22
Mia
That was an unexpected event. My cheeks must resemble tomatoes right now. I can”t believe I just let that happen. The way he made my body feel was unlike anything I”d experienced before. Dancing has always been my escape, the one thing where I let my guard down, and now I”ve done the same with Sebastiano. As we walk hand in hand to the dining room for dinner, I can feel the wetness between my legs, a reminder of our heated encounter.
The crimson hue spreads down my neck as we round the corner, and I hear Marie humming while setting trays of food on the table, stopping me in my tracks. My hand slips out of Sebastiano”s, halting him as well.
”I can”t go in there like this,” I tell him, my voice doing very little to hide my embarrassment.
He looks me up and down, then gives me a cocky smirk when he notices my predicament. Without skipping a beat, he begins unbuttoning his black button-down shirt. ”You can wear this,” he says casually, popping open the last button.
”But... I still need to clean up a little,” I protest, feeling the heat of embarrassment engulfing me.
”No, you don”t. This is your punishment for lying, remember?” His words leave no room for argument, and I know deep down that he”s right. Now, I stand here, watching him, clad in a black fitted undershirt that only accentuates his tattoo-covered muscular arms, adding to the dampness between my legs at the sight of him.
Knowing I won”t win this argument, I pull his shirt on, which comes down to mid-thigh on me, and begin rolling up the sleeves that swallow my arms. But Sebastiano steps directly in front of me and starts buttoning the shirt himself. His scent overwhelms me, clouding my mind and making it feel a little foggy, like I can”t think straight.
His shirt carries a fragrance so intoxicating that I barely notice when he takes my hand again, leading us toward the table. It”s a blend of woodsy amber undertones and a hint of expensive cologne, wrapping around me like a blanket.
The second we take our seats, the aroma of garlic fills the air, making my mouth water. My stomach, apparently with a mind of its own, growls loudly enough to capture both Sebastiano”s and Marie’s attention.
Marie chuckles softly before placing a piece of garlic-grilled chicken with pesto zucchini ribbons on my plate. “Eat up, Mia Cara,” Marie says warmly.
Sebastiano wastes no time and digs in eagerly. After a few bites, I set my fork down, realizing I”ve eaten enough.
“Another hunger strike?” he asks, peering up at me.
“It’s not a hunger strike. I”m full,” I protest.
He puts his fork down, his elbows on the table, and folds his hands together. “You’re telling me that after two bites, you’re full? Even after your stomach was practically screaming just a few minutes ago?” he asks.
“It’s all I should have,” I murmur more to myself than to him.
Sebastiano scoots his chair out to turn toward me, then pulls my chair so I am directly between his legs. “What aren”t you telling me?” he asks, his eyes not leaving mine. ”And don”t lie to me,” he adds.
I feel more exposed than I can handle, so I look down, no longer able to hold his gaze.
Memories of the past begin to flood my mind. I recall the times when Karen would report to my dad that I was gaining weight and needed to be ”taught a lesson.” It meant days of starvation, surviving on mere scraps of food. Those scraps weren”t about nourishment; they were about control, about asserting dominance over me, making sure I knew my place in their world.
Karen”s twisted mind would find pleasure in leaving a candy bar next to my bed, knowing I hadn”t eaten in days. It was her cruel game, a manipulation tactic to show me she could turn my father against me. She”d then run to dad, accusing me of sneaking junk food, making me out as the disobedient one. Though I know this situation is different, the memories still sting, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
Karen”s words would replay in my mind: ”You”re not hungry. You”re just bored.” It was a mantra she drilled into me, her twisted way to justify her cruelty. A few bites, she”d say, were enough to lessen the hunger pains.
“Where’d you go?” Sebastiano asks, pulling me back from my reverie. I find his gaze fixed on mine, a hint of concern in his eyes. ”I”m right here,” I assure him, but he”s not convinced. ”You drifted off somewhere,” he says, tapping my forehead lightly.
I know he won”t let it slide, so I decide to open up a little. ”Food wasn”t exactly a given in my dad”s house,” I begin.
“Like you didn’t have money for food?” he asks, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“He always had the money. It just wasn’t a luxury afforded to me,” I reply, hesitating on how much to reveal.
”What the hell did you say?” he interrupts, his tone sharp with anger. Sensing his rising tension, I try to downplay it. ”It”s nothing... Nothing to worry about,” I say with a small smile, hoping to diffuse the situation.
His fists ball on his lap, and the fury in his gaze makes me cringe. “Did he starve you? Is this why you barely eat?” he asks, his tone taking on a sinister edge.
“No, not like that,” I lie.
“So then tell me,” he demands, and I shrink back from him. His scrutiny feels unrelenting, overwhelming.
“It”s nothing,” I tell him, desperation creeping into my voice. “Really,” I continue, pleading for him to understand.
“Fine, if you won”t tell, then why the hell should I care? It’s not like you’ll be here long enough for it to be my problem,” he yells back at me, his words hitting me like a punch to the stomach. He stands up abruptly and marches off, leaving me sitting here dumbfounded.
When I hear the front door slam shut, I realize he”s left, and I feel a surge of panic, yet I feel like I can breathe again. I quickly run upstairs, seeking solace in the shower, hoping to wash away the conflict of emotions swirling inside me.
Today, I”ve had ”Slide” by the Goo Goo Dolls playing on repeat. It”s been stuck in my head all day. With the evening approaching, I figure it”s time for a shower before dinner, even though I haven”t really exerted myself dancing. It”s just something to do to pass the time while being cooped up all day.
It”s been almost a week since our argument, and I”ve barely seen Sebastiano since. I”m still sorting through the messiness of it all, wondering how things got so out of hand. It”s moments like these that make me understand why my dad always told me to keep quiet—it seems like no one really cares anyway.
My feelings for Sebastiano are murky at best, but I”m more bothered by how quickly everything fell apart between us and how he left so abruptly.
When I”m not in the gym, I find myself gravitating towards Marie. She”s the only person I really talk to around here. Occasionally, Nico drops by, and I get a few random texts from Cameron. Marie seems to feel sorry for me every time I sit alone at the dinner table. She won’t outright say it, but her eyes show what her mouth won”t. Roman continues to cook as if we”re expecting a crowd, not just one lonely diner in the dining room. I”ve even asked him to scale back or offer the leftover food to the guards around the house, but he insists on cooking a feast every night.
The song fades out as I finish my last spin, lost in my thoughts. I bend down to grab my phone and water when, suddenly, the door bursts open.
I”m not sure if Sebastiano was expecting to find me here or not, judging by the confusion on his face. ”Hi,” I offer, feeling awkward as soon as the words leave my lips.
”Hello,” he responds casually.
”I... I was just leaving,” I stutter, feeling the need to escape the uncomfortable tension in the room.
”Well, don”t leave on my account,” he says casually.
With my water bottle and phone in hand, I make my way to the door. ”I wasn”t. I”m done in here,” I say, attempting to walk past him. But he grabs my elbow, stopping me in my tracks.
I jerk my arm back as though his touch stings, taking a few steps backward. But he counters each of my movements until he closes the distance between us. His scent surrounds me, making me lightheaded with desire once again. I can”t think straight when he”s this close.
My breath catches in my throat, and suddenly, I”m at a loss for words. I can”t be this close to him. Both of his arms encircle me, caging me against him and the wall.
”Please don”t leave,” he murmurs so low I can barely hear him.
”Why should I stay?” I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His dark orbs lock onto mine. ”So, I can do this,” he replies.
My question dies on my lips as his mouth claims mine, leaving me breathless. Instinctively, I lean into him, surrendering to the moment. One arm snakes around my waist while the other grips my neck, tugging my hair. He’s not rough but firm, showing me he’s in control.
Sebastiano pulls back from the kiss, and his forehead meets mine. His brown eyes search mine, though I”m not sure what he”s looking for. Without his arm around me for support, I feel like my knees might give way.
“You don”t get to come in here and kiss me,” I whisper, pulling back slightly.
”Why not?” he asks, his tone laced with cockiness. I fight the urge to smile at his antics and try to wiggle out of his hold. But before I can fully break away, he pulls me back towards him.
”Fine,” he sighs, running a hand down his face. ”I didn”t mean to yell at you. I just don”t want to see you starving yourself, okay?”
”I’m not starving myself,” I say, meeting his gaze head-on.
”Good, because I”ll feed you myself if I see you doing that,” he replies, his tone oddly protective. “I’ve seen one person wither away, and I can”t see that again.”
”Who?” I ask softly.
He responds with a half-smile. ”Wouldn”t you like to know?”
I roll my eyes, ”well, I wouldn”t ask if I didn”t want to know, now, would I?”
He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. ”Maybe it”s more fun to keep you guessing.”
”Please tell me?” I plead, my voice delicate, hoping he”ll open up to me.
His expression reveals little, but he releases me and runs a hand through his chocolate locks. With his back turned to me, he speaks in a low voice, barely audible. ”My mom,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. I step closer, placing my hand on his back for comfort. ”It was cancer,” he continues, ”it takes everything from you until there”s nothing left.”
”I”m so sorry, Sebastiano,” I offer sympathetically, my heart aching for his pain. Sadly, I, too, know what it’s like to lose a parent, and I wouldn”t wish that on anyone. It’s a pain that never truly goes away; it just gets easier to mask. But seeing him like this, even for a fleeting moment, reminds me of my own struggles with loss.
He turns quickly, his grip firm as he takes hold of my hand, which seems to be comforting him. ”Don”t be sorry for me,” he says firmly, ”It was a long time ago.”
His sudden movement startles me, but I don”t pull away.
”Do you want to talk about it?” I ask gently, offering a sympathetic ear. Sebastiano doesn”t seem keen on revisiting old wounds, but I want him to know that I”m here for him if he ever wants to share.
”No, I don”t,” he responds with a sly smirk, quickly looking away and abruptly changing the subject. ”Now, are you done ignoring me?”
“You ignored me all week, not the other way around,” I protest, my voice betraying my hurt and frustration.
”Hmm, that”s not how I see it, and I”m usually right,” he jokes sarcastically, but beneath his words, there”s a layer of something I can”t quite grasp, as if he”s trying to hide something.
I arch an eyebrow, a little caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor and follow his lead to make the situation lighter between us. ”And since when do you care about me?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest, daring him to answer.
A cocky smirk tugs at his lips as he retorts, ”I don”t care, but I need to keep you alive long enough to get my title. Otherwise, who would I be stuck with, listening to the same damn song on repeat all day long?” His teasing tone is laced with a hint of playfulness, revealing a side of him that I hadn”t expected.
I decide to play along and pinch his cheeks playfully. ”Aww, does wittle Bastian Wastian care about his wittle wife, now?” I tease, emphasizing the exaggerated baby talk. A faint pink blush dusts his olive-toned cheeks at my words, a reaction I hadn”t anticipated.
”Don”t ever call me that again,” he responds, his tone severe, but the playful smirk lingering on his lips gives him away.
I can”t help but tease him further. ”I think I”ll refer to you now as wittle Bastian Wastian,” I tell him, unable to contain my laughter.
He advances toward me like a lion stalking its prey. ”I assure you, Piccolina, there”s nothing little about me,” he says before gripping my hips and lifting me. My legs instantly wrap around his waist, placing my hands on his shoulders. His lips crash against mine in a fiery kiss that sends my mind into a whirlwind.