A/N: So, you guys ready for some more? Book One doesn't seem to have an epic amount of chapters. It's actually only until Chapter Eleven but if you've been reading, you know the chapters are pretty substantial. This was designed to be a real book so I grouped the scenes that way. I'm hoping that if I finish dishing out Book One, you'll want Book Two but I have to decide whether I should merge them. They started out as one book and then it felt too long so.. Anyway! 

This chapter is pretty... Hot. At least around the end. But don't skip the rest of it! I hope you're old and mature enough to be reading this. Now, I really think the Restricted rating is appropriate.

Let me know what you think, okay? VOTE and COMMENT! You guys have been great! :)

***

I woke up with a heavy head, puffy eyes and a grim disposition.

The bruise-colored sky outside didn’t help either. 

Glumly, I washed my face and put a cold compress on my eyes for a few minutes before padding down to the kitchen in my nightdress and long cardigan.

I stopped by the doorway when I realized someone was already cooking in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sebastian greeted softly with a small smile as he looked up from the egg mixture he was beating. “French toast, bacon, eggs and coffee sound okay?”

Flustered, I glanced around the kitchen, wondering if Bart was going to materialize all of a sudden to announce that he was making breakfast and Sebastian had just poked his nose in.

When nothing happened, I blinked and cleared my throat, nodding briefly at Sebastian. “That’d be great, thanks.”

I had been awake for hours already and spent the early morning tossing and turning in my bed, wondering if I’d find myself all on my own today. He did say he was leaving.

If he was making me breakfast before saying goodbye, I was certain I’d throw the scrambled eggs in his face.

“Here, sit down.” He rounded the prep table and pulled out one of the low-backed high stool for me. He pushed it in after I sat down and went back to the egg batter he was making. 

I watched him silently as he dipped some sliced bread into the batter and laid them flat on the griddle behind him where the bacon was already cooking.

He was in his usual linen pants, chocolate brown this time, and a white shirt. His hair was still long and messy but he’d shaved the beard off. 

He poured us each a cup of coffee and asked me how much cream and sugar I wanted with mine. 

“So it looks like there’s a low pressure sticking around for the rest of the day,” he said conversationally before getting back up again to flip the french toast. “It’s rare for it to be not sunny around here in the summer but it’s a day for staying in.”

I took an experimental sip of my coffee. “Don’t tell me the weather’s what’s keeping you from your plans.”

He glanced at me, his expression clouding over briefly before he sighed and sat back down again. “My plans have changed.”

I did my damned best to keep a steady hand on my cup of coffee but I lowered it anyway before I could pour it all over me. 

I didn’t dare look up into his eyes but I managed a stiff nod. “Oh. That’s good.”

“If I was going to leave, I sure as hell won’t torture myself further by having breakfast with you first,” he said in almost a grumble.

I smiled for the first time since yesterday afternoon, finally meeting his annoyed gaze. “I was starting to wonder whether you were just fattening me up for the slaughter.”

His face broke into a crooked grin. “No. I’m just planning on fattening you up. Period. You are way too skinny.”

He proceeded to fill me a plate of french toast, bacon and some of the scrambled egg before serving himself. 

I took a bite of the french toast which I’d topped with some icing sugar and maple syrup and moaned a little in satisfaction. “I had no idea you could cook.”

“I know enough to manage on my own,” he said, watching me over the rim of his coffee cup. “This is hardly a feast, you know?”

I grinned and popped a piece of bacon into my mouth. “It was prepared for me. That alone makes it a feast so thank you.”

“Do you do most of the cooking at your house then?” he asked.

“If I want to eat, I have to,” I answered truthfully. “Timothy’s schedule is unpredictable and he barely eats at home. He’s always either drinking or stuffing himself at some nice, swanky restaurant or bar.”

“Was there no other family at all who could take you in? Pendley isn’t exactly guardian material.”

“My father died when I was just a baby and my mother never really told me much about him except that he was a good man and husband. I don’t know a lot about him and I certainly haven’t met any of his family. No one from his side came to see me after my Mom died so I’m not even sure if they know about me. I didn’t mind at all as my aunt and uncle had been good and generous to me. It’s only Timothy who’s been hard to deal with.”

“He must have made your life hell if you’d opted to stay here in the mercy of complete strangers,” he commented, his tone with a slight edge. “I’m assuming you want to get out as soon as you’re eighteen.”

My shoulders sagged. “That was the plan when I thought I could still go to college. Without the money, I now have to wait and see if I got accepted into any of the privately funded scholarship foundations I applied to. If that fails, I’ll have no choice but to work some kind of full-time job and take on a lighter school load. It takes so much longer to finish and I’ll most likely get my nose quite deep into student loans but I’d rather go through all that than stay a moment longer in the same house as Timothy.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his face serious. “I meant what I said last night about giving you everything you can possibly want. College, your own place, your own—”

“Sebastian, stop,” I interrupted rudely, my cheeks flushing. “You are under no obligation to provide me anything at all. I also refuse to take payment for what we may have between—”

“I’m not paying you to whore for me, Cassandra,” he cut in icily as if I’d deeply offended him. “I have more money than I know what to do with. Spending it on you to get you away from Pendley is no sacrifice.”

I winced slightly at the blunt term he used but I understood his motivation.

I shook my head, sighing heavily. “Don’t, please. I’m confident I’ll manage on my own. It won’t be as comfortable as I’d hoped but it’s nothing different from what an average college student goes through. I assure you, nothing will stop me from getting away from Timothy.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” he asked, without heat this time.

I absently stirred the surface of my coffee with the tip of my forefinger before sucking it into my mouth with a small, wet pop.

“I’ve lived most of my life on the charity of others,” I answered. “My mother was a struggling music teacher and we could barely afford anything beyond the basic necessities. Friends and neighbors helped us out a lot. Then when she got sick, our landlady helped looking after me, feeding me leftovers and passing me hand-me-downs from her own daughter. When she realized she was dying, she moved back to Bluefield where her family could help us out. When Mom died, my aunt and uncle took me in and although they were kind to me, I did not once forget I was a burden to them.”

I looked up to him with a faint smile. “I want to stop being indebted to others for once in my life. Relying on you for my comfort is hardly the way I plan to start my attempt at independence.”

He shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with accepting a little bit of help when you need it.”

My smile broadened as I raised a brow at him. “Do you see yourself taking your own advice, Sebastian? I have strong evidence proving you don’t like turning to others for help either.”

He looked away, caught. “Not really.”

“Pride is a savage affliction,” I said softly. “Some people would rather bleed dry before they’d admit they’ll die without help. There’s very little that separates integrity from pure idiocy.”

Sebastian watched me for a long moment, his green eyes enigmatic as he took a long, slow sip of his own coffee. “Your old soul amazes and grieves me, Cassandra.”

I chuckled. “Why?”

“Because on one side, you’re a young woman wiser than most. On another, you’re a child robbed of a chance to be blissfully ignorant of the pains of the world.”

My laughter died and silence ensued.

Somehow, that quiet, brief statement left me strangely bereft—as if I had met this child and saw all that was cheated of her.

Trust Sebastian Vice to drag you in front of a mirror and point out just how unfortunate you are no matter how hard you try to avoid catching your reflection. But then again, I might be doing the same to him.

“So, have you decided on what you’ll pursue in college?” he asked after a stretch of silence. He was willing to let me off and I wasn’t going to argue.

“Something in finance, probably,” I said. “Numbers and I agree. Also there could be lots of money in it too.”

“But is that what you really want?”

I scrunched up my nose in thought, my cheeks warming slightly. “Well, I have other interests but I don’t think I’d land a lucrative job pursuing them.”

“Big things start with small ideas,” he advised in actual seriousness. “Don’t dismiss it just because it seems far-fetched at the moment. So, tell me. What do you really want?”

I grinned. “My own bookstore. A quaint and cozy one with a vintage vibe. And there’ll be a gourmet bake shop with a glass display of decadent cakes and cookies and coffee that go perfectly with a good book. And there’ll be an outdoor patio in the summer afternoons with a local musician playing his guitar or his piano. And in the winter there’ll be a fireplace and an intimate reading area around it, filled with plush sheets and warm rugs. Oh, and I want a beautiful, lavish garden outside of it with trimmed hedges, flower beds and stone paths—like an English garden!”

I burst out laughing at his incredulous look.

“It sounds more than just a quaint and cozy little bookstore. It sounds like nirvana. I don’t know if all of it is practical but it has potential.”

A giddy streak of excitement sprung inside me as I looked at him with widened eyes and a shy grin. “You think so?”

He nodded, unable to suppress a boyish grin himself.

I was delighted. “You’re probably right that it’s not all practical—I wasn’t thinking of it from a business perspective. I was just thinking of all the things my favorite place in the world would have.”

“A creative idea can be converted into a business model. The first important step is to get inspired,” he assured me, much to my surprise. He was infamously ruthless and rigid in business—pondering on a girl’s whimsical idea hardly seem to support that reputation.

Before I could think of it further, I placed a hand on top of his own, leaned forward, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He pulled his hand out and slipped it over mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

With a faint flush on his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes, he smiled and sipped his coffee.

***

The rest of the day had been miserable—dreary, cold and steadily raining.

But for the first time in the many weeks since I’ve come to Cove Manor, things felt... right. 

Whatever had happened last night, despite Sebastian’s declaration to walk away from me, brought about a completely unexpected change—one I couldn’t trust completely yet but one that gave me hope.

Neither of us brought it up—probably both worried about the fragile condition of our new understanding. I was perfectly content with that.

After breakfast, we retreated into the library and spent the day reading. I left to make us some lunch while he took a long call from work. He joined me in the covered patio for a late lunch followed by some tea and little honey cakes I’d made the day before. 

Later in the afternoon the rain slowed to a light mist and we ventured out in gum boots to check for any damages on the flower garden I’d been looking after all summer.

I was just tipping a small pot over to drain some of the water that had pooled on the surface when a single, dark pink gerber daisy was held out to me.

I looked up and locked gazes with Sebastian who had a half-smile on his face.

I put the pot down and slowly reached for the flower.

Unlike other girls, I had always been partial to daisies instead of roses or other more elegant flowers. I’ve never said it out loud and something strange and disquieting strummed across my heart to know that Sebastian had picked it out among all of the flowers in the garden.

I fought a blush in vain as I lowered my eyes and gently brushed the petals against the tip of my nose. “Thank you. No boy’s ever given me flowers before. Not even this guy I dated for a little bit.”

His eye narrowed slightly. “Most of the men in your life seem to take you for granted.”

I shrugged, smiling a little. “Nah. The others did what they could do for me out of charity. Kyle, the guy I dated, just wasn’t the flowers-type of guy.”

“Did you think I was?” Sebastian asked in a dry, amused tone.

I grinned. “Not at all and that’s why it means more to me.”

His mood lightened back up again and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “It reminds me of you—sturdy, bright and playful.”

I arched a brow. “Sturdy? I don’t know if that’s something—”

“You’re strong and resilient,” he interrupted, smiling. “You don’t fall apart at the slightest adversity. You stand tall, face down the world with a smile and continue to blossom beautifully.”

I closed my mouth and blinked a couple of times.

Well, he certainly expounded on that not-so-obvious compliment.

Clutching the flower in one hand, I grasped the sleeves of Sebastian’s rain jacket and raised myself on my toes, pressing my lips against his.

One arm circled behind my waist and another pressed against my back as he returned the kiss, his lips teasing mine to open so he could deepen it further.

I don’t know how long we went on kissing but we probably wouldn’t have stopped if heavier raindrops didn’t start sprinkling down on us.

We pulled away, blinking through the rain and grinning silly before he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the house.

We discarded our rain jackets and boots and shook ourselves dry by the covered patio. 

A bit chilled from our trek out in the rain, we readied some hot water for tea while planning out a simple dinner of some salad and panini sandwiches.

Warm in dry, fresh clothes, we cuddled in the library with our tea, the daisy he gave me standing in a slim, crystal vase.

“There’s a poem Francis Thompson wrote called Daisy,” he murmured as he flipped open one of the hardbound books sitting on a stack on the coffee table. “It struck me as purely whimsical but when I met you, it made perfect sense. Want to hear it?”

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

He found the page and pulled me close to him as he started to read.

“Where the thistle lifts a purple crown

Six foot out of the turf,

And the harebell shakes on the windy hill—

O breath of the distant surf!

The hills that look over on the South,

And southward dreams the sea;

And with the sea-breeze hand in hand

Came innocence and she.

Where ‘mid the gorse the raspberry

Red for the gatherer springs;

Two children did we stray and talk

Wise, idle, childish things.

She listened with big-lipped surprise,

Breast-deep ‘mid flower and spine:

Her skin was like grape whose veins

Run snow instead of wine.

She knew not those sweet words she spake,

Nor knew her own sweet way;

But there’s never a bird, so sweet a song

Thronged in whose throat all day.

Oh, there were flowers in Storrington

On the turf and on the spray;

But the sweetest flower on Sussex hills

Was the Daisy-flower that day!

Her beauty smoothed earth’s furrowed face.

She gave me tokens three:

A look, a word of her winsome mouth,

And a wild raspberry.

A berry red, a guileless look,

A still word, —strings of sand!

And yet they made my wild, wild heart

Fly down to her little hand.”

Sebastian paused, glancing at me, smiling. He leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips before continuing with the poem.

“For standing artless as the air,

And candid as the skies,

She took the berries with her hand,

And the love with her sweet eyes.

The fairest things have fleetest end,

Their scent survives their close:

But the rose’s scent is bitterness

To him that loved the rose.

She looked a little wistfully,

Then went her sunshine way—

The sea’s eye had a mist on it,

And the leaves fell from that day.

She went her unremembering way,

She went and left in me

The pang of all the partings gone,

And partings yet to be.”

His hand found mine and squeezed it, his voice catching a little as he read on.

“She left me marveling why my soul

Was sad that she was glad;

At all the sadness in the sweet,

The sweetness in the sad.

Still, still I seemed to see her, still

Look up with soft replies,

And take the berries with her hand,

And the love with her lovely eyes.

Nothing begins, and nothing ends,

That is not paid with moan,

For we are born in other’s pain,

And perish in our own.”

I looked up to him, my own voice breaking as I said his name.

“He lost her,” I said quietly.

He put the book away, nodding gravely as he pulled me over his lap, his arms tightening around me.

“He did,” he murmured, pressing his lips by my ear. “Something I don’t intend to happen with you.”

There was an intimacy that neither of us denied but other than the random, sudden bursts of them when we couldn’t help ourselves like that kiss out in the rain and this promise-filled embrace in the library, we approached it cautiously and slowly.

We enjoyed a nice, quiet dinner with some wine and conversation before I coaxed Sebastian into watching a movie.

The way he raised his brows said everything he felt about such a mundane, cheesy activity, but he let me drag him down to the basement home theater. There were about five tiered rows of seats designed to accommodate about thirty people or so. At the very front was a large and snug leather couch and that’s where we sat. The room was equipped to the hilt with the best home theater technology but since I insisted on foregoing the fancy movie-house effects, we rolled up the completely opaque mechanized blinds to let in a view of the ocean from this side of the house. The basement level had been partly sunken into the foundations but one side of it was perched on a dip in the cliffside landscape and allowed a view into the room.

I picked out a spy thriller and then we proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes trying to figure out how to operate the damned projector. This was the problem with too much money sometimes—you have so many people do everything for you, you hardly ever need to learn how to do anything on your own.

Insistent that he was really good with gadgets, Sebastian shooed me off to get two steaming mugs of hot chocolate from the kitchen. I wasn’t inclined to believe him but the movie was playing by the time I got back and he was standing there with the biggest self-satisfied smile I’ve ever seen on him, like a boy who won a gold star on the best science project.

I rolled my eyes and laughed before joining him on the couch.

The AC was set real low in the room and since we didn’t even have the slightest clue where to find the panel for it, we decided to suffer.

“Remind me to get one of the staff to give me a tour of my own house so I know where things are and how they work,” he grumbled, poking at the panels under our seat as if looking for something. “I swear there were blankets in here.”

“Aha!” Sebastian pulled out a neatly folded, gray cashmere wrap from the hollowed out arm rest on his side of the couch where a hidden panel had popped open after Sebastian fiddled with it.

He shook it loose and wrapped it around his back.

“Come here.” He reached out and hooked an arm around my waist before pulling me close against him. He swept one end of the wrap around my shoulder and over my lap.

“You know the movie’s been on about twenty minutes now and so far I haven’t got a clue yet as to what’s happening in it,” I murmured with a quick laugh as I reached for my mug of hot choco and secretly relished the warmth and safety of Sebastian’s arm around me.

“I told you it wasn’t very interesting,” he said as he took a sip from his own mug. He winced. “I wish you’d listened and spiked this with some rum.”

I stuck my tongue at him. “I say this break up between you and liquor is long overdue. I hope you’re not getting back together.”

He smirked. “Alcohol’s my pal, not my mistress. Misery loves company, you know?”

“Then maybe you should strive to be less miserable so you’d need alcohol less,” I quipped although the glance I cast him was quite meaningful. “Alcohol doesn’t make things better. They just make you temporarily think that it can until you’ve had so much you end up feeling worse than when you started and the problem not any less difficult.”

He arched a brow at me curiously. “And how would you know that? I don’t think Pendley would’ve shared such an inspiring epiphany.”

“He didn’t,” I said with a light shrug. “I discovered it all on my own.”

Sebastian clumsily set down the mug on the side table. “You got drunk.”

It wasn’t a question.

I allowed a small smile. “I think every teenager has tried and succeeded at least once during their rebellious years.

“But you are not rebellious. And you’re not like every teenager,” he stated as a matter-of-factly. 

“Touché.”

He absently ran his fingers up and down my arm, his touch still warm even under the wrap. “I thought you said you never strayed from the straight and narrow.”

My smile disappeared. “Not usually—just that one time.”

“Was it a party? Or a dare?”

I pulled up my legs and tucked them under me. “When my aunt and uncle died.”

Sebastian stilled beside me. “Oh.”

“I was fifteen, still bumbling through an awkward transition,” I continued, unsure why I didn’t feel the usual thick, painful band of emotions that normally constricted me whenever I talked about my aunt and uncle’s death in detail. “The girls in school were getting prettier and growing on all the right parts and I wasn’t catching up fast enough. I was too bookish and didn’t have many friends. I was lonely and miserable. My aunt held a small bowling party for my fifteenth birthday and only five people came but she and my uncle were very supportive. Two weeks later, they suddenly died in a car crash. The only family and friends I had left were gone. I felt like whatever stability I’ve rebuilt after my mother’s death just got ripped out from under me. For once, I wanted to lash out, swim against the tide, just throw my hands up in the air in surrender—nothing was going right in my life and no matter what I did, it wasn’t going to change.”

“Timothy arrived in a few days and did not delay in stocking up the house. One night, while he was out gambling a week after we buried his parents, I hunted around the house and chugged down nearly an entire bottle of brandy that splashed with some other kind of sweet wine. It was disgusting as hell and I was so sick afterwards.”

I shuddered at the memory, paused and wondered if I could continue, and decided that I might as well be out with it now. 

“I was nearing something dangerous, I knew that. I crawled my way to the bathroom and forced myself to throw up on the tub. Then I passed out. The next thing I remember was Timothy’s face—angry and sweaty and red—and he was screaming at me. Then he was shoving his fingers into my throat and made me puke my guts out on the floor. I would’ve died of alcohol poisoning if he hadn’t arrived home at the right time.”

I looked up at Sebastian, saw the dark, intent expression on his face and smiled softly. “Despite his many sins, I owe Timothy that one act of kindness that saved my life. I don’t want to be anywhere near him but I don’t really wish him harm.”

He was silent for a long moment and I started to worry I’ve finally managed to disgust him. In a way, I had hoped that he would know the truth about me—that I wasn’t an angel or an innocent child. That like him, I was very much flawed, and that when I tell him I understood, often I did.

“Someone needs to take care of you,” he finally murmured, cupping the back of my head and pulling me close until his lips pressed against my forehead. “Let me, Cassandra. I’ll take good care of you.”

I closed my eyes, allowing myself a few moments to wonder and imagine what life would be like to have Sebastian take care of me. Oh, there’d be plenty of money, for sure. But that wouldn’t be as hard to deal with as being with Sebastian, his mercurial mood, his fierce possessiveness and the constant havoc he will cast upon my heart.

I’d never imagined too far ahead into the future before—not with boys I couldn’t picture myself with past high school. 

But a future with Sebastian was... well, highly improbable considering the huge gaps in our age and stations in life, and likely the kind that will change my life forever, for better or for worse.

Being young as I was, was I ready for that?

Having no real answer, I remained silent and instead turned to him, my head angling up to search his arresting face. 

He gave me a half-smile before leaning down to kiss me sweetly.

I could feel him stirring, could feel the tautness of his muscles as he tightened his arms around me. He was trying to master his self-control—to sweeten and gentle when he wanted to ravish and lay waste.

I was very tempted to break free of caution, pull him down and demand for everything but somewhere in the back of my head, I sensed that to force him to lose his fragile hold on control was to push him away and start all over again. He needed assurance that he could be around me like this without hurting me—without proving his every claim to darkness true.

His breathing was uneven when he finally pulled back and in his dark green eyes I could see just how much that had cost him. I fought the urge to grab him for another kiss and instead simply reached an unsteady hand out to brush the hair off his forehead.

“We should probably go to bed.”

I watched as his gaze glimmered and narrowed at my statement and I realized a second too late what it implied.

I laughed, my cheeks warming. “I meant sleep. Unless you have other suggestions.”

I left the statement hanging, casting him a sidelong glance uncertainly.

He took a deep breath, wincing slightly as if the effort hurt, and shook his head. “No, I have no other suggestions. Not ones I should make anyway. But you’re right. It’s getting late.”

I slowly unfurled from my position and slipped off the couch, holding my now half-empty mug. “Do you want to walk with me to my room?”

He didn’t move from the couch and looked up at me instead, his expression inscrutable. 

“Actually, I think I’ll stay down here for a little bit,” he finally said. “You go on ahead. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I hesitated but reminded myself. Patience, Cassie! Give him time and space.

“Okay. Goodnight, then.”

I leaned down to kiss him lightly on the cheek but just as I pulled away, he caught my chin and kissed me squarely on the mouth.

“Goodnight, Cassandra,” he murmured before letting me go. “Sweet dreams.”

I quietly left but paused for a moment by the door, catching one last glance of Sebastian Vice still sitting on the couch, his dark head still and inclined slightly to one side as if he was deep in thought while gazing out of the glass wall into the dark, starless night.

He sighed all of a sudden—a deep, gruff, hollow sound that sank into my heart like stone.

The need to run back to him and pull him into my arms flared inside me but I held back, my hand gripping the door jamb tightly.

Sebastian Vice was a man who lived in the constant shadows of his heart. If he was going to live in the light, he had to banish them and they only came out in the dark when he was most vulnerable. 

The only way to truly win was for him to fight alone and know that they’ve all been vanquished by his own hand, never to come to life ever again.

***

The next morning, I woke up early despite my fuzzy head and sniffles so I could beat Sebastian to the kitchen to make breakfast.

It was only quarter to seven but he was already there, sipping coffee and reading the morning paper.

He looked up at my entrance and smiled. 

With his dark, wavy hair and green eyes sparkling like leaves in the forest after a refreshing rain, a warm tingle went down along my spine.

“Oh, good. You’re already up. I’ve prepared the batter for waffles. Do you want them plain or with chocolate chips?”

I blinked, surprised once again, and glanced at the bowl of sticky, whitish lump sitting in a bowl covered with a plastic wrap. 

“Plain,”  I answered absently as he pulled out a stool for me and guided me by the shoulders to sit. 

He went to turn on the rotating electric griddle and went to grab a bottle of syrup, a plate of butter and a bowl of blueberries and sliced strawberries from the fridge.

“These are the last of the fruits. No blackberries,” he said as he set them down on the table. “I couldn’t find any more in the pantry.”

“I’m going to the farmer’s market this morning, around eight.” I watched, distracted, as he took out a tall cup and started making my coffee exactly the way I liked it. He’d only done it once and he remembered. You’d think a man like Sebastian Vice had more important things to remember.

“Good morning,” he greeted huskily with a sexy half-smile as he handed me my cup and pressed a soft kiss on my lips. 

I couldn’t help but smile back, my cheeks suffusing with some heat. “Good morning. And thank you for making breakfast again but you’ve got to give me my turn tomorrow.”

“If you’re lucky,” he said, tossing his head back, his eyes mischievous. “I like making breakfast for us.”

Warmth washed all over me now at his mention of us as if we were a unit—combined forces, inseparable two parts of a whole.

And really, Sebastian didn’t need to be fussing in the kitchen to become more irresistible than he already was.

“It doesn’t hurt to take turns,” I said as I took a sip of my coffee and found it perfect. “Besides, you stayed up much later than I did last night. I thought you’d sleep in.”

He shrugged. “I barely do. I don’t sleep much, remember?”

Of course I remembered. 

For a man who had all the luxuries the world could offer, he only slept as he needed which was often minimal.

My brows gathered into a frown. “I thought you spent half your time getting drunk and the other half sleeping away the day in the entire week you’d shut yourself in your bedroom. Since you don’t sleep much and the alcohol ran out, what in the world did you do?”

“Moped around a little bit,” he said, his expression turning a little somber. “When there’s no alcohol to cloud reality, everything becomes so glaringly clear and since I couldn’t sleep it off or drink it away, I was forced to think of things I’d rather not.”

I watched and waited as he got up and fetched us each a waffle and poured another batch in.

I spread some butter over mine before drizzling it with some syrup and topping it with the berries. 

“Were you thinking of Alfred?” I ventured, risking a glance at him to see how he’d react.

He visibly tensed, his shoulders sagging slightly after a second or two of indecision.

“Most of what I know in life, he’d taught me,” Sebastian quietly said, staring off into space, absently picking at his food. “The good things anyway. Without him, I don’t know what kind of man I’d be today. Probably ten times worse than who I am now.”

I inwardly winced at his dry, harsh scoff as if ridiculing his irony. “Since we can’t really see what lay ahead of another path without backing up and taking a different turn, we can never know for certain. Other people can definitely influence us but I think most of the time, we make up our own mind. You’re who you are today because you chose it. Don’t think that you’re merely an aberration from your true nature because others happened to stumble along.”

Sebastian’s eyes lingered on me before softening with the passing seconds. “I’m touched by your faith in me, sweet, but you don’t have the slightest idea of my true nature—of the monstrosity a man like me is capable of.”

“Then tell me.”

He fell silent, staring at his food with a furrow in his brows. 

In a small fraction of time, I saw the hesitation flicker across his face before it hardened into bitter resignation. “It’s not a story worth retelling, Cassandra. What’s important is that it’s a nature I’ve learned to tame. It won’t be making an appearance anytime soon.”

I resisted the urge to keep prodding.

I was irritated at this constant torture Sebastian inflicted on himself for some kind of unpardonable crime he’s convinced he’s guilty of. I wanted to know what it was so I could explain to him that many of what we blame ourselves for were often simple circumstances beyond our control. I wanted to change his mind about himself—to finally persuade him that this monster he seemed to think himself as was nothing but imagined.

But I suspected he had years of belief layered over this self-persecution and that they weren’t going to come apart with one impatient demand from me. 

It was going to take time to chip away from it and I wouldn’t be able to do that if I sent him running from the pressure.

When it became obvious he wasn’t going to say more on the subject, I put down my coffee and reached out to touch his hand. “Either way, I think Alfred would still be proud of you, Sebastian.”

He snorted. “I doubt it. I didn’t turn out perfect after all.”

I smiled. “No, you stayed human and I think he’d be pleased about that most of all. “

He smiled back, the self-derision fading away from his face. He lifted my hand and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. “Can I come with you to the farmer’s market?”

“Uh, are you sure?” I asked with a surprised arch of my brows. “It’ll be crowded and messy and noisy and—”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured me as he heartily went back to his breakfast. “Alfred once told me that a successful businessman understands people. In my usual routine, the only people I ever run into are employees and other players in the industry. It’s my rare chance at surrounding myself with people who will pay no mind to me and go on as they would with their lives.”

“Alright,” I said with a smirk. “You’ve convinced me this is all for the sake of market research.”

He flashed me a lopsided smile. “Well, that and also so that I can keep you out of trouble.”

I rolled my eyes although I couldn’t help but smile back. “I barely ever get to trouble.”

“True but when you do, it’s real big trouble,” he retorted with a mischievous wink. “Now, finish your breakfast and let’s get going.”

Half an hour later, Sebastian and I were cruising down the driveway in the most conspicuous car we could find in the garage—a sleek, silver Aston Martin convertible. 

It was a bit absurd but with Sebastian’s laughter floating in the air, my hair blowing behind me with the wind and the glorious sun shining down on us, I couldn’t complain.

The market was a crush, as it usually was, the crowd a good mix of the area’s middle class and Seaside’s elite or their household staff.

Sebastian parked a block away and although I hesitated about leaving the car vulnerable to itchy car thief hands, Sebastian just shrugged and hauled me away.

Armed with two reusable shopping bags, I resigned myself to fate and went on to buy fresh vegetables and fruits, with Sebastian looming behind me, happy to let me pick and choose and stay out of my way.

Not once did I forget he was there though.

For one, all the women were glancing at him sideways and smiling flirtatiously. They may not know he was ridiculously rich and powerful but his tall built and austere yet seductive face were enough to attract female attention from everywhere.

I secretly thrilled in the dismissive nods he dispensed to all of them, making it plain he was not interested, and the proprietary arm he settled around my waist every now and then while his other one held the shopping bags.

He was also prompt at buying us overpriced lemonade and sandwiches, asking me for cash when he realized they didn’t take credit cards. 

“There are numbers on these, like a filing code or something” he commented as I handed him two five-dollar bills. He raised it to the light and studied the small scribble on the corner. “I didn’t realize Jennison marked my money. I don’t know why he hopes to keep track of it.”

I sighed. “He isn’t because they’re not your money. They’re my money. I number them for my budget book and so that if Timothy finds them and steals some, I have some means of proving they’re mine.”

He lowered the bills and stared at me. “That’s a painstaking process.”

I shrugged. “Not if I only have a handful of them. I used to get my weekly allowance but with Timothy quickly digging himself deeper into debt, I’ve gotten them with less frequency. I had to be frugal and smart about hanging on to what I could.”

“How much do you have?”

I blushed at his intent gaze. “A little over a hundred fifty since the last farmer’s market. But at the rate we’re going today with all these food and drinks we’re buying, it’d be another fifty bucks before we’re done here.”

He blinked in astonishment. “Jennison didn’t give you money? How could he have left you to manage the household without a bud—”

“He did leave me a credit card but no one takes them here, remember?” I interrupted with a sigh. “I didn’t really want to call him and ask for cash and since I’m eating my meals there too, I thought I’d pay for some of the food.”

He muttered a curse and handed me back my cash. “Come on, Cassandra. Let’s go to the bank right now and get this over with. I can’t believe you’ve been paying for our food all week.”

“Not all week—Sebastian, wait, where are you going?” I demanded when he actually turned around and started walking back to the car. “You’re not seriously going to the bank now, are you? It’s eight thirty on a Saturday morning. I doubt that they’re open.”

“They’ll open for me,” he answered instantly and I knew for a fact that he was right. They’d probably open twenty-four-seven all year if it meant business with Sebastian Vice.

“Now, don’t be silly,” I said gently, reaching a hand out to rub his arm in an attempt to soothe the ruffled feathers of a stubborn and deeply offended boy he was very much like in this moment. “It’s just a little bit of cash. It’s just for the produce. We’ll go to the supermarket afterwards and then we can spend your money there for the rest of the groceries.”

“But you can’t spend any more of your money,” he argued adamantly. “You don’t have enough of it.”

I paused, looking at him with wide eyes. “Yes, I’m poor but I can still buy food. I know I don’t have much but there’s enough to feed you and me. Allow me the dignity of that at the very least.”

I bit my lower lip in an admirable attempt not to suddenly burst into tears. For some reason, his comment had cut deep. I didn’t have much to offer in the way of material things, true, but what I had I could give if I chose to, little it may be, even if it’s to someone who had possibly everything money could buy.

“God dammit, Cassandra, I didn’t mean it that way,” he muttered under his breath before marching back to me and pulling me tightly into his arms. 

We were in the middle of a busy farmer’s market and some people were staring but I didn’t care as I burrowed my face deeper against his hard, solid chest. 

“We’ll finish up here and then we’ll get the rest of the groceries,” he murmured to me, his breath warm against my hair. “Then when we get home I’ll make arrangements for you to be reimbursed and given cash for some of the household spending.”

“There’s no need to give me my money back,” I told him as I tilted my head up to look at his face. “Consider it my contribution.”

“You’ve been a great help in the household and you looked after me. That’s more than enough contribution if you ask me,” he replied with a small smile.

I raised a brow. “If that’s how you run your business, Mr. Vice, then I’m bewildered by how you’ve made money.” 

He laughed. “Oh, trust me. I’m only lenient like this with you.”

I scrunched up my nose. “I still don’t like it.”

“I know, sweet,” he said as he reached up and brushed a lock of hair off my forehead. “If you don’t want to accept cold hard cash, let me pay you back in books. I know you’ve been unhappy with the limited selection of romance novels in my library.”

I paused and considered it. “Can we buy used ones? That way I get more for my money?”

He glanced heavenwards and sighed. “If that is your wish. You’ll have to figure out where we can go though. I don’t know of any used book places.”

“Dover’s has an excellent second-hand book section!” I clapped my hands excitedly. 

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed instantly. “This isn’t an excuse to see that college boy of yours, is it?”

My cheeks warmed. “No, of course not. Ty isn’t my anything. I’ve told you many times that we’re just good friends.”

“I didn’t realize good friends kissed the way you two did by the gate,” he retorted darkly, his arms tightening around me. “I’m not a generous man to begin with, Cassandra, but I’m especially more selfish when it comes to you. If I see that boy salivating all over you again, I will beat him to a bloody pulp.”

A shiver ran down my spine at the cold, brutal steel in Sebastian’s threat. He meant every word of it and although his possessiveness thrilled me, it scared me as well. 

I gazed into his deep green eyes and saw the glint of danger and irritation there but when he quickly looked away from me, I spied the fleeting flash of hurt and uncertainty and my heart swelled.

“That night, I just wanted to see if anybody else made me feel like you did, Sebastian,” I said softly, reaching up to trace my fingertips along his slightly rough jaw. “I’ll tell you, it was...pleasant.”

His brows arched in confusion. “Pleasant? So you enjoyed it? So you—”

“Pleasant is kissing I’d happily miss out on,” I interjected with a slight grin, pressing my fingertips against his mouth. “I couldn't care less for pleasant kissing.”

When his brows knit in further confusion, I moved my fingers away from his mouth and let them lightly graze his bottom lip and the slight indentation on his chin. “I like your kissing better—rough, wicked, climactic. Your kissing strips me of logic and any sense of time or place. Your kissing makes me think of crackling electricity and rumpled sheets. Your kissing—”

“Enough,” was Sebastian’s low growl as he bent down and kissed me in a few quick, hungry strokes. I could feel his arousal pressed hard and hot against my belly, barely restrained behind the thin layers of fabric that separated us. “If you don’t stop now, I’m going to strip you of more than just your sense of time or place and I won’t care if it’s here and now.”

“Get a room, you two,” a pimply and lanky teenage boy snickered at us as he and two of his buddies walked past with a smug, knowing look on their faces. 

My face burned with embarrassment when I finally realized we were starting to form a small avid audience staring openly with interest. 

Suddenly, I was alarmed that someone would finally recognize Sebastian because the last thing I wanted was for us to be fodder for gossip. 

He grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the end of the block where our car was parked. To my relief, it was exactly as we left it with the exception of a few people who stood gawking at it.

We did a quick stop at the local grocery for a few more things before driving back to the house.

I had just set down the grocery bags on the kitchen prep table when Sebastian’s hands suddenly gripped me by the waist and lifted me around and up on the counter, the cold, stainless steel pressing into my thighs exposed by my denim cut-offs.

His mouth locked in with mine and I held nothing back as he pressed me down on the counter and halfway climbed on top of me.

I was burning up too much to notice the cold against my back and arms and this same fevered desire reflected vividly in Sebastian’s searing green eyes as he pulled back to gaze at me.

“You really shouldn’t say things like that to me in public, Cassandra,” he groaned, closing his eyes and pulling at his hair with a shaking hand as if that would cure him of his raging lust. “You had me hard as a rock in the last half hour.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “That must’ve been uncomfortable.”

He opened his eyes and they were bright with laughter even through the glaze of leftover lust. “You have no idea how difficult it is to keep my hands off you. I’m breaking records with my self-control every second I spend with you.”

“Would it really be that wrong, Sebastian?”

His expression faltered as he reached up to trail his fingers down my thigh. “Touching you is one of the very few things in my life that feels right but the world has rules, Cassandra. While I never cared for them before, I find that I do when it comes to you because you deserve it.”

“I’m not so fragile, I’ll break,” I told him quietly, capturing his fingers with mine. 

He smiled faintly. “I’m a savage beast, Cassandra. I’m capable of destroying you no matter how strong you are.”

I pulled myself up to a sitting position and wrapped my arms around his neck, the tip of my nose grazing his chin. “Someday, we’ll have to trust that I’m stronger than you think and that you’re gentler than you give yourself credit for.”

Before he could further argue with me, I kissed him with the tenderness he often insisted evaded him when I could feel it in his every touch, even when he was at the grips of his powerful desires.

“Will you at least hold me?” I asked with a smile after we broke away from each other.

He grinned and scooped me up in his arms. “As long as you want me to.”

He carried me to his bedroom, climbing in after me and wrapping me in his arms as we both waited for either contentment or sleep, whichever came first. 

***

Did you enjoy this chapter? Vote and comment!

I love poetry and that is reflected a lot in this book. I hope you fall in love with poetry too as I did a long time ago.  I always thought of Cassandra as a daisy and I think that Sebastian feels the same way too.

If you're an avid reader of this book, check out The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield which is a more quirky, happy romance I'm writing as well. Happy reading! :)

-Ninya

 ***