Page 61 of His Obsession
His expression barely changes, but I can tell he accepts it. “I can work with that.”
“That’s very generous of you,” I tease.
“I’m known for my generosity,” he shoots back.
I glance around his ridiculous bedroom. Dark furniture, huge bed, view of the hills.
“Clearly. This house screams humble public servant.”
His mouth curves slightly. “I noticed your house wasn’t exactly a hovel.”
He leans down and kisses me before I have a chance to argue. I brace for the panic the second his mouth touches mine, but itdoesn’t come. Mostly, I’m annoyed by how good he is at this. It seems unfair that a man can be this rich, this handsome, and this good at kissing. When he pulls back, I glare at him on principle.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing. I’m processing an injustice.”
He looks amused.
“I should’ve told you this from the start, baby. I always get the last word.”
“We’ll see about that,” I say, slipping out of bed and bolting for the bathroom before he can respond.
I’d love to say that morning heals everything in me. It would be so convenient to just decide I can be normal in a relationship and have it be so. Unfortunately, I still have bad dreams. I still flinch if someone knocks too hard. I still hate the gate even though I’m relieved every time it closes behind Sebastian’s car.
Still, I start to settle in. A few dresses end up in his closet. My laptop migrates to the library. My favorite moisturizer takes up residence on his bathroom counter, which feels more intimate than sex in some way. The guest room technically remains mine, but I stop sleeping in it after the dinner party.
Neither of us says anything about that.
Sebastian learns that I’m mean before coffee and even worse when the morning sickness hits hard. I learn that he takes most of his calls standing near windows, like sitting down during business might weaken his authority.
He also remembers every random complaint I make, which is a terrible habit in a man I’m trying not to like too much. Onemorning, I mention that the ginger tea helps my nausea but tastes like boiled potpourri. By the next day, there are four different kinds in the pantry.
“This is excessive,” I tell him, standing in his kitchen in leggings and one of his shirts.
“You didn’t like the tea. I tend to listen when you complain.”
“I complain recreationally. You don’t have to run out and fix it.”
“But you’re so much easier to handle when you’re happy.”
“You’re going to bankrupt yourself on nausea tea.”
He gives me a look that says it would take a hell of a lot more than tea to bankrupt him.
“Fine,” I say. “You’re going to mildly inconvenience one of your assistants.”
“That’ll be my burden to bear.”
The strange part is how little he asks for in return. Adrian’s kindness always came with a ledger. Flowers meant forgiveness owed. Dinner meant sex owed. Protection meant obedience owed. With Sebastian, the debt never arrives. He does things just because he wants to.
It makes me suspicious for a while. Then it just makes me uncomfortable. Then, somewhere in the middle of the second week, I catch myself smiling at a plate of toast because he cut it into triangles after I mentioned once that rectangles felt like too much when I was nauseated. That’s when I know I’m in trouble.
Work helps, mostly because doing nothing would make me intolerable. I’m not exactly a ball of sunshine even on my best days. My official leave of absence turns into a remote-workarrangement where everyone pretends I’m resting and I pretend I’m not answering emails from one of Sebastian’s leather chairs. Tessa and Lila handle in-person walkthroughs. I join by video with my camera angled carefully so clients don’t get a tour of the mansion behind me. Veronica sends catering updates with voice memos so dramatic I have to start saving them for Gia.
One bride cries because I won’t personally attend her engagement brunch, which would be flattering if she weren’t thirty-five and marrying her third hedge-fund manager.
I can still plan from my confinement. I can call florists and approve floor plans. I can tell a vendor that ivory and eggshell are not interchangeable, and I can do it from Sebastian’s insanely beautiful library. I don’t have to sacrifice pieces of myself to make this arrangement work.
