“Thank you. You didn’t have to take your time to make this for me, but you did. I appreciate it. I’ve been missing home a lot lately, and this makes it feel somehow…closer.” I look into her eyes, making sure she sees the sincerity in my words.
“You’re welcome. Happy Birthday. Now eat your cake, Sebastard.” She beams back at me, a bright smile splitting her lips. Fucking brat.
Taking the first bite, the rich espresso taste saturates my tongue. It tastes like a collision of bittersweetness and indulgence, not unlike what I imagine the creator herself to taste like. The espresso is dark roasted and slightly bitter. I can tell it’s the same one I enjoy from her shop daily, soaking into the savoiardi until they’re tender but not soggy. She made them from scratch. How the hell did she manage this? The mascarpone cream melts in my mouth, rich and velvety, with a gentle sweetness that feels more luxurious than sugary. The cocoa dustingon top adds a dry, dark chocolate edge that lingers on my tongue, balancing everything out. It tastes exactly as I dreamed it would. Likehome. A slow, knowing grin splits her lips, but I say nothing. Instead, I savor the delicious treat she made just for me.
“It’s good, isn't it?” She inspects my every move. I just shrug.
“It’s fine. Espresso is a little bland. If you imported your coffee from Italy, it would be better.” I jab, and she takes it in stride, her triumphant smile not wavering for even a moment.
“I’ll take that into consideration for next time.” She takes a bite, moaning around her fork. The sound is like heroin straight to my cock, and I shift uncomfortably.
“Will you be okay here?” I’m not sure what possessed me to ask. Concern for her safety? Common decency, maybe? This is completely unlike me. “I know your ghost hasn’t made himself known lately, but I don’t want to leave you unprotected.”
She nods wordlessly, as if she doesn’t truly believe it, but she can convince herself if she doesn’t hear the words out loud. I don’t feel good about leaving her here alone. But I have much more important responsibilities, and she’s a grown woman. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. I take one last bite, much bigger than the first, before rinsing my fork and putting it in the dishwasher.
“I’m heading to bed. I’ll be leaving before the end of the week.” I search her face for any sign of hesitation, but her expression is neutral as she nods back at me.
“Good night, Sebastian. Sweet dreams.” She gives me a half wave, her smile not reaching her eyes.
“Thank you, Vanessa. Really. It was…it was great.” I don’t wait for her response, even though I catch her smile out of the corner of my eye as I stalk back to my bedroom.
I hate dancing around her like this. Grovewood was supposed to be simple, uncomplicated. She wasn’t supposed to muddy the fucking waters with her luscious curves and flawlessly tanned skin. She wasn’t even supposed to exist for me. Now, the idea of leaving her here alone causes a sick feeling deep in the pit of my stomach.
I could be out of here before I can do something really fucking stupid like give in to the pull I can’t seem to ignore every time she walks into the room.
But that’s the funny thing about being the king. A king doesn’t have to compromise what he wants, he just has to take it.
thirteen
It’s beenweeks since I’ve had any sign of the masked man. Still, the thought of Sebastian leaving town is terrifying. What if the masked man is watching, waiting for the moment I’m alone and he can pull me under his spell all over again?
I don’t know what possessed me to make Sebastian a birthday cake. Or birthday tiramisu, since I’ve been told a dozen times tiramisu is not cake. Hearing the way he described his childhood, I felt a kind of kindred familiarity. Like I’d lived the same life, in a different time, on the other side of the world. My parents never celebrated any of their children except my brother. Eventually, it became so normal that it stopped bothering me. But I always knew it was fucked up. Parents are supposed to be your biggest cheerleaders, the ones you can depend on for anything in this life. I got completely fucked in that department. But I had Aria, I didn’t need much else, and that was fine by me.
Curling up in my favorite position on the couch, I tug my blanket over my shoulders. Maybe I’ll do something really outrageous and sleep in Sebastian’s bed while he’s gone. Notthat this couch isn’t ridiculously comfortable, because it is. But the idea of being surrounded by his things, his scent, is intoxicating on a completely different level. My eyes drift closed, pulling me into the abyss of a dreamless sleep.
“Diavolina, I’ve missed you.” His fingers caress my cheek, and goosebumps spread across my skin.
No, no, no, no, no, this is not happening. I’ve eluded him for weeks! Why now?! Why tonight, the night I finally felt the ice melting between Sebastian and me? I can’t move a single muscle, every fiber of my being feeling like solid concrete.
“What did you do to me?” I croak out, my voice scratchy.
How the fuck did he even find me here? Where is Doug? Where is Sebastian? There’s no way he could’ve gotten into this apartment without Sebastian waking up. Ice runs through my veins. Did he hurt him? Is Seb dead, and I’m to blame? Emotion lodges in my throat, a sob aching to break free.
“Shhhhh, not to worry. Everything is fine.” The gentle tone of his voice, the delicate way he touches my face, although I know I shouldn’t trust him, I do.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I strain to get the words out, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
“To you? No, amore mio. I’m doing this for you. To show you who you really are. What you really want.” He pulls the blanket down my body, exposing my bare arms to the cooler air.
I want to pull away, to shiver and tug myself from his grip. But I can’t move. Is this what sleep paralysis feels like? Is all of this really just a vivid fever dream I’m constantly falling into? Maybe I’m sleepwalking every time something has been moved before. Maybe I really have been imagining everything, and this man is just all in my mind.
“I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Heat flushes through my body, sweat breaking out across my skin.
“There is no need to lie. I can feel it in your pulse, I can smell it on your skin. You want me just as I want you.” One dark hand slips around my throat as the other slides down my arm, leaving heat in it’s wake.
Swallowing hard, his fingers flex tighter, the circulation slowing as I teeter on the edge of lightheadedness. I’ve never really been into choking before, but I’ve also never really had to chance to explore this side of myself. So I can’t say if this is something I’m actually turned on by, or if the heightened emotions are just getting the best of me.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I’m definitely turned on by this. Should I be? No, this is insane, absolutely diabolical. I should be committed for the things I’m thinking right now, but that doesn’t stop me from leaning in to his touch the slightest bit.