Page 110 of Broken Crown

Maybe it would have saved me from the situation I was now in.

A wave of shame and guilt hit me, hot and sickening in my stomach.

It wasn't fair to even hint at blaming her for my situation.

And if I were honest with myself…truly, brutally honest…I knew better than to get involved with a man like Sebastian.

The red flags had been there from the very beginning.

I’d seen them. I’d felt them. And I’d talked myself out of every single one.

So what made me think I could trust my instincts now?

The car moved under the stone arch into the courtyard and up to the imposing doors of the Diamanti palazzo.

Without waiting for the driver, I opened the door and got out, the damp air hitting my face with a shock of cold.

Inside, as I allowed the servant to help me off with my wet trench coat, I glanced up the marble staircase.

Sebastian stood there, looking down at me. His shadow stretched across the marble floor like a living thing, reaching for me before he did.

I jumped as the servant slammed the front door closed.

Sebastian stretched out his arm in a gesture for me to climb the stairs to him. "Welcome home, sweetheart."

Home.

Three hours. I just needed to get through the next three hours.

I slid my foot onto the first step and stopped.

I couldn't do this.

Forcing my lips into a stiff smile, I took several more steps, each one inching me closer to Sebastian. Each step bringing me closer to my own execution.

The moment I reached the top, his warm hand closed over my cold one.

He pulled me close against his chest and kissed the top of my head. "My little bird is cold. Come. I already have a fire going and a bottle of wine opened."

He studied my face.

I licked my dry lips, his eyes tracking the movement. "I should change first. It's nasty out there. My skirt got splashed when someone on a Vespa ran through a puddle."

It was a lie.

His gaze swept over my body, taking in my dry skirt. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around mine, the pressure just short of painful.

I waited, not moving for what seemed like an eternity.

His lips lifted in the ghost of a smile that never reached his eyes—those obsidian depths that had watched a man die without flinching. "Of course."

He placed a hand on my lower back and led me through the various fresco-lined gallery rooms until we reached the staircase for the upper bedrooms. The heat of his palm against my lower back burned through the thin silk of my blouse, a brand I both craved and feared.

I forced another smile, feeling my face might crack from the effort. "I won't be long."

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my cheek. "Don't be. I'm anxious to hear about your day."

We stood there staring at one another.