Sebastian turns to the door and looks up slightly. It’s then I notice a small blinking light above the door
A camera.
After a moment, there’s a clunk and the sound of metal sliding against metal before the door is pulled open.
A man in black pants and a fitted black tee fills the doorway, the material stretching tight over his chest and biceps. My neck tilts as I look up, and up.
Holy crap.
He’s taller than both Sebastian and Easton.
Peeking out from beneath the tight sleeve of his shirt, an intricate pattern of black ink swirls over his light brown skin.
“Mr. Reed, Mr. Hale is waiting for you in his office,” he says, his deep voice tinged with a slight accent.
Sebastian nods and enters the building.
Easton doesn’t move, so I take the hint and follow Sebastian inside. The hall is dim, and I jump when the door shuts behind us with a bang, the heavy locks sliding back in place.
We head deeper into the building, which is in no way as dull as the exterior we entered from. Though, the back entrance probably isn’t the best way to judge an establishment, and it’s certainly true in this case.
Dark floorboards line the corridor as Sebastian leads the way, clearly knowing exactly where he’s going. A smoky black wallpaper runs the length of the left wall, its bronze pattern both elaborate and elegant.
Sebastian stops in front of a closed door with a man standing guard. He’s dressed much the same as the one who let us in, only with the addition of a black suit jacket, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s because there wasn’t one that fit the other guy.
He nods at Sebastian and opens the door for us.
The same dark timber flooring flows from the corridor into the office, and I hesitate in the doorway as Sebastian enters. But with him being the only one I know, or at leastfeellike I know, I follow after him with slow steps. My trust in him might be misguided, but it’s the only thing I have to go on right now. I can’t deny a part of me feels safe with him.
A sizable seating area sits off to the right, although it does nothing to crowd the expansive space. The dark brown leather couches surround a long glass coffee table, whilst a bar covers half of the wall behind it. Glass bottles line the shelves, mostly filled with different variations and colours of amber liquid.
The faint hint of cigar smoke lingers in the air, burning my nostrils, and my stomach revolts at the smell. The times he came for me smelling of wood notes and spices were the worst, and I knew I wouldn’t make it through the night without a new scar,or several. It wasn’t that he was ever gentle, but those nights, I felt the anger radiating from him as he used my body to take out his frustrations, the scent of cigars rolling off him and sticking to my skin.
He’s not here.
He’s not here.
“Sebastian Reed, what do I owe the pleasure?”
My head swings in the other direction, landing on the man sitting behind a grand oak desk. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands together, and gestures to the empty chairs in front of him.
The door shuts, and I turn as Easton takes up a place beside it, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. I hadn’t realised he had followed, but it shouldn’t surprise me, especially after everything that happened in my apartment.
Unsure what to do, I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands grasping the straps of my backpack.
Do I follow Sebastian?
Stay where I am?
Without looking back at Easton, I can feel the weight of his stare, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of showing a reaction. From what I’ve seen of Easton so far, it’s clear he’s protective of Sebastian, and I’m glad he has someone like that by his side, but I’m not going to let Easton ruin this deal. This is it. There are no more chances after this. If I don’t make it out the other side of this thing with a passport and a plane ticket in hand, it’s only a matter of time before I fall back intohishands, and I can’t let that happen.
Sebastian stops just behind the chair and turns partly in my direction, his cold mask firmly in place. His gaze drops to my feet and my awkward stance as I lean to the side, trying to take the pressure off my injured ankle, then it shifts to the chair beside him.
Cautiously, I make my way towards them, trying to draw the least amount of attention possible. Careful of my ankle, I sit in the plush chair beside Sebastian and put my bag between my legs.
My gaze flicks between the two men, neither of them speaking.
Getting a closer look at the stranger, I notice just how striking he is. His tailored three-piece suit is a deep charcoal and nothing short of pristine. A short-trimmed beard frames his face, and his dark hair is swept back, but that’s not what grasps my attention. He has the longest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man, on anyone for that matter.