The Billionaire Takes a Bride (Billionaires and Bridesmaids, #3)(28)

Even taking over one of the bathrooms made her feel uncomfortable. It was odd to set up in a stranger’s house. Especially when it was a house that was so much bigger than her last apartment. The place she’d shared with Pisa was six hundred square feet and two tiny bedrooms. This one was three floors and many, many bedrooms, along with a media room, a formal dining room, a study, and a room she wasn’t allowed to go in.

Seriously. Sebastian had shown her around the place and then declared the room at the end of the hall off limits. It was even locked and everything.

And, okay, that was creepy. She even told him that and he looked chagrined. He told her it was a private study and messy and he’d show it to her when it was cleaned up. But still.

Maybe tonight she’d push the dresser in front of her door, just in case.

But as she settled in for the night and it grew late, she became increasingly agitated. She had the lights on in her room, but the blackout they’d had in New Orleans kept coming to mind and she didn’t feel safe. What if the lights went out again? Then she’d be in this strange place with no one familiar. The thought made worry start crashing through her, and by the time she crawled into her narrow, unfamiliar bed, she was practically trembling with fear despite the cheery light flooding the room.

She stared up at the ceiling for a good half hour, utterly terrified. The town house was silent. She could hear the occasional distant traffic outside, but this residential street was a lot quieter than her old apartment and she felt isolated. Scared.

She wondered what Sebastian was doing and if he’d mind company.

On her bad nights, she used to crawl into bed with Pisa for a sisterly snuggle. Nothing weird, just the comforting presence of knowing another living being was with her and that they’d protect her. But Pisa was in Austin now, and from the texts she’d gotten from her friend over the last week, she was loving it. She sat up in bed and reached for her phone on the bedside, contemplating a late-night text.

But she’d still be alone.

Again, she thought about Sebastian. He hadn’t minded sleeping with her back at the hotel. She wondered if she could impose on him again. Part of her was ashamed for being so weak, but the bigger part of her didn’t care. She just wanted the fear to go away.

So she crawled out of her unfamiliar bed and put on a pair of flannel pajama pants. Normally she slept in a tank top and panties, but she suspected Sebastian wouldn’t be a fan of that if she trotted into his room half-naked and wanting to share the blankets.

That was the good thing about Sebastian. He didn’t think with his dick, which made him safe.

Chelsea padded out of her room and down the brightly lit hallway, heading for Sebastian’s room. Not the locked “mystery” room but his bedroom. The door was shut and she knocked gently.

He opened it a moment later, dressed in an undershirt and boxers. A notepad was tucked in his hand, along with a pencil, and his dark hair looked tousled, as if he were getting ready for bed. “You okay?”

She wiggled her feet on the hardwood floors and clasped her hands in front of her breasts. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” At his surprised look, she added, “I’m a little freaked out about the new room and I know you’re safe.”

Sebastian studied her face, then nodded, opening the door a bit wider.

She crawled into his enormous bed, noting the decor here was just as sterile and gray as the rest of the house. Here, though, there were a dozen fluffy pillows to get lost in, and only one corner of the bed had been disturbed by Sebastian. She bounded onto the other side, feeling a bit like a kid with a sleepover, and grabbed a pillow. “I appreciate it, Basty.”

“Basty?” He snorted. “That’s worse than Nugget.”

She yawned and shrugged as he got back into bed, then snuggled down next to him. Sebastian was warm and safe, and she immediately relaxed. “You work on your similes, I’ll work on my nicknames.”

Chelsea was asleep before he even responded.





Chapter Twelve



Being married to Chelsea was messing with his head.

It had been a week since their impromptu wedding and so far it was a week of secrets, sneaking around, and blue balls.

Oh, and his house smelled like flowers.

Secrets, because Chelsea continually left the house without telling him where she was going, a big bag hung over one shoulder. She’d disappear during the daytime for about an hour, return, and then head straight to her soap making, where she’d put on a pair of headphones and rock out to music for hours while mixing soap recipes and then cutting bars. This week, she told him, was lilac week, and the house smelled like flowers. Tons of flowers. It permeated his clothing, to the point that guys were giving him weird looks at the gym.

Sneaking around, because when Chelsea wasn’t disappearing in the daytime, she was disappearing several nights out of the week, again with her bag. She didn’t volunteer where she was going, and every time he asked, she ignored him. Not rudely. She’d just wink and give a cheery laugh and say that it was part of their agreement, and if he wasn’t going to open his locked room, she sure wasn’t going to tell him where she was going.

Except his locked room was just full of drawings. Not particularly good drawings, either. And when she came home? Half the time she came home with bruises.

So to say he was concerned was an understatement.