Page 8 of Forbidden Sins

“Miss Gallo?” A voice at my elbow interrupts me, and I turn my head sharply, seeing a handsome blond man who looks a little older than me hovering there, his voice faintly accented.

Russian , I think. I don’t recognize him, but then again, I haven’t committed very many of my father’s associates to memory, let alone their children, which this man certainly is. “Would you dance with me?”

I nod, knowing that will make my father happy, and that it will give me an excuse to get away from Marilee and my churning thoughts for a moment. “I’ll be back,” I tell her, and she laughs, waving her hand.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve seen so many handsome guys since I got here. I’m going to go ask one of them to dance.” She grins and darts off as I let the man who asked me to dance take my hand.

The next few hours are a whirlwind, with very little time for me to breathe.

I’m constantly being asked to dance by one man or another, all of whose names slip through my head like sand.

I’m too busy looking for Luis, and trying to take a few minutes to grab a glass of water or a few more sips of champagne—before someone else wants my attention.

I see Marilee again once, before she disappears, and I feel sure she went off with some man.

I’m not surprised—there are plenty of guys here who I’m sure would be interested in a one-night stand with her.

Good for her, I think, making my way toward the buffet table to grab a few bites of appetizers and another quick gulp of champagne.

I’ve only just managed to eat a bite of a chicken pesto sandwich quarter when I’m asked to dance again.

I try to politely say no—just in time to be interrupted by my father’s booming voice and several staff members bringing out my birthday cake.

He really went all out. I glance around for Luis, but he’s still nowhere to be seen, and my stomach drops.

I wanted him here for this. I wanted him here for all of it.

But I don’t see him anywhere, and I don’t see Sebastian, either.

I bite my lip, trying to contain my disappointment as the four-tier confection of pink frosting and sugar pearls comes to a stop in the middle of the room, and my father begins a toast.

It’s all very sweet—about his darling daughter and how proud he is of me and how beautiful I am, but I barely hear it. I’m too busy looking for anyone else that I care about in the room. Marilee is still gone. Sebastian has vanished. And Luis?—

I look toward the ballroom doors, hoping they’ll fling open and he’ll hurry in, but as the crowd begins to sing “ Happy Birthday, ” he’s still not there. I swallow hard, grabbing another passing glass of champagne and ignoring the slight buzz in my head as I take a sip, fighting back tears.

Where could he be ?

The guests are all clapping, and I realize that the staff have lit the twenty-one candles covering the surface of the cake. I’m supposed to blow them out now. I walk carefully toward the towering confection, drawing in a deep breath as I lean in and think of what I want to wish for.

I wish that my brother won’t miss my entire birthday.

I let out a long, rushing breath, the candle flames dancing as they extinguished in a burst. All except one, at the very top—swaying in the breeze coming in from the open doors to the garden.

My stomach clenches, but I try to ignore it. It’s just a silly superstition, anyway. But all the same, I feel a flutter of dread as I lean up on my tiptoes and blow out the final candle.

The cake is cut, and delicate china plates with slivers of cake—almond with raspberry filling—are handed out to all of the guests.

Marilee appears a moment later, just in time to snag one, coming to stand next to me as she brushes a wayward piece of hair out of her face with her free hand.

I can’t help but notice that there are a few pieces of hair coming out of her updo, and I glance at her with a wry smile.

“Where’d you go off to?” I ask, taking a bite of my cake. It’s delicious—soft and spongy—and I take a sip of champagne to wash it down. The dryness of the champagne pairs perfectly with the delicate sweetness of the cake, and I let out a soft sigh of pleasure. This, at least, is perfect.

“I, um—” Marilee bites her lip. “Well, this man—Adam, I think he said his name was?—asked me to go walk through the gardens with him. You have a lovely place, ‘Stel, really, it’s all so gorgeous?—”

I give her a wry smile. “What did you do in the gardens?”

“We, ah—kissed.” Her cheeks are flushing red, and she promptly stuffs her mouth full of cake as I laugh.

“Is that all?”

“Of course ,” she says quickly, swallowing her cake, but I can see from how red her cheeks are turning that that’s not even close to the truth.

“I mean—” she cuts her eyes sideways at me again.

“How could I say no, ‘Stel? He was gorgeous . And he looked rich. He offered to take me out next weekend to this restaurant I’ve heard about, but could never afford to go to on my own—” She trails off, her flush deepening. “I probably sound stupid, right?”

“No,” I assure her quickly. “I just wouldn’t expect anything to come of it. But it could be fun, for a little while.”

“Right?” Marilee recovers quickly. “Fun for a little while. That’s all I want, anyway.”

I bite my lip. I would like to know what fun for a little while feels like.

What it’s like to just have a casual fling for no other reason than a guy is gorgeous and into me and wants to have fun just as much as I do.

Instead, all I’m ever going to experience of love and romance and sex is an impossible crush on my bodyguard, and then probably a husband picked out for me by my father, unless I get very lucky, and?—

“Estella.” Sebastian’s voice comes from behind me, and I jump with a squeak of fright, nearly dropping the china plate in my hand.

I spin toward him, immediately unsettled by the way he said my name—my actual name, without a hint of levity in it.

Instead, his voice sounds flat and dead serious, sending a chill down my spine.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Sebastian use that tone with me before.

“What?” I press my hand to my chest, trying to slow my heart, which is suddenly beating like a rabbit.

“What’s going on, Sebastian?” His expression is deadly serious, too, his mouth set in a hard line and his eyes blank.

I’ve never seen him like this, and that cold feeling starts to bleed through my veins.

Something is wrong.

“I need you to come with me. Sorry,” he adds to Marilee, giving her a quick, polite nod. “But you need to come with me, Estella.”

“What—why?” I swallow hard, and Sebastian plucks both the china plate and the glass of champagne from my fingers, setting them on the nearest table as he takes my hand.

“Just come , Estella,” he says sharply, tugging me along and leaving a startled Marilee in our wake.

I hurry after him, trying not to trip in my heels, that feeling of wrongness only intensifying.

Sebastian never treats me like this. He’s never dragged me out of a room, or even really touched me all that often.

His hand around mine is a shock, and dimly, in the back of my head, I register how it feels.

Broad and strong and a little rough, encapsulating my much smaller, daintier hand, and a shiver runs through me.

I realize he’s taking me toward the stairs. I look around for my father, but he’s nowhere to be seen. As we reach the staircase, Sebastian tugs me ahead of him, one hand dropping to the small of my back as he gently urges me up the stairs.

It’s then that I realize—he has his gun drawn and in his other hand.

Fear paralyzes me for a moment, making me stop on the first stair.

“Sebastian, tell me what’s going on,” I demand, my voice shaking.

I never speak to him this way either, never order him around like the mafia princess I am, but dread is pulsing through my veins like thick oil, my chest squeezing painfully as I twist around to look at him.

“I can’t tell you anything right now, princess,” he says, and the nickname calms me a little—just as the urgency in his voice makes my pulse ratchet up again. “We need to go upstairs. Just trust me. Please.”

It’s the please that gets my feet moving again. I nod, a small, shaky motion, and my feet numbly start to move, taking me up the stairs with Sebastian close behind.

“Where are we going?” I ask shakily as we reach the landing, and he turns me gently with his hand on my back.

The feeling of his fingers touching the small of my back again sends a strange tingling sensation through me—like the feeling of pins and needles after my hand falls asleep from painting too long.

I twist to look at him, and he gently urges me forward.

“Your room,” he says quickly. “I need you to stay there, Estella, until I or your father comes to get you. Do you understand?”

The way he says those last few words is gentle—but it feels like a slap, it’s so startling.

I’ve never heard him say that to me before, never heard such firmness in his tone.

He’s giving me orders, I realize, behaving wholly like my bodyguard instead of my friend—and I feel that chill turn my blood to ice again.

Something must be very, very wrong.

“Sebastian.” I look at him again as we reach the door to my room, balking a little as I look at him with pleading eyes.

The blank, false calm on his face terrifies me—what is happening that he’s wearing this mask, instead of the expressions I know so well?

“Where’s my brother? Did he ever show up? Why?—”

“Just go inside and lock the door, Estella,” he says sharply, glancing back toward the stairs.

“Someone will be up to get you soon, I promise. Just stay put .” His hand grips my arm as he says it, turning me toward him a little, and the intensity in his voice shatters that blank calm that he had a moment ago. “I need you to promise me.”

I stare at him, swallowing hard. “I—okay,” I whisper.

He gives me a small, sudden shake that makes my eyes widen—and a strange warmth pool in my stomach. “ Promise , Estella.”

“I promise.” My voice is the smallest, hushed whisper, fear tightening my throat. Sebastian yanks open my bedroom door and nudges me inside, his expression blank and hard once again.

“Good,” he says simply, and closes the door in my face.