The Reluctant Heiress: A Novella(32)

“She saw us leave,” he says cryptically. “Things were winding down, anyway. It was a great party, Candace. Thank you.”

“Anything for Nona.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “You know what I mean.”

I do—he’s thanking me for treating Nona like family, for loving her as much as he does. The emotion in his eyes makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want his gratitude.

I break eye contact as I hug my arms to my chest. “Pretty great news about Alex and Thea, right?”

A smile in his voice, he says, “Yes. Did he tell you he cut out a hole in one of her favorite books and hid the ring in it? She was furious.”

I laugh shortly. “Yeah. Leave it to Alex to make a woman happy and pissed off at the same time.”

Sebastian grins. “Feeling a little better?”

“A little, thanks.”

He takes a step toward me, smile taking on a familiar edge. “Know what else will make you feel better?”

I frown. “I’m not really in the mo—” My words become a yelp as he grabs me by the waist, throws me over his shoulder, and starts running.

“Stop! Don’t you dare! Put—Me—Down!”

Laughing maniacally, he slows. “You want me to put you down?”

I lift my head enough to see where we are. My fingers dig into his shirt. “No. No, Bast. I swear to God—”

I’m flying, shrieking, seething, and finally laughing—right as I hit the water. It’s shockingly cold and dark, and immensely soothing. Kicking off my shoes, I allow myself to sink to the bottom, then lazily push to the surface.

I ignore the still-laughing man standing at the side of the pool as I float, my arms out and my gaze fixed on the starry sky.

Sebastian’s laughter fades to a sigh. “I remember that being more fun.”

I smirk, turning my head toward him. “You mean when I would throw an epic fit and Alex or Deacon would have to pull me off you.”

His teeth flash white in a grin. “Absolutely.”

I laugh. “We’re not teenagers anymore, Bast.”

“No, we’re not.” He steps out of his shoes and sits on the edge, dunking bare feet and the bottom half of his pants into the water. “Shit, that’s cold.”

“Baby.”

“Brat.”

I focus once again on the sky, my smile fading. My heart aches, divided by longing and fear. I don’t want to ruin the peace of the moment, this inexplicably precious doorway between the past and present. So I don’t tell him how much I’ve missed him over the years, how tired I am of fighting my feelings, or how scared I am that it’s too late for us.

Instead, I ask, “What should I do? Where do I go from here?”

He lingers in thoughts for a few moments. “I’ve always seen one of the challenges of having money as too much freedom. Too many choices.”

I grunt. “My brothers haven’t had a problem with it. They’ve found their passions.”

“Aren’t you passionate about what you do?” he asks in surprise.

The cold is finally seeping into my skin, so I flip upright and swim to the edge. Shivering, I brace my forearms on the tiled edge beside his legs, then look up at him. Unreadable dark eyes scan my face.

“Parts of it, yes,” I admit. “I love the results, but not the method. All the ass-kissing I have to do. Dealing with snobs who’d rather lose a limb than part with their money.”

He hums in commiseration. “Maybe it’s time for a career change.”

I frown. “Just give up? What about all the good I can do?”

“No matter what you do, Candace, you’ll find a way to do good.” He lifts his legs from the water and stands, offering me a hand. “Come on, you’re shivering. Let’s get you into the house.”





21





When Sebastian angles us toward the main house, I wiggle out from under his arm.

“I can’t go in there,” I say tightly.

His gaze sweeps across my determined expression and the arms I’ve folded tightly across my wet chest. He nods. “Okay. You can take the couch.”

“So chivalrous,” I gripe, but I’m smiling as I follow him to the guesthouse.

I wait outside for him to bring me a towel, which I use to squeeze moisture from my ruined dress. My heels are at the bottom of the deep end, a similarly lost cause.

Towel wrapped around me, I gratefully enter the warm guesthouse and jog upstairs to his room. In the bathroom, I drop the towel and crank on the shower, hopping from foot to foot while it heats. The mirror shows me Sebastian entering the bedroom. He disappears from sight—dresser drawers open and close—then reappears in the bathroom doorway wearing sweatpants and no shirt.

“Do you have everything you need?” he asks softly.

I focus pointedly on his face, ignoring the sudden heat in my body that has nothing to do with the steam now curling through the bathroom. “Yep, all good. Thanks.”

He nods, expression guarded, but doesn’t move to leave. In the ensuing silence, my heart begins to race.

“Bast?” I whisper.

He blinks, gaze rising from my chest to my face. “Tell me to go, Candace,” he says roughly.