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Sebastian meets my eyes, and I wonder if I catch a glimpse of understanding there. Then the shutters slam down again, and he gives a shrug.
“It was a long time ago. Ancient history.”
“And now you’re continuing his legacy,” I add, with another encouraging smile. “I’m sure he would be very proud of you, to see everything you’ve achieved.”
Sebastian gives a sharp, bitter-sounding laugh. “No, he wouldn’t.”
He tosses back the rest of his champagne and gets to his feet. “Dance with me,” he commands, holding out his hand.
I blink, startled. “I… But there isn’t any music.”
Sebastian takes out his phone and taps a few times. Music suddenly plays all around us from hidden speakers, embedded in the stone.
“Dance with me,” he repeats, stone-faced, and I know there’s no refusing him.
I get to my feet, and slowly walk over to join him. He takes one of my hands in his, and places his other on the small of my back, drawing me closer like the old-fashioned musicals I used to watch on TV.
I inhale a shaky breath. This is the closest I’ve ever been to him, our bodies touching, with my eyes just level with his chest. He moves quietly, with surprising grace. Or maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Sebastian Wolfe never does anything badly.
“You’re tense,” he remarks in a low voice, and his breath whispers, hot against my forehead.
“Can you blame me?” I shoot back without thinking, then curse myself. I’m supposed to be flustered and innocent, not full of rage for the man.
But Sebastian just chuckles. “Relax,” he says, and suddenly spins me out, then back into his arms. This time, I stumble into them, even closer than before. I can feel his chest pressed against me, the low pump of his heart. The vein in his neck beating softly, inches away.
I could lunge for a steak knife, and slash his throat wide open, right here. Drive it between his ribs and into his heart. I know the place--
“What are you thinking?” Sebastian’s voice breaks my blood-soaked fantasies.
“Nothing,” I blurt. “Just… this is nice.”
Nice.
Only a fool would believe I could go from spitting mad to swooning in the space of an hour, but maybe Sebastian is just a man, because he settles his arms around me, bringing one to trace slow circles on the bare nape of my neck.
His touch shivers through me.
I want to recoil, but I force myself not to move. I just stay there, swaying in the iron circle of his embrace, as his fingertips brush over my shoulders… my neck… the tops of my arms….
My skin prickles. My whole body tightens.
I pull away. “What do you want from me—really?” I blurt, my cheeks flushing. “You brought me here; I’ve agreed to stay the month. At least be honest with me.”
Sebastian looks down at me, his face shadowed in the moonlight. “I told you, I like to win,” he replies cryptically. “I’m bored, I thought you’d be a diverting amusement, but now…”
“Now?” I echo with a gulp.
“Now, I suspect you’re more interesting than you seem.” Sebastian’s eyes burn into me.
I give a nervous laugh. “I’m really not,” I say quickly.
“On the contrary, Miss Carmichael,” Sebastian tilts his head, assessing. “I read people rather well. It’s what makes me unbeatable at poker. And you? You have yet to show your hand.”
“What makes you think I’ll show it to you?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
Sebastian steps back, smiling. “And there it is,” he says, sounding satisfied. “The kitten has some claws.”
“I’m not a kitten,” I roll my eyes.
