Chapter 14
Sebastian
I've spent the past week in hell. Not sleeping, barely eating, replaying that conversation with my father on an endless loop. Trying to figure out what I could have done differently. How I could have been better.
The answer is always the same: I should have told my father to fuck off immediately. Should have defended Isla without pause. Should have been certain instead of hesitant.
But I can't change the past. Can only try to fix the present.
I pace by the door waiting for her to knock.
At 1:55, the knock comes, it's soft and I open the door quickly.
She's wearing jeans and that blue sweater I love. Hair up in a ponytail. No makeup. She looks exhausted and beautiful and so guarded I can feel the walls from twenty feet away.
"Hi," I say with a smile hoping to lighten the mood.
"Hi."
I move to the side, letting her in, and she goes straight to the couch. We sit. Not touching. The space between us feels like miles.
"Thank you for coming," I start.
"I'm not here to make this easy for you."
"I don't want easy. I want honest." I turn to face her. "Isla, I fucked up. Monumentally. In the one moment that mattered most, I hesitated and I hate myself for that more than you could possibly hate me."
"I don't hate you." Her voice is quiet. "I wish I did. This would be easier if I hated you."
"What do you feel?"
"Hurt. Angry. Disappointed." She looks at me finally. "But also confused. Because I saw that speech. Read the poems. And I know you're trying. I just don't know if trying is enough."
"What would be enough?"
"I don't know!" Her composure cracks. "That's the problem. I don't know what I need from you to trust this again. To trust us again. Because that hesitation showed me that when it matters, when there's real pressure, part of you still chooses the legacy over me."
"That's not true—"
"It is true. For thirty seconds, it was true. And I need to know that won't happen again. That the next time your father makes demands, or your world pushes back, or there's any conflict between me and the Thornhill name, you won't have to think about it."
"I won't. I swear I won't."
"You can't promise that. You can't know for certain until you're in that moment again."
She's right. I can't promise. Can't guarantee I won't fuck up again.
"You're right," I admit. "I can't promise perfection. I can't guarantee I'll never hesitate or doubt or make mistakes. But I can promise that I'll keep choosing you. That even when it's hard, even when my conditioning tries to pull me back, I'll fight it. I'll fight for us."
"How do I know that?"
"Because I've already started fighting. I've cut my father off. Told him we're done until he apologizes to you. I've resigned from Legacy Council—"
"Sebastian, no—"
"I did. Because being president meant representing values I don't believe in anymore. Meant upholding a system that made you feel like you don't belong. I'm done with that."
"You can't throw away your whole life for me."
"I'm not throwing anything away. I'm choosing what matters.
And you matter more than any of it." I reach for her hand, and miracle of miracles, she doesn't pull away.
"Isla, I've spent twenty-one years being who everyone else wanted me to be.
Rich. Connected. The perfect Thornhill heir.
And I was miserable. Then you came into my life and showed me who I could be instead.
Someone real. Someone worthy of you. I'm not giving that up. "
"What about your father? Your family?"
"My father will come around or he won't. Either way, it doesn't change my choice.
" I squeeze her hand. "You asked me once what happens after the contract.
I told you I wanted to keep seeing you for real.
That's still true. Contract or no contract, obligation or choice, I want you. I choose you. Without hesitation."
She's quiet for a long moment, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm scared," she whispers.
"Me too."
"What if this doesn't work? What if we try and it's not enough?"
"Then at least we tried. At least we gave ourselves a real chance." I pull her closer. "But I think it will work. Because we're both stubborn and difficult and we've already survived the worst of each other. Anything else is just details."
She laughs through her tears. "That's a terrible sales pitch."
"I'm not trying to sell you anything. I'm just asking you to take a chance on me. On us. One more time."
"One more time," she repeats. "And if you hesitate again—"
"I won't."
"But if you do—"
"Then you walk away and I'll deserve it.
But Isla?" I tilt her face up to meet my eyes.
"I don't think I will. Because that hesitation?
That was fear. Fear of losing my father's approval, of disappointing my family, of not being who they expect.
But I'm more afraid of losing you. And when you're more afraid of one thing than another, the choice becomes easy. "
"Is it? Easy?"
"You are the easiest decision I've ever made. Everything else is just noise."
She studies my face for a long time. Looking for lies, for doubt, for any sign that I'm not completely serious.
"Okay," she says finally.
"Okay?"
"Okay, we'll try. One more time. But Sebastian—" Her voice hardens. "This is it. This is your last chance. If you hurt me again, if you choose your legacy over me again, we're done. Permanently. No more poetry, no more grand gestures, no more chances. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"Good." She wipes her eyes. "Now kiss me before I change my mind."
I don't need to be told twice.
I kiss her like I've been dying without her. Like she's air and I've been drowning. Like she's home and I've been lost.
She kisses me back with equal intensity, her hands in my hair, her body pressed against mine.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathless.
"I missed you," she murmur against my lips.
"It's been a week."
"Longest week of my life."
"Drama queen." I joke with her, because I’ve missed her too.
"Your drama queen."
She smiles, really smiles and it's the most beautiful thing I've seen in days.
"My drama queen," she agrees. "God help me."
We sit on the couch, talking about everything. About what happened at the gala, about who lied and why, about what comes next.
I tell her about cutting off my father, about resigning from Legacy Council. She tells me about blocking my number, about her friends' support, about almost not giving me this chance.
"What changed your mind?" I ask.
"The journal. Specifically the last poem." She traces patterns on my palm. "You wrote that you're choosing me every day, every moment, without hesitation. Even if it's too late. That's what I needed to hear. Not that you're perfect. But that you're trying."
"I am trying. Every day. To be worthy of you."
"You don't have to be worthy. You just have to be honest."
"Then honestly? I'm terrified I'll fuck this up again. Terrified I'm not good enough for you. Terrified, you'll realize you deserve better." I pull her closer. "But I'm more terrified of not trying. Of letting you go without fighting for this with everything I have."
"Then fight. Keep fighting. Keep choosing me and I'll keep choosing you back."
"Deal."
We kiss again, softer this time. Sweeter. Like a promise instead of desperation.
Isla stands up, she smiles at me, tilts her head, her hands move to the hem of her sweater, and I can’t help the smile spreading across my face. She stands in front of me slowly striping, and I feel paralyzed at the sight of her.
Every inch of her sexy skin is perfect, and I’m not going to lie, I have fantasized about this moment for a very long time, and God she looks better than what I thought.
"Your turn!" Her voice breaks me out of the thoughts about what I’m about to do with her sexy body all night.
I stand and take my clothes off quicker than I ever have, and the moment I’m undressed and I slap my lips into hers, pulling her closer. My hard cock is against her, showing her what she’s doing to me.
Her lips curl against mine, and I moan as her hand wraps around my cock, as I explore every inch of her body. My hand wrapped around her breast, which fit perfectly. Kissing down her neck, to her breast, flicking her hard nipple with my tongue, making her moan again.
I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist, and I move towards the bedroom.
“Even sexier than I could ever imagine." I kiss her again, kicking the door behind me.
I lay her on the bed, lick my lips and smile. “Open your legs for me Isla, I’ve been thinking of eating you for so long.” I drop to my knees, my heart pounding in my chest as I rub my hands up and down her thigh, bringing my face closer.
I take a moment taking in the beauty which is all mine. She’s perfectly smooth, and her scent is intoxicating.
Slipping my tongue between her fold, and Isla moans. “Oh God.” I lick faster, suck a little harder, flicking her clit over and over, wanting to get as much of her as I can.
One thing I do know, this is not the last time I’m playing with her sexy pussy.
Isla moans are getting louder as I slide my tongue in and out of her. The taste of her pussy, and the way she moans for me, is driving me crazy. Isla’s fingers move through my hair, pulling me closer to her pussy.
I slide a finger into her tight pussy as I suck her clit, and her soft moans become louder and my dick is so hard it’s hurting.
My finger brushes the soft spot inside her pussy, and Isla arches her back off the bed.
“Oh God, yes.” I continue stroking, sucking, licking her clit. Isla moans are breathy, high pitched. “I’m cumming.” The words squeak out, I don’t stop wanting to drink her all.
Isla’s orgasm hits her hard, her legs close tighter around my head, her pussy squeezing my fingers.
I kiss the inside of her thigh, her stomach, to her neck. “You taste delicious.” I kiss her and she lets out a giggle.
Quickly standing up, I grab the condom from the bedside draw, and put it on. I look down at Isla. “What are you waiting for?” She teases me, and starts laughing when I pull her to the edge of the bed.
I bring the head of my cock to her entrance teasing her and myself at the same time. I enter slowly, until I’m all in and fuck this is perfect.
“You're tight.”
“You're big.”
I pause for a moment, she’s so tight, and so fucking warm.
I start thrusting slow to start then quicker, harder,
“Yes, Sebastian,” she moans as I grab her hips and thrust harder.
“Fuck.” I groan.
I lean down kissing her neck, fighting off my orgasm, wanting her to cum first.
Isla moans grow louder, her nails digging into my back. I feel her pussy grip my cock. “I’m there.” She moans louder as her orgasm hits her, and within seconds I come hard.
“Isla,” her name escapes in a groan.
I slow down, but not pulling out wanting to feel her for longer. I kiss her and she kisses me back.
“That was amazing.” She says, and I smile.
“Good, because the night is still young.” I pull out of her, and roll onto my back pulling her closer to me.
"So what now?" she asks.
"Now I take you on a real date. No contract, no cameras, no obligations. Just us."
"We just had a whole emotional reunion. Isn't that enough for one day?"
"Not even close. I have two weeks of dates to make up for." I kiss the top of her head. "But first I have other plans for the night.”
"Sebastian, I have a shift—"
"Called in a favor. You're covered."
"You can't just—"
"I can and I did. So how about I order a pizza, and you stay naked, under me, on top of me. I need a good workout.” I pull her on top of me, making her laugh.
It won't be perfect. We'll still fight. Still have moments of doubt. Still have to navigate the massive gap between our worlds.
But we'll do it together.
And that's enough.
More than enough.