Page 62 of His Obsession
Sebastian is wildly supportive of my work, which shouldn’t surprise me. Our relationship basically started over a conference table. But now I’m starting to notice that he gets turned on watching me work. Did he always do that?
One afternoon, I have to wave him away.
“I can’t have you lurking behind my laptop like a horny teenager while I’m discussing centerpiece heights.”
“But it’s so fucking sexy,” he whispers, bending down to my ear.
I can’t stop the blush that spreads across my face. I end up rescheduling my meeting because he’s not the only one who can’t control himself.
Two days later, he has a second desk moved into the library because he says the light is better in there. A lie. His office isbasically made of windows. I let it happen anyway because I like having him nearby.
We build a routine without talking about it. Breakfast together when my morning sickness allows. Work in separate corners of the same room. Lunch together, usually dinner too, unless he has a meeting. Sometimes we end up in bed. Sometimes I fall asleep against him on the sofa and he carries me upstairs like I weigh nothing.
Nico comes by a little too often for my taste, which I’m happy to tell him.
“I’m checking on my pregnant sister,” he says one afternoon, opening Sebastian’s fridge like he pays the mortgage here.
“You’re eating Sebastian’s expensive cheese.”
Sebastian walks in behind him. “That cheese is imported.”
Nico takes a bite. “And it won’t go to waste.”
He seems happy for us, even though he’d rather chew glass than say it directly. I know because he stops glaring at Sebastian every time we stand too close. He also stops making comments about boundaries.
Mostly, he watches us with that worried older-brother look he’s had since our parents died, except now there’s something softer under it. One night, while Sebastian is on a call and Nico is helping me clean up takeout containers, he nudges my shoulder with his.
“You seem better.”
I glance toward the hall, where Sebastian’s voice is low and irritated over something involving a contractor downtown. “I feel better.”
“With him?”
I stack empty containers because eye contact feels like a trap. “I think so.”
Nico nods like the answer bothers him and relieves him at the same time. “Good.”
Matteo is another constant presence in the mansion. He appears and disappears at odd hours, always with some dry comment and usually with a folder or phone call that makes Sebastian’s jaw tighten. I know they’re hunting Adrian. I know there are things they’re not saying in front of me. I should probably hate that, but the truth is, I don’t want every detail. I want Adrian gone. I don’t need the logistics of how they make that happen rattling around my head at three in the morning.
Matteo seems to understand that better than anyone. He never says Adrian’s name unless he has to. He brings me cannoli from a bakery downtown after I mention missing New York pastries, and when I call him nice, he looks genuinely offended.
“You take that back!” he screeches, pressing his hand against his chest.
“I call it like I see it.” I shrug.
“There’s something very twisted in you if you believe that.”
I can’t help but laugh. He probably isn’t wrong.
A few more weeks pass, and my body starts changing enough that I can’t ignore it. My dresses fit differently. My stomach has a small curve that can’t be blamed on a big pasta lunch.
I catch myself standing in front of Sebastian’s bathroom mirror with one hand over it, staring like I have X-ray vision. I try to picture its face, or how I’ll decorate the nursery. In these imaginings, the nursery is at the mansion and I live here full-time. Sebastian wakes up in the middle of the night to help with feedings because he wants me to get some rest. Those thoughts stop me short every time, but once I start picturing it, I can’t stop.
Sebastian finds me in the bathroom one night, staring at my reflection in one of his shirts, hand on my stomach.
He stops in the doorway. “You okay?”
“I’m starting to look pregnant.”
