“Next time,” I say coolly, “don’t make decisions for me.”
I stomp away, sliding into the seat of the car. Thomas shuts the door.
Sebastian stands on the sidewalk, watching me like he just realized controlling me has a cost.
The café door swings open behind him, someone stepping out, but he doesn’t notice.
For the first time since we found each other, I don’t feel protected.
“Take me home, Thomas.”
44
SEBASTIAN
I stare blindly at the screen full of numbers I haven’t processed for the last ten minutes.
The office is quiet—clean, controlled, predictable. The kind of environment that usually settles my brain.
But right now, it doesn’t.
My pen taps once against the paper. Instead of the quarterly report in front of me, I see Ivy in the café. Her smile aimed at him, laughter floating in the air.
I see Aaron looking at her like he has the right to. His gaze was too familiar. Too comfortable.
I see the exact second Ivy’s laughter shifts in her throat when I walk in. Like her body recognized me before her eyes did.
And I see my steps eating the distance between us. Taking up space. Making the air change.
I don’t truly believe Aaron is a threat. Yet I asserted control anyway.
It was instinct,I tell myself.It was reasonable.
Considering my past, it makes sense why I reacted the way I did.
But the truth needles at me in the quiet like a splinter digging into my skin.
I didn’t just walk in and claim the room.
I claimed her.
My jaw tightens.
It was protection hiding insecurity.
My phone vibrates on the desk. I glance at the screen, freezing when I see Ivy’s name.
For half a second, something warm shifts low in my chest.
Then the warmth turns sharp—because I know this isn’t a cute check-in. She wouldn’t call me for nothing. She’d text. She’d send something teasing. Something unhinged and sweet.
I answer, my tone neutral. “Hey.”
Her voice is calm when it comes through the speaker. “Hi.”
No sweetness. No playful lilt. Just Ivy—contained and measured. Like she’s already taken her emotions apart and filed them neatly in drawers.
That’s worse than yelling.
