Page 88 of Bared Betrayal

Sebastian glares in his father’s direction. “Still. You should have at least told me what happened.”

“I’m sorry. But it’s fine. I’m fine.” I give him a reassuring smile. “Everything is fine.”

“Did they take anything?”

“No,” I say. “Not that I know of.”

“Maybe it’s some sleazy reporter trying to snoop for shit to publish about me.”

Yeah, because it’s about you.

Sebastian brushes a piece of hair out of my face, then slides his hand down my arm, and I shiver with discomfort.

Gabriel clears his throat, and I catch him glaring at Sebastian’s hand, now settled on my thigh.

I nervously get to my feet. “Who’s hungry?”

“I’m starving,” Sebastian whines, slips out his phone, and checks his messages.

I look over at Gabriel, my heart shattered. It’s complete agony having him so close, yet unable to go to him and have him put his arms around me. And by the way he’s staring back at me, he feels the same way.

He places the empty mini bottle on the table. “Fuck room service. I’m ordering takeout. Burger and fries?”

Sebastian snorts. “No, thanks. Clogging my arteries with grease is not an appetizing thought.”

“Fine. I’ll get you a plate of celery sticks,” he sneers. “Kallie, burger and fries?”

“Su—”

“She’ll have a tomato, basil, and chickpea salad. She has a wedding dress to get into. Oh no, wait.” He looks up from his phone, brows slanted. “Chickpeas get her all bloated. If those vultures snap a candid of her from the wrong angle—” he grimaces “—people will think we’re having a shotgun wedding.”

I swallow hard that heavy, hollow feeling slowly settling into my gut. Gabriel merely glares at his son, whose attention is back on his phone, then cuts his gaze to me.

“What do you want for lunch, Kallie?”

It’s a challenge—a dare for me to speak up, to find my voice. But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know that whenever I’m around Sebastian, my mask is slipped on, and I don’t know how to take it off.

“Maybe a grilled chicken salad?”Trying to find a middle ground that can keep anyone happy.

Gabriel grinds his teeth into his lower lip, and I want to melt away into the twenty-five-thousand-dollar Persian carpet.

“Grilled chicken salad it is.”

“Good choice, babe,” Sebastian says, fingers flying over his screen. “Cameras can add five pounds to a person’s body, and I’m sure our wedding pictures will be everywhere.” Sebastian doesn’t even look up from his phone. If he did, he would see how rigid I am by mentioning our pictures being all over the media. That cannot happen. I don’t know how to get that through to him without telling him everything.

“Speaking of the wedding, how are the plans coming along?” Is Gabriel trying to fold me into a little box of shame and discomfort?

“Oh, it’s going great,” Sebastian answers before I get a chance to say I have no idea how the plans are coming along because, apparently, it’s not compulsory for the bride to be involved.

“Your grandmother is planning it all?” Gabriel already knows the wedding is all Elenor, but he’s hell-bent on starting a fire right now.

“It’s for the best,” Sebastian replies. “Between myself and Kallie, we couldn’t put together a dinner party, not to mention the wedding of the year.”

“Do you like what she’s planning, Kallie?” Gabriel sits on the couch, placing his leg on top of the other, spreading his arms wide across the backrest. “Is this the wedding you want?”

It’s impossible to miss the double meaning in his loaded question. It’s as if he’s provoking me, trying to force me into a corner while Sebastian is right fucking there. Is this a game to him? Is he trying to see how far he can push me before I break, just like he does when we’re alone? This isn’t some erotic, fucked-up scene we’re playing. This is my life.

I square my shoulders and lift my chin, hardening myself. “It’s the wedding I’m going to have,” I say, giving him the only answer I can. He doesn’t look away from me. The tension is thick, heavy, and Sebastian isn’t even paying enough attention to notice. I should be grateful he’s distracted.