Chapter 21
Once again, I wake to an empty bed, and panic shoots through me as I’m flooded with flashbacks of Sebastian’s abandonment.
But when I stretch my arm across the vast expanse of the mattress, the sheets still hold a trace of warmth, and my pulse settles. He hasn’t been gone for long, and I’m in his suite. He’s not running away again.
A throat clears, and I jerk upright to find Saint leaning in the entrance to the bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. He’s already dressed in yesterday’s clothes, his expression set in the scowl he reserves for situations he can’t control.
“Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” I mutter, pulling the sheet up higher over my bare chest. I rub sleep from my eyes, trying to process being awake. “What time is it?”
Gabriel had tried to stuff Saint into a guest room last night, but he refused to leave me alone and opted to sleep on the couch in the front room of Sebastian’s suite instead. The fact that Sebastian has a whole apartment inside the Rockford Manor still boggles my mind.
“Almost nine.” Saint pushes off from the doorway, stepping into the room.
The suite’s sitting area connects to the bedroom through an open archway, through which I can see the couch where Saint spent the night.
A pillow and a folded blanket sit on the back, the corners military tight.
Saint and I both learned not to leave an impact on the places we stayed growing up, lest we be kicked out.
“Gabriel says breakfast is almost ready,” Saint continues, kicking at the foot of the bed. “Apparently, the Rockfords eat together like some kind of Norman Rockwell painting.”
My stomach knots at the thought. Meeting Sebastian’s family en masse over a cozy cottage breakfast sounds about as fun as being thrown into the deep end of a pool when I never learned how to swim.
The bathroom door opens, and Sebastian emerges in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his scarred chest, catching the morning light.
My mouth goes dry at the sight.
“Morning.” Ignoring Saint’s presence in his room, Sebastian focuses on me with a warmth that brings a blush to my cheeks. “Did you sleep okay? After…”
“Yeah,” I say, not wanting to revisit last night’s breakdown in front of my friend. “Better than I expected.”
“About breakfast.” Sebastian crosses to a built-in wardrobe, pulling out clothes. “You don’t have to eat with everyone if you’re not comfortable. My family can be… a lot. I can have breakfast sent up here instead.”
The offer tempts me. Hiding away with Sebastian sounds more appealing than facing a table full of strangers who know more about me than I do about them. But I’ve done enough hiding.
“It’s fine.” I push back the covers. “We’ll eat with everyone.”
“You sure?” Sebastian pauses, a shirt half-buttoned. “They’re nosy and they have no boundaries. You don’t owe them anything.”
“I’m sure.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “No special treatment needed.”
Saint snorts. “Special treatment? We’re in a literal mansion, Micah.”
I flip him off without looking, and he laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in the room.
“Go shower.” Saint jerks his chin toward the bathroom. “You stink of sex.”
Heat floods my face. “I do not.”
“Do, too.” Saint wrinkles his nose. “And I had to listen to it for the first half of the night, so hurry up. I need coffee.”
“We were quiet,” I protest, though the memory of Sebastian’s hands on me, his body moving over mine in the limited privacy of his bedroom, makes me wonder how quiet we actually were.
“Not quiet enough,” Saint snorts. “Chop, chop. I’m starving, and I want to experience how the other half lives.”
As I pass, Sebastian draws me over to kiss the top of my head. “I had your clothes cleaned. They’re sitting on the counter, along with a fresh toothbrush. Use whatever you want in the bathroom.”
Ignoring my best friend, I rise onto my toes and pull Sebastian down for a proper kiss. “You should have invited me to shower with you when you got up.”
Fake gagging noises come from Saint, but Sebastian smiles. “I’ll do so next time.”
With a final kiss, I shuffle off into the bathroom, which is bigger than my bedroom at home, all marble and gleaming fixtures.
The shower alone could fit three people, with multiple showerheads that spray from different angles. I stand beneath the hot water, letting it pound away the lingering tension in my muscles.
The toiletries lined up on a glass shelf are unfamiliar brands with French names I can’t pronounce, and when I step out, the towel wraps around me, thick and soft as a cloud.
More evidence that I’ve stepped into a world where even the basics are luxurious beyond reason.
I dress, unwrapping a fresh pair of boxers in my size and pulling on my cleaned jeans and favorite hoodie, soft from too many washes. Comfort clothes, and probably out of place for what billionaires wear to breakfast.
Sebastian’s waiting when I emerge, dressed in a button-up shirt and dark jeans, devastatingly handsome, especially so early in the morning.
“Ready?” He offers his hand.
I take it, threading my fingers through his. “As I’ll ever be.”
In the sitting room, Saint shrugs into his jacket, slipping his phone into his back pocket and grabbing his bag. Always ready to make a fast escape if needed. “About time. I’m starving.”
The corridors of Rockford Manor form a maze I could never navigate alone. We pass closed doors and open sitting rooms, artwork that probably belongs in museums, and windows framing the sprawling grounds beyond.
Saint walks a step behind us, his posture rigid, body positioned to guard my back from potential threats.
The dining room, when we reach it, is massive. A long mahogany table dominates the space, surrounded by high-backed chairs that wouldn’t be out of place in a palace. Morning sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in golden light.
A quick check of the corners of the room reveals hidden security cameras, and my stomach does a flip before I remember that these are Sebastian’s.
The Rockford family is already gathered, their hum of conversation faltering as we enter. I recognize some from yesterday’s brief introductions. Milo sits straight-backed and poised, assessing me with cool curiosity. Phoenix perches on what must be his mate’s lap, a picture of feline contentment.
Another Omega I didn’t meet yesterday sits on a cushioned chair, his feathery blond hair gleaming like a halo, and his stomach swollen with a baby. A large Alpha hovers beside him, refilling his juice glass with attentive care.
A man I haven’t met before but recognize from the picture in Sebastian’s office leans forward, the streak of silver in his dark hair catching the light as he observes me with lazy interest. Ezra. The cousin from the accident that left Sebastian scarred.
“The guest of honor arrives,” Gabriel calls from near a sideboard laden with coffee pots and platters. His tongue skims his bottom lip as he spots Saint behind us. “And his shadow.”
Saint’s shoulders tense, but before he can respond, Sebastian’s hand on the small of my back guides me into the room.
“Ignore him,” Sebastian murmurs close to my ear. “He lives to provoke.”
I square my shoulders and step forward, forcing a smile that I hope doesn’t betray the storm of anxiety churning beneath my skin.
Sebastian runs through introductions. Phoenix’s mate is his cousin Damien, the angelic Omega is Leo, with his over-protective mate Nolan, and at the far end, the black-haired Omega who doesn’t raise his head when Sebastian says his name is Jade.
My head swims, and I tug at the hem of my faded sweatshirt as I take the seat Sebastian pulls out for me.
“Come sit here, precious.” Gabriel pats the empty chair beside him for Saint.
“Fuck off,” Saint snarls, grabbing the chair on the other side of Sebastian to put more distance between them. “It’s not happening.”
A grin spreads over Gabriel’s face. “You’ll change your mind once you know me better. We have a lot in common.”
“Not. Happening.” Saint bites out. “Once we’re done here, we’re never seeing each other again.”
Gabriel props his chin on his hand. “But Micah’s Sebastian’s mate. Are you saying you’re never going to visit?”
Saint stiffens, and I freeze in panic.
“Stop it, Gabe,” Sebastian rumbles. “If you can’t be respectful, go drink your coffee in your room.”
“Touchy.” His brother sits back. “I’m just trying to become friends with your Omega’s bestie.”
Saint scoffs and grabs a roll from a basket, ripping into it.
“Ignore him,” a soft voice says, and I look up to find Leo’s crystal blue eyes on me, soft with understanding. “Try the French toast. Mrs. Bustley is an amazing cook.”
“Oh.” I scan the platters on the table, then the empty plate in front of me, and my stomach twists into a knot.
When I set my sights on Sebastian, I really did reach too high. How can Gabriel joke about me being Sebastian’s mate? Shouldn’t they be trying to steer him away from me? Who in their right mind would want a sex worker in the family?
I’m such an idiot. It was so much easier to dream about a future with Sebastian before being faced with the reality of his life.
Leo’s hand rests over the swell of his pregnant belly. “Do you not like the food? We can have something else prepared.”
I stare at the platters of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon crisped just right, and fresh fruit arranged in an artful pattern. Nothing like my usual breakfast of coffee and whatever’s not expired in my fridge.
“No, it looks delicious,” I rush to reassure. “I’m just… not very hungry this morning.”
Leo frowns, unconvinced. “You need to keep your strength up. Especially now.”
Nolan appears behind his mate’s chair, adding more strawberries to Leo’s already full plate. “He’s right. Though, you should have salmon and spinach instead of French toast. The first trimester is an important time to focus on nutrition.”