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“And then I abandoned them all at the wedding. I’ve caused so much stress.” She looks up at me, eyes wide.
“Presley.” I touch her arm. “You did what you felt was right. It’s not like you even knew.”
“What if he’d had another heart attack? I can’t believe Mike didn’t tell me his father was sick.”
“Mike’sstepfather,” I correct automatically.
“Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Of course, he’s your father.”
It’s funny how my brain has latched on to clarifying their relationship and not on the fact that my father is unwell. I’ve been so focused on my goal of taking over the family company that I’m not allowing my brain any space to process what’s going on with my father’s health, and that’s not an accident. I can’t deal with that right now.
I don’t know how to deal with it.
“He was always nice to me,” she says, reaching for her drink. “He invited us around for barbeques and was helping us look for a house.”
“He’s a good man,” I say, forcing down the swell of emotion that threatens to drown me. I’m the one who wanted to talk, but we’ve veered into dangerous territory. I reach for my drink and knock it back, welcoming the brain-numbing and edge-smoothing qualities. “Hey, do you feel like dancing? There’s music upstairs.”
She nods, eyes a little glassy. Her care for my father is like a fist around my heart, but I don’t want to delve into it. I need to keep my eye on the prize. Take over the family business, move back to Melbourne, make sure my father is relieved of the pressure that’s hurting him, keep my grandfather’s legacy alive.
Do it all without flinching.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Presley
IFOLLOWSEBASTIANup the steps, my body swaying gently and my hand sliding along the railing. I can’t help looking at the thick gold band around my thumb with its blacker-than-night stone. Emotion courses through me, settling into a tangled knot in my gut. Mike’s stepfather had a heart attack before the wedding and no one told me.
Wasn’t I part of their family?
Not really. Mike kept me to himself, waiting as long as possible before introducing me and then saying things like “consider yourself lucky” when I asked why we didn’t see his parents more often. I’d wanted us to merge families, to have him be part of mine and me part of his. Family is the most important thing in my life and I’d been eager to have more of it.
We approach the top of the stairs and the music grows louder. I’m still carrying the remains of my drink, which tastes like the lovechild of cough syrup and lighter fuel. I’m being stubborn, continuing to drink it, but for some reason I feel that showing any kind of weakness now would be dangerous. I don’t know what Sebastian wants, but I’m not naive enough to assume it’s anything that will benefit me.
Still, he’s handsome and I’m broken, and the booze soothes my edges. He’s a welcome distraction from my problems and, while I know I’m flirting with danger, the truth of the matter is... I like it. Previous Presley wouldneverhave gone out with a guy the night after a breakup, let alone someone connected to her ex.
“This way.” Sebastian grabs my hand and leads me out onto a rooftop terrace.
It’s a luxurious garden in the sky. I look up and catch the thousand twinkling lights from the buildings around us—like an urban galaxy. Trees grow around the edges of the rooftop and lights are strung from wooden beams. The air is perfumed with something heady, maybe jasmine, from a flowering plant creeping up an exposed brick wall to our right. It grows around a pink neon sign that showers the area in rosy light. Beautiful people are everywhere, talking with heads bowed and mouths curved upward.
He tugs me forward and it’s like being pulled into the devil’s lair. There’s a glint in his dark eyes that stokes the fire low in my belly.
Don’t trust him.
I don’t and I won’t. I throw the rest of my drink back and place the empty glass on a high table as we weave through the rooftop garden, seeking out the dance floor tucked away in the corner. Before I know what’s happening, I’m entering the crush of writhing bodies, seeking out the hard planes of Sebastian’s chest with my hands. Hanging on for dear life.
God, he’s beautiful. I saw a picture of him as a young boy once and thought him good-looking in that coltish, all-limb way boys are. He had striking eyes and a strong presence, but the man version of Sebastian is on a whole other level. Sexy, thrilling. So,sohot.
He moves to the music, eyes locked on mine. Up here, surrounded by lights and the night sky and a crowded dance floor, I feel anonymous and free. Like I could do anything. Be anything.
I press my palms to his chest and the hard muscle beneath his shirt greets my touch. He’s still wearing his suede jacket but it hangs open, allowing me access. My breath hitches as I slide my hands up, totally and utterly aware that I should not be touching him.
I tilt my face up and my heart thuds at the dark hold his eyes have on me. I want him to swallow me whole. Maybe it’s because it’s the biggestfuck youI can possibly give Mike. Or maybe it’s animal attraction, plain and simple. He slides an arm around my waist, holding me loosely. And while he doesn’t draw me too close, the connection between us burns like wildfire. So I take the initiative, pressing in as though it’s the crowd’s fault. As though I’m being pushed. I wind my arms around his neck.
Don’t do this. You’re stirring up trouble.
Dammit, Iwanttrouble. I want to ignore the voice in my head for once and do the thing I know I shouldn’t for no other reason than because I bloody well feel like it.
Sebastian’s body is heaven—lean and hard and broad. My mind skips to fantasyland and I imagine sinking my nails into the soft cotton of his shirt and pulling until the fabric gives way.
