Chapter 8 #2
What does he expect me to say?
I understood this man’s power over the surrounding people.
Clearly, he was used to being obeyed without question.
What had he said earlier? Rule number one was to obey him.
I shivered again.
I needed to calm down. I didn’t want to believe he could carry me off without protest. But I wasn’t so sure.
It was ludicrous.
He was just a man.
That was all.
A powerful, incredibly handsome, obscenely wealthy, and obnoxiously influential…man.
He palmed my shoulders then ran his hands down my arms. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”
Did I want to feel the warmth from his body as it clung to the fabric?
Fuck no. I was already unbalanced as it was.
Every nerve in my body screamed, Run!
Run and don’t look back.
Internally, I sighed. Run and do what? Run all the way back to the suffocating safety of my mother in New York? No. Absolutely not.
Stiffening my shoulders, I wrapped my arms around my middle and stepped back. “I’m fine.”
“Who was that man from earlier?”
“What man?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance. “The man who put his arm around you outside the museum.”
Given his strangely jealous tone, it took me a moment to realize what he was talking about.
My mouth dropped open. “You mean Mark?”
“Mark who?”
“Mark Hanson. He’s the photographer I’m working with.”
He nodded. “And where can I find this…Mark?”
“Why?”
“It’s none of your concern.”
I threw my palms up. “Okay, I’m lost. It's definitely my concern. How could it not be? What do you want with Mark?”
Keeping his arms crossed, almost as if he were restraining himself, he leaned in. “Very well. I intend to inform him that if he touches you again, I’ll break his arms. Satisfied?”
My eyes watered as I stared up at him, afraid to blink.
I cleared my throat before attempting to speak. “Why…why would you say something like that?”
Sebastian reached around my neck, gripping my hair and pulling my head back. “I thought it only fair to warn him not to touch what belongs to me.”
His lips crashed down on mine in a possessive kiss.
It was pure brutality, devoid of any tenderness.
Wrenching free, I clutched at the chain around my neck and yanked. The clasp broke free.
I shoved the diamond against his chest. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but I want nothing to do with it.”
This whole charade had gone on long enough.
Twisting my shoulders, I moved past him, intent on returning to the safety of the backstage area.
Before I had taken two steps, Sebastian snatched my wrist and pulled me back into his arms.
I pushed against his chest. “I’ll scream.”
“Go ahead. There isn’t a single person here who would risk my wrath to save you.”
He had called my bluff, knowing there was very little chance I’d draw much attention amidst such an illustrious crowd.
I struggled but couldn’t break his hold.
“Let me go,” I whispered through clenched teeth.
He pivoted. With his arm tight around my shoulders, he marched me around the edge of the crowd and back through the heavy curtains. He ignored the staff that bustled around, getting ready for the start of the show, and pushed his way to the back of the room and into my small studio.
Thrusting me over the threshold, he ground out, “Where is your phone?”
In a flash, I worried he would take my phone from me.
It was not a rational thought, and yet something told me it was entirely possible he was just arrogant enough to try. “Why do you—”
“Where. Is. Your. Phone?”
My body trembling, I pointed to my purse lying on a nearby table.
After dumping the contents out, he picked up my phone and handed it to me. “Enter your passcode.”
My hands shook so badly I had to re-enter the simple number several times before the phone unlocked.
There was something about his icy, calm demeanor that deeply unsettled me. As if taking control of a woman’s phone wasn’t the least bit of an overreach for him.
He took it back from me and scrolled to the contacts where he entered his information.
Then, taking out his own phone, he transferred my contact information to it. He then tossed the phone onto the turned-out pile from my purse and focused his glare back on me. I could practically feel the cage bars closing around me, and I was helpless to stop it.
He lifted his wrist to check his Rolex. “The show is about to begin. It should only last for thirty minutes. I’ll give you one hour to say your goodbyes and pack up. Then you will meet my driver outside this museum at precisely 8:45 p.m. He will take you to me.”
My stomach dropped, cold and sudden, like missing a step in the dark.
He was insane.
There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d meet him anywhere.
Alone.
At night.
In a foreign city.
Before I could tell him where he could shove his demands, he grabbed my waist, yanking me flush against his chest.
“I suggest you remember rule number one.”
Don’t disobey him.
He gave me another harsh kiss, which bruised my lips, and then he disappeared.
No longer caring about the precious dress, I slowly sank to my knees.
I’d just been claimed by Sebastian Diamanti, a man who could ruin my career with a flick of his wrist.
Claimed by a man who didn’t ask permission.
And I had no idea how to stop him.