The Billionaire Takes a Bride (Billionaires and Bridesmaids, #3)(22)

Her screams continued, then turned into sobbing. His nerves on edge, he pushed at the door again. When it wouldn’t open, he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, got out his credit card, and started shoving it through the seam in the door. It fell open with a snick a moment later, and he stumbled into the dark, steamy bathroom.

The shower was still going, and he fumbled forward, following the sound of her cries. “Chelsea? Are you okay?”

“Nooo,” she moaned, her screams turning into low sobs. “No. Please no. Let me out! I can’t breathe!”

“Chel?” He moved toward the shower and found her, huddled low into a ball as the spray poured down on her. “Jesus, are you all right?”

She slapped away his hands. “Don’t touch me! I can’t breathe! Please, no—” Her hands flung out, and her fist smacked him in his jaw.

Sebastian clenched his teeth, wincing at the blow. She didn’t know what she was doing. She was out of her mind with fear. “It’s okay,” he soothed, keeping his voice low and even. Her sobs of fear were breaking his heart. He reached over and turned off the water, and then pulled her against him, ignoring the fact that she flailed and tried to hit him again. “Chelsea, it’s me. It’s Sebastian.”

“I can’t breathe,” she rasped in his ear. “I can’t breathe! Help me!” Her cries turned into whimpers. “Too dark. Too dark.”

Was it an asthma attack? She seemed to be breathing fine, given that his ears were ringing from her shrill cries. A flash of memory from her apartment hit him. All the lights.

Was she afraid of the dark?

“The power’s off,” he soothed. “It’s just a storm. It’ll be back on soon.” He felt around in the dark and found a towel, then pulled it around her quaking body. The scent of her soap, cherries and vanilla, brushed over his nose. It smelled sweet and happy, a stark contrast to her terror.

He hauled her against him and carried her out of the bathroom. She was shaking like a leaf, and every time it thundered, she whimpered anew.

“Shh,” he told her, carrying her across the room toward the immense balcony. It didn’t matter that it was raining outside. If there was light out there, that was where he was going to go. “I’ve got you, Chelsea.”

“Can’t breathe,” she whimpered. “Can’t breathe.”

He snagged one of the blankets from the bed and pulled it onto her, then kicked open the door to the balcony. It was an enormous patio with delicate furniture that was currently being rained all over. There was about two inches of dry space next to the door, and he sank to his knees, holding her against him, and tucked the blanket around her. “Chelsea. Chelsea. It’s me. Can you hear me?”

Her eyes were dilated from fear, her hair plastered to her skull, and her entire body shivered and quaked with terror. She was lost in her mind, somewhere. He needed to help her. Frustration and helplessness swept over him.

“Look, Chelsea.” He pointed out at the street, in the rain. “Can you see? Lights. Look at all the lights.” Even though it was dark and stormy outside now, New Orleans was still lit up. Street signs, street lamps, even headlights from cars. Not even the pouring rain could darken Canal Street. “There’s lights everywhere. You’re outside.”

For a moment, he thought she was going to scream again, but she tensed and then gave a huge shudder. She sucked in an enormous breath and her hands found his shirt. Her fingers dug into his clothing. “S-Sebastian?”

“It’s me,” he said, voice soothing. What the hell was going on?

“I need the lights,” she said, panting. Her wide eyes stared out at the city, unfocused. “Please.”

“I’ll go get my phone. It has a flashlight app—”

“No,” she blurted, clinging harder to him. “Don’t leave me. Please!”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded and her arms went around his neck. “Just . . . stay out here with me, okay? I can’t . . . I can’t be in the dark.”

He settled down on the balcony next to her, pulled her into his lap, and tucked the now sodden blanket around her. All the while, the storm raged and whipped rain into their faces. “We’ll stay out here until the power comes on again, okay?”

She nodded and buried her face against his neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She was naked under the blankets.

He couldn’t even get an inappropriate boner. Instead, he just stroked her hair and her face and murmured to her as she shivered against him. The night was warm and balmy, and it felt more like a sauna than the bathroom had. Chelsea’s trembling wasn’t caused by the weather or the rain, but something going on in her mind.

She hated the dark. Hated it so much that she kept her lights on in her apartment at all times. He’d thought she just liked a lot of light.

But then why the screaming and utter terror about how she couldn’t breathe while in the dark?

Her nose pressed against his throat and she relaxed against him, her shivers turning into tremors, and the tremors slowly dying away as he soothed her. The rain soaked the two of them, pouring endless buckets down on the city of New Orleans.

This was their wedding night.

The thought struck Sebastian as utterly ludicrous. He’d really had no idea of what he was getting into when he’d married. He’d thought he’d marry Chelsea, they’d have a good time, buddy up for public appearances, and then pretty much ignore each other. Two strangers living in his big town house who occasionally had conversations and pretended to be married.