Chapter 66

[ 1,028 words ]

Emilia’s POV

“Sebastian.”

“I said wait—”

He pushed the fabric aside, revealing the lace of my bra underneath. His eyes dropped, and I saw something dark flicker in them.

“Why?” he asked, his voice low. Rough. “You don’t want this?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted. My body was screaming yes. His scent was everywhere, filling my lungs, making my blood run hot. The weight of him pressed against me felt right, like every cell in my body recognized him.

But my head was spinning.

His hand slid down. Down my stomach. Past my waistband.

I held my breath.

His fingers brushed against something soft.

He froze.

Then he jerked his hand back like he’d been burned.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

He rolled off me, landing on his back with a heavy exhale. His hand dragged down his face.

“What just happened?” I asked, breathless.

He didn’t answer.

I sat up, pulling my shirt closed. My hands were shaking. My entire body was buzzing.

“Sebastian.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice tight. “Just… inconvenient.”

I stared at him. His jaw was clenched. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling like he was trying to physically restrain himself from looking at me.

The tension in the room was unbearable. My face burned. My skin felt like it was on fire.

I stood up. Grabbed the doorframe. Didn’t look back.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

“Goodnight, Emilia.”

I almost ran back to my room.

I slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the bed, pressing both hands against my burning cheeks.

Sebastian Simons touched me. Touched me between my legs—and we didn’t even have sex.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Oh, Goddess. This is so humiliating.

The next morning, I felt like death.

My body clock was completely wrecked. I was used to strict schedules—sleep at ten, wake at six, survive like a well-oiled machine. But between the midnight dinner and whatever that was in his bed, I’d probably gotten three hours of sleep total.

I dragged myself downstairs.

The breakfast table was already set. Mila was pouring tea, Titus was reading the newspaper, and Tiffany was scrolling through her phone.

And Sebastian?

He looked worse than I did.

Dark circles under his eyes. His hair was slightly disheveled. He was sitting at the head of the table with a cup of black coffee like it was a lifeline.

“Good morning,” Mila said, her eyes sharp and knowing. “Did you two sleep well last night?”

I froze.

I shot a glare at Sebastian under my lashes, kicking his ankle under the table.

Say something. Anything. Don’t leave me hanging here, you idiot.

He looked up. Slowly.

“I barely slept at all last night,” he said flatly.

“What?” Mila’s eyes widened. “You didn’t sleep?”

Both Titus and Tiffany turned to stare at him.

“It was a long night,” Sebastian added, a small smirk on his lips.

My eye twitched.

“Emilia,” Mila turned to me, concern in her voice. “Did you sleep well?”

I smiled. “Slept like a baby.”

“Baby that woke up every ten minutes crying,” Sebastian muttered.

If we weren’t sitting in front of the whole family, I would’ve strangled him.

I kicked him again. Harder.

“She screamed a lot in her sleep, if you know what I mean,” he continued.

“Sebastian.”

“What?” He looked at me with innocent eyes that didn’t fool anyone. “I’m just saying you had nightmares.”

“Right.” I gritted my teeth. “Terrible nightmares. About being stuck in a room with someone who talks too much.”

Tiffany laughed. “You’re so funny, Emilia. Honestly, you and my brother sound like an old married couple.”

“Tiffany,” Mila said, hiding a smile. “Don’t tease them.”

“I’m not teasing. I’m observing. “

I reached under the table, aiming for his thigh to pinch him.

But my hand never made it.

Sebastian caught my wrist. His grip was firm, warm. He held it there, fingers wrapped around mine, hidden beneath the tablecloth.

I looked up.

He was staring straight ahead, face unreadable. But his thumb moved slowly against my skin, back and forth, like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

My breath hitched.

What the hell is happening to me?

The rest of breakfast was a blur. I couldn’t taste anything. Couldn’t focus on the conversation. All I could think about was his hand on mine.

I was in a good mood at work that day. Maybe because things between Sebastian and me had finally shifted into something easier.

It didn’t last.

By the time I got home that evening, I could feel it the moment I walked through the door.

The atmosphere felt different. Heavier than usual.

Mila and Tiffany were standing in front of Titus’s study, both pale. Something had clearly gone wrong.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” I rushed over.

Mila grabbed my arm. “Emilia, think of something. Sebastian is fighting with his father!”

The words barely left her mouth before a loud crash came from behind the door. Something shattered. We all flinched.

I’d seen Sebastian cold, arrogant, sarcastic. I’d even seen him almost gentle last night. But this was different. The shouting from inside was raw. Uncontrolled. Like someone had finally snapped.

“Mom, let’s go in.” I reached for the door handle.

It didn’t budge.

“It’s no use.” Tiffany’s voice was unsteady. “He locked it from inside.”

The fighting escalated. More shouting. More crashes. Glass breaking. I wasn’t someone who panicked easily, but my hands were shaking.

Then I heard it.

A name. Spat through the door.

Abigail Tanner.

I went still. I turned to Mila. “Mom. Is this about that woman?”

Mila said nothing. She turned away, sat down on the sofa, and pressed a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were wet.

That was answer enough.

I turned to Tiffany. “Is it because of Abigail?”

Tiffany shook her head. “I don’t know. When I got home, they were already at it—”

I pressed my ear to the door. The wood was thick. I couldn’t make out the words, just the anger behind them.

Then Tiffany muttered, “Honestly, the only person who can make my brother lose it like this is Abigail.”

If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.