SASHA’S POV
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sebastian pace back and forth, his jaw clenched and his movements sharp. His father’s words from earlier hung in the air like a storm cloud, thick and oppressive.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, breaking the silence. “I didn’t mean for tonight to go this way. I didn’t think he’d bring up such a painful memory for you.”
Sebastian stopped mid-step, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Don’t apologise,” he said, his voice even but laced with bitterness.
“That’s what he does best. He knows my weak spots, and he loves nothing more than pressing on them until he gets what he wants.”
His words carried the weight of years of frustration, the kind that no single conversation could unravel.
I shifted on the bed, unsure of how to navigate this terrain. I wanted to help, but this was a battlefield Sebastian had been walking long before I came into his life.
“What are you going to do about her?” I asked, my voice tentative. “The woman-your business partner. She’s driving a wedge between you and your father.”
Sebastian’s laugh was unexpected. It wasn’t his usual low chuckle or one of those rare, genuine laughs that made his eyes crinkle. This was sharper, louder, almost mocking.
“Sasha,” he said, shaking his head as if I’d just said something ridiculous, “there’s no wedge to drive. My father and I… We’ve been estranged for as long as I can remember.”
“She’s not the cause of our issues. She’s just another tool he’s trying to use against me.”
I frowned, trying to piece together the complicated dynamic. “But… it seemed like there was something deeper tonight. Like maybe there’s still a part of you that-”
“Don’t,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “Whatever you think you saw, whatever you think is left between me and him… it’s long gone.”
He turned away from me, his hands running through his hair as if trying to dispel whatever thoughts were weighing on him.
I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles coiled as if ready to spring into action at any moment.
And then, without warning, he strode to the bed and reached under his pillow. My breath hitched as I watched him pull out his gun, his movements deliberate but not rushed.
“Sebastian,” I began, but the words caught in my throat as he stood up and tucked the weapon into the back of his shirt.
He turned to me, his expression unreadable. “What?”
“Where are you going?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
There was a pause, a moment where the air seemed to thicken around us.
Sebastian’s eyes softened just a fraction, and I could see the man beneath the hardened exterior-the one who cared, who loved fiercely, even if he didn’t always show it the way I expected.
“The woman,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “She sent me a gift. My father.”
I blinked, confused. “A gift?”
He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Her way of trying to get me to play nice. But I’m not one for games, Sasha. Not hers, and definitely not his.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, my chest tightening with a mix of worry and curiosity.
Sebastian’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with something I couldn’t quite place. “I’m going to repay her kindness.”
“Sebastian,” I said, my voice almost pleading now. “What does that mean?”
He leaned down, his face inches from mine. “It means,” he said, his tone dangerously calm, “that she’ll understand what I mean when I say no. No deals. No alliances. No games.”
Before I could say another word, he straightened up and headed for the door, his movements swift and purposeful.
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room with nothing but the weight of his words and the lingering scent of his cologne.