Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Sebastian
There is a content smile on Willow’s face as she sleeps peacefully on her side in the large king-sized bed.
I feel an odd sense of peace and calmness as I stare at her naked body.
I feel something twitch inside of my heart.
The previous evening had been weird, to say the least. This woman is now my wife, and in every sense of the word, I still can’t quite believe it.
She’s told me she loves me multiple times.
Each time the words came out of her mouth, the desperation in her eyes was almost painful to hear.
The wanting to be loved was apparent to see.
I almost feel guilty about the fact that she so desperately wanted me to tell her that I reciprocated that love. But I’m not going to lie.
I was not surprised that when I got back to the room, I found her there in lingerie.
I was positive that she would be mad at me.
But we’d made sweet, passionate love for hours.
I watch as she turns over, and her eyes flutter open.
She blinks and looks around for a few moments, orienting herself to the room.
“Is this real life?” she says, smiling up at me, and I watch as she pinches herself. “Ouch. I guess it is.”
She laughs lightly, reaching up to touch the side of my face. “How is it that you look even more handsome in the morning, Sebastian?”
“I don’t know. How is it that you look even more beautiful after waking?”
“That’s a lie. I’m sure I look like death warmed up.” She giggles as she sits up and pulls the sheet over her naked breasts. “Wow. We really did it.” She looks down at her ring finger, at the ring I had brought along with me. “This is so beautiful. I didn’t even know you were going to propose.”
“I mean, you didn’t even know me a month ago, so how would you have guessed this?”
“You know something, Sebastian?”
“I know many things. I know that two times two is four. I know that—”
“No, silly,” she interrupts, laughing. “I was just thinking that I thought a love like this was only in fairy tales, and yet it’s come true for us. I feel like I should play the lottery or something.”
“Yeah, you should play the lottery. Do you play it often?”
“I mean, I don’t, but my cousin does. She’s won twice.”
“Really? What are the chances of that?”
“Yeah, it was how she was able to—” She stops and wrinkles her nose. “Well, anyway, she’s won twice, and she’s not always the nicest person, so I figure maybe I should play. Maybe I’d win, as well.” She grins.
“Wow. Lucky her.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes grow sad for a few moments. “I wish my parents were here to have seen us get married.”
“Oh? How did they meet?”
She laughs softly. “They met at a fair and very quickly got into a relationship. They married, and for all intents and purposes, they were dreadfully happy. I don’t remember much about them, but I can remember my dad reading stories and taking me to the park. I can remember them holding my hand.”
Her voice falters. “I guess I just wish they were here to see me. Wish they were here to see us. They’d be so happy for me. Really, they would be. If they could meet you, I’m sure they’d love you as much as I do.”
“I feel like I should tell you,” I say slowly, “that I didn’t have the same life growing up as you did.”
“What do you mean?”
“My parents didn’t have a loving relationship.
My mother was from a family that came over on the Mayflower, but they had run out of money.
She met my dad, and I think she cared more about what he had in his bank account than she did about him.
He saw the blue blood in her veins. They got married, but I don’t know how long either one of them was faithful for.
I don’t even know if they slept together more than twice—just enough to have my brother and me.
” My voice is bitter. “They constantly argued, constantly tried to one-up each other. Sergio and I were just annoyances in the house. I did have a cousin, David. He was my best friend, just a couple of years older than me. He took me under his wing. I think maybe he observed what was going on in my house, saw how it was affecting me, even though I was a boy and didn’t express anything.
We’d go on adventures. We’d go to the woods, we’d go out hunting.
He gave me my first beer when I was thirteen.
” I shake my head. “I got drunk off my rocker. My parents knew, and they didn’t even say anything. ”
“Oh, wow. That’s crazy. Will I get to meet him? He sounds like someone really special in your life.”
“He died.” I let out a deep breath. “I was very focused on school and on being the smartest. I wanted my parents to acknowledge me for something. David… he caught his girlfriend cheating or something. He was upset and wanted to go to a party. He invited me to go, but I didn’t want to.
We argued. He called me a square and said I was too young to be obsessed with working, and I told him he could party, but I wasn’t going to waste my life away.
I wanted to make something of myself outside of my family.
” I lean back in the bed and close my eyes.
“I can still picture myself in my bedroom, still picture myself having that conversation with him on the phone. I can still hear the bitterness in his tone as he hung up—as he said he just wanted to hang out with me, his best friend, his favorite cousin. And I told him, ‘Next weekend.’”
“Well, I mean, you were working,” she says softly. “He should have understood that.”
“Yeah, I guess he probably did. He went to the party and got drunk off his rocker. I guess he saw his ex-girlfriend there, making out with some dude.”
“Oh, that must’ve really hurt him.”
“It did. He grabbed his keys and left.” I stare at her. “He got into a wreck. He died instantly at the scene. The people in the other car died, too. It was a horrible tragedy, and all I could think when I heard the news was if I had just gone, if I had just put the books down for one day...”
“You can’t blame yourself for that, Sebastian,” she says gently. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid, and he chose to drink and drive. I’m so sorry.”
“It just sometimes makes me think that I don’t want to be that person, the one who lets people down. The people that are special to me, the people that I care about…” I stare at her. “I have to have their backs. I have to be there for them.”
“I understand,” she says softly. “I really understand.”
“It’s made me look at life in black and white. It’s made me cold in some ways. Everything is compartmentalized. I have my work, my friends, and my nonexistent love life.”
“Well, it’s not nonexistent anymore.” She giggles. “You have me now.”
I stare at her and shake my head slowly. “I never believed in love. I never believed it was something that brought happiness. It doesn’t pay off like you think it should.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, confused.
“I mean, in business, there are transactions. You pay for something, you get the goods. If you don’t like what you’re getting, you negotiate, you get a refund, you move on. In love, people play too many games. They want too much. They use, they abuse, they hurt and oftentimes, they don’t care.”
“Well, those people are normally called narcissists,” she says, “or sociopaths. But nothing—”
“Willow,” I interrupt quietly. “I don’t love you.”
She gasps and pulls back slightly. I can see the question in her eyes as she blinks slowly.
“Sorry—what did you say?”
“I don’t love you, Willow. This marriage, us, this is not real. It’s not real for me, and it’s not real for you.”
“Stop the act, Sebastian.”
“What?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Did you think I didn’t know you were marrying me for money? Did you think I don’t know just who you really are?”
Her jaw drops. “What are you saying? Is this a joke? I don’t understand what’s going on, Sebastian. You’re scaring me.”
“This isn’t a joke. Remember Sergio? Remember the millions of dollars?”
“What? Who?”
“Sergio. My brother, Sergio.”
“What?” She blinks at me, utterly confused.
“Don’t play dumb, Willow. The last guy you were seeing—what was his name?”
She bites down on her lower lip. “You mean Clark Kent?”
I roll my eyes. She’s really starting to fucking annoy me now.
“Clark Kent? Superman?”
“I mean, he told me his name was Clark Kent. He didn’t tell me what his real name was. I didn’t understand why, but what, he was your brother?”
“I abhor liars, Willow.”
“But I’m not a liar!”
“Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve never told me a lie?”
She blinks and shakes her head. “No, but—listen to me—”
I jump out of the bed and head to my case. I pull out a stack of papers and hand them to her.
“This is a contract.”
“A contract? What are you talking about?”
“It’s a marriage contract. We’ll be married for one year. You’ll obey whatever I want you to do.”
“Sebastian, I—”
“If you don’t, I’ll ruin your bed and breakfast. I’ll ruin your life. And just for shits and giggles, I’ll ruin the lives of Katherine and Brielle, as well.”
“Sebastian, I don’t understand. What are you talking about? Who’s Sergio? Honestly, I didn’t know that was Clark Kent's real name,” she mumbles. Her face looks absolutely gobsmacked.
For a few moments, I feel triumph—and then sadness. Extreme sadness. Because the relationship, the lightness that had existed between us before, is now gone forever. But I can’t continue on the way we were before. I can’t continue opening up to her, or letting her open up to me.
I can’t allow myself to fall for her trap, for her lies, to fall for her. I can’t allow her to do to me what she’s done to my brother.
“But don’t worry, Willow,” I say. “You’ll have a payoff at the end.”
“A payoff?”
“I mean, we both know this was about money. I heard you the other day talking to your friends about how you’d bagged yourself a billionaire.”
“No, that’s not what I was saying. I—” She bites her lip. “You don’t understand. I mean, yeah, I was excited that you were rich, but I’m not with you because of that.”
“Sign the contract,” I say, heading toward the door. “I’m going to get myself a drink.”
“But I don’t understand, Sebastian. Is this some kind of weird test?”
“Sign the papers. I’ll be back.” I pull on some jeans and a shirt and leave the hotel room, slamming the door behind me. I stand there for a couple of moments and exhale three deep breaths.
She had truly looked shocked when I’d brought up Sergio’s name. Maybe he hadn’t told her who he really was. Maybe she hadn’t added two and two together. If he’d given her a fake name, then she wouldn’t have known he was a Laurence. That meant she wouldn’t have known I was his brother.
Something in the back of my brain starts ticking, but I don’t know what’s causing the distress. I don’t feel as exhilarated or as happy as I thought I’d feel pulling the rug out from under her. In fact, I feel… like I’m not any better than her.
But then I think of Sergio, and I think of David, and I think about all the other men who’d been played by women—men who’d been broken. And I realize that I’m not going to allow her to make me a statistic. I’m not going to allow her to be a black widow in my life.