Chapter 6 – Sebastian
Chapter
Six
SEBASTIAN
I chat to Beth, the receptionist at the Donovan, Cook, and Hayes office, as she prepares to leave for the day. She’s used to me dropping in like this and always flirts with me when I perch myself on the edge of her desk and ask how she’s doing. I don’t read anything into that. Beth is the kind of girl that flirts with everyone—it’s just her way of being nice. Besides, she really is too young for me. She drinks her coffee out of a One Direction mug, for fuck’s sake.
I make my way through to the offices in back, pausing to check out the camera system as I go. As relatively recent events have shown us, you can’t be too careful when it comes to personal safety. Archangel security takes all its clients seriously, but this client is top of the list. These ordinary looking offices contain precious cargo, and I never want anyone to be able to hurt Samantha again. She insisted on no cameras inside the offices, for client privacy, but I did persuade her to accept the installation of panic buttons in every room.
If it was up to me and Gabriel, we’d probably wrap her up in cotton wool and lock her away in a padded room to keep her safe for the rest of her life, but she’s fiercely independent. Before Gabriel and the life she leads now, she spent years married to a psychopathic cunt who fooled the world into thinking he was a loving husband. He even fooled me, which I’ll never forgive myself for. What she went through would have broken other women, but Sam came out of it stronger than ever. She’s a fucking walking miracle, that kid of mine.
I smile at an unexpected but familiar sound from her office—baby Max letting us all know that he’s in the building. This was supposed to be one of Sam’s days off. She usually only comes in on Mondays while she’s phasing back in from maternity leave, and I suspect I’ll be in for a grilling now. Fuck. Might as well get it over with.
I find her trying to change a nappy while also talking on her mobile. The phone is tucked under her chin, and Max is on her desk, kicking his pudgy legs in the air and squalling.
“Yes, I do understand that the judge is a busy man,” she says, her businesslike tone not at all affected by the fact that she’s wrestling a baby. “And as you can tell, I’m a busy woman. And yes, again, I’m also aware that it’s almost six on a Friday—which means we’ve now been waiting all week to hear from him. I’ll expect a call back within the hour, or I’ll be taking this matter further. He might be a judge, but he’s not God, and rules apply to him as well. Goodbye.”
“Trouble?” I ask, taking over for her on the nappy front. I missed out on all of this with Sam—she only came back into my life when she was twelve and her mum died—and I find that I weirdly like it. I chuck Max under the chin and he gurgles at me. He looks innocent enough, but some sixth sense warns me that there’s trouble afoot, and sure enough, I manage to dodge out of the way just as he sends a spectacular arc of pee flying up into the air. Nice try, little fella.
“Nothing I can’t handle. Thanks, Dad. Like you, I enjoy a good fight, just different kinds. What are you doing here anyway? Not that I don’t appreciate the help.” I finish the cleanup routine and fit Max snugly back into his little sleepsuit, then strap him into his seat and rock him gently. He’s tired but battling against it. Enjoying a fight must be in the genes. “Can’t a doting dad pay an impromptu visit to his favorite daughter every now and then?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m your only daughter, and yes, of course you can. Except I saw you yesterday for lunch, and you didn’t know I was here today because it was a last-minute thing. Channeling my inner Sherlock Holmes, I’d deduce that you’re not here to see me at all. Nick’s off sick and you two aren’t close, so that leaves… Oh, let me think—could it be Lauren?”
I shrug. I actually feel fucking embarrassed about it. When it comes to my love life, Samantha acts more like my disapproving mum than my kid. “I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation, ma’am. But if I was here to see Lauren, is she in?”
“Yes, but two things to mention—one, you’re out of luck because she has a hot date tonight with a cello player. And more importantly, she’s with a client, and it’s a difficult case, so don’t go barging around like a bull in a china shop. There’s a traumatized woman in there with her, one who is trying to find the courage to leave her abusive husband—and you don’t exactly give off a non-threatening vibe to anyone who doesn’t know you.”
She’s right. If I had my way, I’d beat the shit out of any man who raised a hand to a woman or child, break every bone in their worthless, cowardly bodies, and dump them in a landfill with the rest of the garbage. Men who abuse their families are scum of the lowest order, and if I ever retire from Archangel, I’ll make it my life’s mission to hunt them down for free. Vigilante granddad. But I understand that I don’t exactly look reassuring from the outside, what with my tattoos and intimidating size. “Fair enough, love.”
She pats my arm reassuringly. “You’re a big softie at heart, Dad, and one of the most protective people to ever walk the planet. Looks can be deceptive. But I have to say—this thing with Lauren, whatever it is?” I stay silent. I have no idea what it is either. “Please don’t fuck it up. She’s a friend, and she’s a great lawyer. A real asset to the firm. It’s your own business if you want to be a manwhore, but don’t drag me into it, okay?”
“That’s not fair, Sam. Do you know how many women have been in my life since Max was born? I’ll save you the effort—none.”
“Okay. Well, I didn’t know that.” She smiles up at me, and her big brown eyes melt away any hurt at her accusation, no matter how true it might be. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re finally growing up, Sebastian Donovan? Should I be calling the paramedics?”
“Cheeky madam. Still on for next Tuesday?”
“That depends. Are you still cooking that green Thai curry?”
I laugh and head out of her office. I love cooking, especially for my girl. It’s one of the greatest joys in the world to see someone so special to you enjoying food you’ve prepared for them. I wonder what Lauren’s favorite dish is and whether I could make it for her. I bet whoever she’s seeing tonight isn’t as good in the kitchen—or anywhere else—as I am. Why the fuck is she going on a date at all?
I stop dead in my tracks in the corridor and slap myself on the forehead. What the hell? I came here to clear the air, to get her out of my system. I planned to see her, prove to myself she was nothing special, and move on. Not to plan a romantic night in with her. Maybe Sam’s right—she should call the paramedics.
I don’t have long to think about my impending mental decline, because a human whirlwind comes steaming down the hallway and crashes right into my legs. At least I’m assuming it’s human from the fact that it has a mop of curly blond hair, two arms, and two legs. One of the arms is encased in a plaster cast, and I’m careful to avoid it as I squat down on the floor next to the kid. There’s a playroom set up for children at the back of the building, where they can hang out while their mums and dads sort out the grown-up stuff, but he must have got bored. He looks the type—fizzing with energy and mischief.
He’s maybe eight or nine, his big blue eyes looking up at me with a mix of concern and curiosity. “Bloody hell, son, where are you going in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere. I was just seeing if my new trainers had superpowers.” I glance down at the box-fresh white tennis shoes at the end of his skinny legs. “Right. Well, looks to me like they do. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast in my life.”
His face lights up with delight, those cautious eyes now bright. “Honest? You’re not bullshitting me?”
“Nicky,” a woman calls from down the corridor. “You know what I’ve told you about that word. I’m so sorry, is he bothering you?”
“Nah,” I reply. “No problem.” She nods but doesn’t go back inside the office. She hovers in the doorway, keeping a careful eye on her lad. The kid pulls a face and whispers to me, “That’s my mum. She says she doesn’t like swearing, but she does it all the time when she thinks I’m not listening, so I call bullshit on that one.”
I laugh and help him to his feet. He swipes blond curls away from his face and looks me up and down without any shame. “You’re a big man. I think you’re even bigger than my dad.”
“Well, you’ll be a big man one day too. It just takes time and a bit of effort. Maybe a few steaks. What happened to your arm, pal?”
His faces shuts down in an instant, all that energy gone, and he stares intensely at the floor. “I fell over. I’m really clumsy.”
I suck in a harsh breath as a ball of pressure slams into my chest, hitting me as hard as one of Alex’s punches. Yeah, I was a really clumsy kid too. I was always accidentally falling on my dad’s fists, boots, and lit cigarettes. One time I was so fucking clumsy, I tied myself to the radiator and beat my own back with a cane until it bled. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your mum, eh?”
As we approach, her eyes fly over him as though she’s checking for new injuries. She’s a pretty woman, petite with fair hair and a cute button nose. Exactly the type those assholes often seem to go for. There are dark circles around her eyes, and she’s wearing a cuffed long-sleeved blouse buttoned right up to her throat. Assuming she’s not Amish, I can think of two reasons for that—the husband is a controlling bastard who’s told her to keep herself covered, or she’s hiding bruises. Fuck, looking at the nervous way she’s chewing on her lip and wringing her hands together, could be both.
The idea of what these two are going through makes me so mad I want to punch something, but I make an extra effort to be quiet and respectful as we all walk back into Lauren’s office. I knew it was hers, obviously, but it still takes my breath away when I see her again. She has her curls pinned up, and she’s wearing a plain little black dress that should look perfectly businesslike, but on her looks like pure sin. I nod at her once, abruptly, and look away again. This really isn’t the time for getting yet another unwanted hard-on.
“Seb. I see you’ve met Nicky, and this is his mom, Caroline.” I consider offering her my hand to shake, but I suspect she’ll bolt at the slightest movement. Being in a room with a man like me is probably difficult enough for her. “Nice to meet you, Caroline. Sebastian Donovan. You’ve got a great lad there.”
Her face lights up, and she tugs him to her for a cuddle. He pretends to hate it, but it’s obvious he’s proud and pleased. That’s what these two should always be doing—beaming away like this. It burns me that some bullying twat is reducing them to rubble just because he can. “Look, this is undoubtedly a complicated situation, Caroline, and we’ve only just met—but what can I do to help?”
Shock crosses her delicate, worried features, followed quickly by suspicion. “Are you a lawyer too?”
“I’m not. I leave that to the clever types like Lauren here. But there are other ways to be helpful. Maybe if you ever need protection or a secure place to stay? Even if Nicky here fancies a kickabout with a football in a safe space—a space where he won’t be so clumsy —then you could call me. I don’t expect payment, and I won’t ever tell you what to do. Only you can decide what’s right for you. But if you need me, I’ll be there, no strings attached.”
I’ve avoided Lauren’s intense gaze ever since I walked into this room, but I can feel her staring at me. I have no clue if I’ve overstepped here or if she thinks I’m a prick for trying to be a white knight with one of her clients. I turn around, expecting to find a mocking smile or a cynical quirk of her eyebrows. I’m completely unprepared for what I actually find—a tortured look in her eyes and tears oozing from their corners. She shakes her head and swipes the tears away, and before I can say anything, she waves me off. I hate seeing her distressed and fight the urge to leapfrog over that desk and take her in my arms.
“Caroline, don’t dismiss what Seb is offering,” she says, her voice unsteady. “I’m a lawyer, and I believe in the legal process. I know you haven’t decided what to do yet, and Seb’s right, only you can decide that—but I hope you agree to move forward with us. I’m confident we can get you out of this situation using the courts—but from what you’ve told me so far, there’s a chance that things might get more… complicated.” Her eyes are on Nicky as she speaks, and she’s obviously being careful about what she says around him.
Caroline pulls her boy closer. “And you trust him, Lauren? You trust this man?”
I’m interested in the answer to that one too. In this situation, with this woman and her kid, I am one hundred percent trustworthy. With women, in my life so far? Definitely not, and I’m guessing Lauren might know that about me already. She and Sam will have talked. Can she separate that from everything else?
Lauren looks intently at me, as though she’s measuring up every scrap of my soul, counting every grain of decency. “I do, yes. I trust him, and I think you should too. Do I have your permission to discuss your case with him?”
Caroline nods gently, a barely there gesture that reminds me of a sparrow pecking for food. “Yes. If you think it could help, then yes. Now, we’d better go. He’s busy in the city today, but if I’m away from home for too long, one of his men will tell him. Thank you. Both of you.”
Lauren asks her to look at some paperwork before she leaves, and I use the time to crouch down in front of Nicky. I take a pen off the desk and scrawl down my number. Then I gently raise his arm and tuck the scrap of paper beneath his cast, where it fits flat and snug and hidden. “That’s our secret, Nicky. Nobody will see that there, but if they do, you tell them it’s Dua Lipa’s number, okay? I’m also going to give that to your mum, and maybe we could get you a phone of your own that nobody else knows about. Just for you, so you can call me whenever you like.”
“Will it have games on it?”
“Sure. Now, I’m going to give you some advice, all right, kid?”
He experiments with his cast, satisfied that the paper is concealed, and nods. “Yeah.”
I sweep back his unruly curls and look at him full-on. I want him to remember what I’m about to say and wish somebody had cared enough to say it to me when I was his age.
“Nicky, if ever you feel like you’re in danger, like someone is going to hurt you, I want you to run, okay? I know we’re told we’re supposed to be brave and fight. But fighting isn’t always the best idea. When someone much bigger or stronger wants to hurt us, we need to run. We run, we find a safe space, and we hide. We call for help, and we survive. Because when we survive, son, we get stronger. And when we get stronger, we get our revenge. I’m not making this up, it’s not bullshit, I promise—because what’s happening to you and your mum once happened to me, when I was a kid. But I survived. I got stronger. I got my revenge.”
His eyes shine with curiosity, and I guess he’s imagining guns blazing and action heroes swooping through broken windows on ropes. “How did you get your revenge, Seb?”
“I lived, Nicky. I built a whole world for myself where I feel safe. And that, my little buddy, is the sweetest revenge of all.”