Page 22 of His Obsession
I have that vision. Sebastian, irritatingly enough, seems to have some version of it too. We spend the next hour walking the room together.
Somehow, it stops feeling like work. We’re just two people admiring a beautiful room, basking in our vision board finally coming to life.
At one point, we stop near the ballroom doors while I explain the soft-open sequence for donors, and he leans in to study the sketched guest flow arrows on my packet. His shoulder brushes mine. Barely. I feel it everywhere.
By the time we circle back to the terrace access doors, my heels are killing me and the knot at the base of my neck has become one solid line of tension. The ballroom looks better than it did when I arrived. So do my notes. The candle situation is handled. The sponsor signage is approved. The hotel finally gave me the corrected loading dock clearance times. Objectively, I should feel calmer.
Instead, I feel hyperaware, and it’s all his fault.
We stop near the edge of the terrace where the late afternoon light spills gold across the marble floor and the city stretches out below in hazy, expensive layers.
Sebastian studies the ballroom through the open doors behind us. “Do you enjoy the stress?”
I laugh once. “That’s a strange question.”
He fixes me with a look that says he understands me better than I give him credit for.
I shrug. “Nobody enjoys this part,” I say, looking out over the city. “Not really.”
“Well, you’re extraordinary at managing it.”
I hum, considering. It’s not exactly something I’d choose to be extraordinary at if I’d had any other option.
Slowly, I look up at him. He’s already watching me with that directness. Something in his face has gone still in a way that makes the whole moment feel suddenly private, even though we’re standing in a half-built gala space with hotel staff twenty feet away.
“Truthfully, you’re just extraordinary altogether,” he says, a little quieter.
The air between us turns too charged. I feel him so acutely he might as well be magnetized. It’s too much, and he’s too close. I step back, needing the distance to think rationally.
He is my brother’s best friend. More than that, he’s connected to things Nico has never fully explained to me. Things I honestly don’t want answered. He’s incredibly powerful in a way that has nothing to do with wealth and everything to do with organized crime, I’m sure. He’s the last person in the world I should be standing this close to.
And still, I like him. The realization makes me want to scream.
“I need to go,” I say quickly, turning to the ballroom door.
His expression shifts slightly, like he knows exactly what I’m doing. I gather my folder too quickly and almost drop the venue packet.
“I’ll send updated notes tonight.”
“Valentina…”
I look up again before I can stop myself.
His voice is even. “Get some rest.”
8
SEBASTIAN
Matteo’s nursing his second drink and has been going on about something for the last five minutes. I couldn’t begin to guess what. I haven’t caught a single word, which is unusual for me.
We’re in the back lounge at Bellissimo, half hidden behind smoked glass and low lighting, with a clear view of the main floor. Friday night is in full swing. The bass thrums steadily beneath our feet. Bottles flash under bar lights. Women in tight dresses laugh brightly with men staring brazenly at their chests. Servers glide through the crowd with trained efficiency. Security lurks at the edges without making themselves obvious.
Ordinarily, this is easy territory for me. My club. My people. My floor. I can track a dozen moving parts at once in a room like this without losing the thread of a single one. Tonight, I lose it the second I see Valentina.
She’s near the center bar with a friend, one hand wrapped around a drink, head tipped back in laughter. Every scrap of my attention locks on her.
She looks incredible. Her dark hair is down tonight, loose over her shoulders in a way that makes me want to bury my hands in it. She’s wearing a sleek black dress that leaves little to the imagination. The cut bares her shoulders and skims her body so that every man who passes within ten feet looks twice.
