice as he traces a finger from my jaw to my neck, then across the curve of my cleavage just above my blouse.
As soon as he touches the top button of my blouse, I grasp his hand. “Why is it so hard for you to share with me?”
He lets out a low arrogant laugh. “Sweetheart, I’ve been trying to share with you for days, but you haven’t been taking deposits.”
“Crudeness won’t work either,” I grit out and start to push his shoulders back.
He clasps my hands and presses them into the leather seat on either side of my head, his chest crushing mine as he says in an arousing rumble against my ear, “You like my dirty mouth, Little Red. Very, very much.”
My body instantly reacts to his amazing smell and body heat. I tingle all over at his suggestive words. “Share with me, Sebastian. Something. Anything,” I say against his jaw.
He squeezes my hands and presses his nose against my neck, inhaling deeply. A rumbling groan erupts from his throat before he lifts his head to stare into my eyes. “I can’t stop wanting you.”
The pain in his expression feels like a butcher knife twisting in my gut. “Do you want to?”
A quick head jerk. “No.”
“Then I don’t understand—”
“You asked me to tell you something. Are you ready?”
I nod quickly, wondering if his mercurial mood has to do with the reporters showing up and ambushing him.
Sebastian leans close once more and nips at my ear lobe. As my body tightens and heat rolls across my skin in waves of sheer want, he releases a slow, warm breath against my ear and says, “You’re moving to a different room when we get back.”
When he quickly straightens and pulls me upright with him, I jerk my hands free and scowl. Are these hot and cold tactics his way of distracting me from prying? “I’m not moving rooms,” I huff as I straighten my jacket and blouse.
“It’s not up for discussion,” he says gruffly, his gaze straying to my hands as I check to make sure my blouse is still buttoned.
“You’re right next door. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re moving,” he says in a final tone.
Crossing my arms, I glance out the window. So much for getting him to open up. Damn, he’s like Fort Knox. Why do I get the feeling the inside of his mind is just as dark as that closed-up, impenetrable vault? As the car turns, a bright ray of late afternoon sunlight shines directly in my eyes. I wince as a headache from lack of sleep begins to throb against my temples. Great. Just what I need. Midtown Central has set up a cocktail hour for their authors to mingle with librarians in the ballroom later tonight.
As Sebastian and I enter the hotel lobby, he stops off at the front desk. “I believe you have a package for me.” Once the employee hands him a manila envelope, she turns to me. “This was left for you earlier today, Miss Lone.” After handing me a white envelope, she walks off to help someone check in.
Sebastian takes the envelope from me before I get a chance to open it. I frown at him and hold my hand out. “That’s meant for me.”
“Were you expecting anything?”
“No, but—”
He opens it.
When his jaw clenches after he reads it, I ask, “What does it say?” and turn to read over his shoulder.
He pulls out his phone, scrolling for a number. “Nix the room change. We’re moving hotels.”
You didn’t listen.
That’s all the note says, but this time it feels even more threatening because it’s handwritten in black ink.
“I’m not moving, Sebastian.”
“This isn’t up for—”
“Discussion, debate, argument?” I wave my hand toward the letter. “Whoever this is knows I’m in and out of this hotel all week due to all the company events here. They don’t know that I’m staying here. I switched my reservation under the name Smith once I learned of the break-in. I’m fine.”
He lifts the letter to my nose, renewed determination settling in his expression. “It smells like your perfume, Talia. You’re moving. There are several hotels in the area.”
My stomach dips that he knows what my perfume smells like, but the concentrated scent makes my head hurt even more. I push the letter back and rub my temple. “There’s an event here tonight and my head is killing me. I need to try to sleep this off.”
Sebastian lifts me from the bed like I weigh nothing. My body melts against his hard frame while my woozy vision drifts in and out. As he carries me across the room toward the open doorway, I loop my arms loosely around his neck and tuck my head into his shoulder, drawing in his amazing smell. Closing my eyes, I imagine him pulling me closer to inhale against my hair too. “You always smell so good,” I mumble to dream Sebastian.
He chuckles and presses a kiss against my forehead. “I like your groggy honesty.”
A sudden chill rushes across my body, and I open my eyes. We’re walking into the elevator. I look up at him. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”
“No.”
I stiffen in his arms, remembering that I fell asleep while he talked to one of his men about retrieving the letter and having it dusted for prints. I didn’t argue when he insisted on keeping the door open between our rooms, because I found the resonance of his deep voice in the background comforting. “My suitcase.”
He presses a button and as we zip upward, says, “I’ll collect all your things. Tomorrow we move hotels.”
Maybe I should’ve only taken half a sleeping pill. I’m so tired that I can’t make my eyes stay open long enough to focus, let alone argue with him about switching anything, but at least my headache is gone. When he walks off the elevator, I sigh and drop my head back to his shoulder. The swaying movement of being carried only makes me want to sleep more, so I mumble, “Remind me when I wake up to rip you a new one.”
His arms tense around me slightly before he presses his jaw against my cheek, locking me against him. “I need you close, Talia.”
My lightheaded brain latches onto the emphasis in his comment, and I tighten my arms around his neck, content to let him hold me while I drift in and out of consciousness. “I need you close too,” I murmur, then finally let sleep pull me under.
I wake to a dark room, my heart racing. I was dreaming about that night I ran away. The night I killed Walt. The same night I met Sebastian and he gave me his jacket and watch, changing my world. In my dream, I’m teenage Talia, but this time I know what he will come to mean to me, and instead of pretending to punch in a fake code to an apartment building I don’t live in, I turn and call out, “Wait!” Then run back down the stairs after the BMW, screaming, “Promise you’ll never stop believing in rainbows!”
But the car keeps going, the red taillights fading in the distance.
I finally stop running and bend over, trying to catch my breath. Rain mixes with the tears on my cheeks as I whisper against the driving rain, “So we’ll have a chance, Blackie.”
As the dream fog fades and my eyes adjust to the tiny sliver of evening light coming from the closed drapes across the room, I blink. This isn’t my room. Then I remember that Sebastian moved me. The room is so big that the light from the window only penetrates part of it, leaving shadows along the edges and in the corners.
Evening? I quickly glance at the clock, relieved to see I have a couple hours before I need to be downstairs for the cocktail.
When my line of sight lands on the edge of my suitcase sitting on the floor at the end of the bed, I immediately push the covers back and gasp at the coolness that hits my skin. All I’m wearing is the camisole and underwear I had on under my clothes. Sebastian must’ve stripped me before putting me in bed. Glancing toward the closed door, which I can only assume leads to his adjoining room, I get up and quietly walk over to it. Even though I don’t hear anything, I push the button lock on the doorknob, and for good measure, I also close the flip-lock at the top of the door too before I turn to my suitcase and unzip the compartment where I keep Sebastian’s jacket neatly tucked inside.
Slipping it on, I lift the collar up and inhale the masculine leather scent. When flickering movement in my periphery draws my gaze to the gauzy curtains, I smile and walk over to the window to push them back away from the glass. Snow is falling heavily outside, and the sight of the fat white flakes fills my heart with peace. A torrential rain right now wouldn’t have soothed me, but quiet snowfall does the trick. I know I should be worried about that latest threatening note, but oddly I’m not. And that’s all due to Sebastian.
As I pull the cheap necklace Sebastian won for me at the fair in Martha’s Vineyard from the coat’s pocket and hook it around my neck, I question if it makes me a horrible person that a tiny part of me hopes this threat stuff continues beyond this week. It’s the only way I know for sure that Sebastian will stick around. The protector in him would never leave if he thought I wasn’t safe. That’s one thing I can always guarantee with him.
Glancing around, I see the best chair for snow-gazing in a tall wingback near the desk. I quickly drag the chair over to the window, then stand behind it, sliding it to the left, then the right until I get it settled in the best spot.
Just as I mumble, “Perfect,” Sebastian’s deep voice sounds directly behind me.
“It’s mine, isn’t it?”