Stay Toxic

Chapter 27

Iwake up in the dark, disoriented for a few moments, because I can tell the soft sheets on the four-poster bed are nothing like what I’d find in my own room.

Then I see him, leaning back on an armchair, watching me.

Everything comes back. Joseph, dragging me to his van.

I can’t believe he’d try to take me. There’s only one reason why he would: my mother said so. What was the next step in her plan, locking me up until I’m twenty-five? Or forcing me to marry Rob now?

I sit up, trying to make myself to breathe in and out, but I just can’t.

“Hey, hey, now.” I feel a shift on the bed as Sebastian sits and drags me onto his lap. “Tell me five things you see.”

“What?” I manage to croak.

“Things you see, list five of them. You’re panicking, love. It’s going to help.”

I shake my head. “It’s dark. I can’t see…I don’t see much.”

“You see enough. Go on.”

I wet my lip and force myself to focus. “Your—I see your hands. The lamp.” This would be considerably easier if it were on. I force myself to look farther, squinting. “I see your armchair. And the ridiculously expensive piano?”

I want to ask if he plays, but I can’t, I can barely inhale.

What is she going to do next? What will I do? I could disappear. Leave the country, like I planned to do shortly before my birthday. I have the cash from Caleb. That could be enough. But where would I go? What would I do?

“That’s it. Just one more,” he encourages.

“The curtains?”

“There you go. Now four things you can touch.”

“I’m not touching four things.”

“You absolutely are. Tell me about four sensations in your body right now.”

“You. Your shirt,” I specify. “My jeans under my palm? The sheets. They’re so soft.”

“You’re doing so well. What else?”

“Your…cock. You’re hard.”

“Well, excuse me, darling,” he says with a chuckle. “You’re on my lap. That happens.”

I laugh. “Your palm’s on my back. You’re rubbing it.”

“That’s five,” he says. “But good. You’re coming back.”

I feel a lot more settled already. I’m no longer hyperventilating, though I’m still terrified. I can feel myself shiver, my teeth grinding against each other.

“Now, three things you can hear.”

“Your heartbeat. Music, from downstairs. Laughter.”

“And two things you can smell.”

“I feel fine, you know,” I say. “Thank you for grounding me.”

He’s talked me out of most of the panic. I’m no longer quaking in fear, though I also know I need to do something to get out of my situation.

“Good. Now finish this: two things you can smell.”

I roll my eyes. “Vanilla, citrus, woodsy smoke. That’s your cologne, right?”

I’m very familiar with it, though I never tried to analyze it before. I could recognize him with my eyes close.

“Antidote, yes. You have a good nose. As it’s all me, that only counts as one. Keep going.”

I force my attention away from the heady scent, though it’s hard, with my face right on his shirt.

I sniff, and frown. “Cumin?”

“Amongst many other spices. That’s our Indian food cooling.”

My stomach grumbles a little, and I’m reminded I haven’t eaten anything since lunch with Tanya—and that was only a smoothie and a slice of pie. I wasn’t too hungry, with everything going on.

“Last one: one thing you can taste.”

“Rat poison, or something equally gross. I need to brush my teeth.”

“I have spare toothbrushes.”

“How did you learn the 5-4-3-2-1 method?” I wonder.

I can’t imagine Sebastian having panic attacks. My psychologist did share it in high school, but it’s hard to remember in the moment.

“I’m in med school, remember? Granted, I’m training to be a surgeon, not a shrink, but we take a few classes on mental health. I never thought it’d come in handy.”

He holds me wordlessly for a moment, but then, as I expected, he asks the question I knew would eventually come.

“What did she do to you? Your mother. You’ve explained a few things. I feel like I’m missing the bigger picture, though.”

He is; I’ve never told anyone everything Senator Cole did to me. The threats. The constant put-downs about my physical appearance, my mental capacities, everything that makes me me.

The cupboard.

“My parents were always a mess, but Mother was fond of Caleb, in her own way. While Dad was protective of me. So back when he was alive, I didn’t see it. She wouldn’t have done much to me. But then it started.”

I find myself saying it all, step by step, starting at the cold relationship between my parents, the toxic competitiveness between my father and brother, and finally, what happened after Dad died.

“It took her a while to figure out I was terrified of Joseph—her bodyguard, the guy who tried to take me today,” I explain. “When she did, she’d frequently threaten to leave me alone with him for a while. She knew he was leering at me and she didn’t care.” I shake my head. “Things got better in college. Mostly because I’d learned to obey.”

Sebastian is completely silent and still.

“I don’t know what’s come over me the last week. I rocked the boat. She was bound to react.”

I know her. Today doesn’t come as a surprise, and I only have myself to blame.

“I should give her a call.”

He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts it up.

“What happened to you over the last week,” Sebastian echoes, “is that you felt safe. You know you’ve found your place, among people who will protect you. You don’t need to call her. You never need to deal with her again.”

I sigh. “I only meant to show her she can’t dictate my every move, but I was always going to call her back. I need her to pay André’s and my tuition—you know, from my money, but she’s the trustee.”

“You don’t.”

“I do. Even if I get a job, I can’t afford Rothford, let alone Rothford and Julliard at the same time.”

“Hestia, both your and André’s tuition are covered for the rest of the year, ever since you mentioned your issue last week.”

I blink. I open my mouth and close it again. I think a good minute passes before I manage to say, “What?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “It’s just money, and I may not be a Cole, but I have plenty of it. You can’t possibly think I’d leave you at your mother’s mercy after what you shared?”

“But…but it’s a lot of money. And we’d barely met. You can’t have dropped hundreds of thousands on me. You can’t.”

“It’s done. If it makes you feel better, I technically didn’t need to pay Rothford. I just called in a favor.”

“Even so, Julliard must have been expensive as fuck.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s done.” He shrugs, like it’s just that simple.

“But why?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, my gorgeous little pervert. You’re mine.”