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Both men turn to look at us now with very different expressions on their faces.
Dobbs looks like he’s witnessing a pair of aliens disembarking from a space craft, especially when his gaze lands on Curtis. I’m guessing he doesn’t have children.
Initially, Sebastian looks relieved that I’m still here. And on the heels of that, he rakes my body with wolfish cobalt eyes, a muscle jumping in his cheek. Making me feel decidedly naked in my post-shower outfit—a lightweight dove gray dress with buttons down the front, the hem stopping a few inches above my knees. I’ve dried out my saddle shoes from last night and put them on in preparation for going into Harding. This is the only article of clothing I could grab when fleeing last night, stuffing it into my bag and only because it happened to be hang-drying near the back window at the time. Poor Curtis is still wearing the same clothes.
I’m looking forward to changing that, even if I am daunted by the thought of returning to town after leaving in such a state of peril last night.
As if he can read my mind, Sebastian strides forward, breathtaking in a black button-down shirt and black dress pants. His hands lifts and cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over the bow of my bottom lip. “There is nothing to worry about, Chloe.”
Am I being hypnotized?
Looking into those intense blue eyes, my body seeming to pulse from head to toe, all I can do is nod. Attempt to swallow. “This is my brother, Curtis,” I murmur. “Curtis, this is Mr. Spears. This is his house.”
Curtis holds out his free hand for a shake. “Hello, sir.”
“Hello,” Sebastian says, amused, shaking my brother’s hand. “Very nice to meet you, Curtis. We’ll drop the sir and you’ll call me Sebastian. How does that sound?”
“Good…” Curtis says warily. And my heart constricts because three-year-olds shouldn’t have to be so suspicious. Unfortunately, my brother’s experience with men has been limited to the ones who pound drunkenly on our apartment door every night, trying to break it down.
“I thought we would drive into town to collect your things and get some breakfast,” Sebastian asks Curtis. “How does that sound to you?”
My brother shifts side to side in his worn-out sneakers. “I don’t know.” He looks up at me, a wrinkle between his little eyebrows. “Are the men there?”
“Not at this time of day,” I whisper, forcing a smile. “Not like that.”
Curtis relaxes. “Okay.”
I return my attention to Sebastian to find his eyes have gone cold, a vein ticking in his temple. “It’s too bad they won’t be there. I’d love to speak with them.” He clears his throat hard. “Dobbs, have the car brought around in twenty minutes.”
The other man takes a hesitant step forward, a piece of his graying hair falling over the rim of his glasses. “Are you sure, sir? You haven’t gone out in—”
“I’m sure,” Sebastian growls, sending the man jogging from the room.
* * *
Sebastian
As it happens, I’m…not entirely sure about leaving the house.
It’s been a long time since I’ve done so and the idea of venturing beyond the stone walls causes an ominous roiling in my stomach. But it calms when I look at Chloe. So that’s what I do. I stare at her like an utter maniac, soaking up her goodness and light, hoping it can pervade the darkest parts of me. And she seems to sense my disquiet, a gentle frown marring the place between her brows.
“Curtis,” she says, patting her brother on the shoulder. “Go make you bed and brush your teeth, okay? Hurry back when you’re done.”
He slumps, but when he receives a stern look from his sister, he sighs. “’Kay!”
Off he runs, leaving me alone with Chloe in the study.
“Is everything all right?” she asks me.
No, little girl. My dick is pulsing for you in that thin gray dress that molds your tits just right and I’d like to ride you bareback on the floor. That’s what I’d like to say. If for no other reason than to distract her from my obvious nervousness about leaving the house. But I’ve forfeited my right to speak to her in such a crass manner, haven’t I? Yes. She’ll hear none of that filth from me until I’ve regained the trust I lost last night.
Unfortunately, I think regaining Chloe’s trust might mean…being honest.
As in, when she asks me if everything is all right, I can’t just lie and say yes.
For one, she’s smart and she’ll know I’m not being authentic.
And two…I find the idea of revealing a small part of myself to her only slightly terrifying.
A vast difference from how I normally feel about sharing my innermost thoughts. It’s a no trespassing zone, much like the grounds of this mansion.
Just not with Chloe.
She’s the exception to the rule. To all of them, it seems. Here I am housing a child and preparing to travel into town for the first time in five years.
