Chapter 4 4

Sebastian stared down at her, his expression shifting from lethal defensiveness to cold recognition. He didn't move off her. If anything, his weight settled more firmly, trapping her legs with his own.

"Uncle... Sebastian?" Elena squeaked. The word 'Uncle' felt ridiculous and forbidden in this position.

"Explain," he demanded. He didn't shout. He didn't have to. His whisper was more terrifying than a scream. "Why is my nephew's wife crawling into my bed at two in the morning?"

"I... I..." Elena stammered. The alcohol was evaporating, replaced by pure adrenaline. "I have the wrong room. Sierra... the keycard... the door was open."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. He scanned her face, taking in the smeared mascara, the swollen eyes, the scent of gin clinging to her breath. He looked at her bare shoulders, the disheveled strap of her gown.

Slowly, deliberately, he released her wrists. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed, turning his back to her.

Elena scrambled backward, pulling her knees to her chest, clutching the sheet like a shield.

Sebastian stood up. He was wearing nothing but grey boxer briefs. The muscles of his back flexed as he stretched, a roadmap of scars and power. He walked to the mini-bar and poured two fingers of amber liquid into a glass. He didn't offer her any.

"The lock was jammed," he said, taking a sip. "I'll be having a very long conversation with the General Manager about their security protocols in the morning."

He turned to face her, leaning against the mahogany dresser. He took a long drag of his drink, his eyes dissecting her. "You look like a wreck, Elena."

"Thank you," she snapped, humiliation giving her a sudden burst of courage. She tried to smooth her hair. "I'm leaving."

"Sit down," he ordered.

She froze. Her legs obeyed him before her brain did. She stayed on the edge of the bed.

Sebastian walked toward her. He moved like a predator-silent, assured. He stopped right in front of her. The smell of him-expensive scotch, cedar, and warm skin-filled her nose. It was intoxicating.

"You've been crying," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"I have allergies," she lied, looking at her knees.

"Bullshit." He reached out. Elena flinched, but he didn't strike her. He pulled a linen handkerchief from the pocket of the suit jacket draped over the chair and held it out.

Elena stared at the white square of fabric. She took it. "Julian cheated on me."

The words tumbled out. She hadn't meant to say them.

Sebastian didn't gasp. He didn't look surprised. He just took another sip of his drink. "He is a fool," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "But predictable."

The casual acceptance in his tone ignited a spark of fury in her chest. She stood up, wobbling slightly. "Is that it? Is that your excuse? It's genetic? So you're all just trash wrapped in Armani suits?"

Sebastian's eyes flashed. He set the glass down on the nightstand with a sharp clink. He took a step forward, invading her personal space. He reached out and gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His fingers were rough, calloused, but his touch wasn't painful. It was possessive.

"Do not," he whispered, his face inches from hers, "insult me by comparing me to Julian. Julian is a boy who breaks his toys because he doesn't know their value. I am something else entirely."

The air between them crackled. It was thick with tension-anger, fear, and something else Elena refused to name. Her breath hitched. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest.

Sudden pounding on the door shattered the moment.

"Elena? Elena! Are you in there?"

It was Sierra. And behind her, the deeper voice of a hotel security guard. "Ma'am, please step away from the door."

Elena's eyes went wide. Panic flooded her veins. If Sierra found her here... if security found her here... in Sebastian Sterling's room, looking like this...

The scandal would destroy whatever leverage she had left. Julian would spin it. She was the cheater. She was the one sleeping with his uncle.

"Oh god," she whispered. "I can't be seen."

She looked at Sebastian, her eyes pleading. "Please."

Sebastian looked at the door, then back at her. He saw the terror in her eyes. His jaw tightened.

He pointed to the walk-in closet. "Get in."

Elena didn't hesitate. She bolted into the closet, burying herself behind a row of crisp white dress shirts. Sebastian kicked the door shut just as he opened the main suite door.

Elena held her breath, peering through the slats of the closet door.

"Mr. Sterling," the security guard's voice was apologetic. "We had a report of a guest entering the wrong room. This young lady..."

"I'm looking for my friend," Sierra interrupted. "She came up here. Is she here?"

Elena watched Sebastian. He leaned against the doorframe, blocking the view into the room. He looked bored. Annoyed.

"I am alone," Sebastian lied smoothly. "As you can see. Perhaps your friend went to the roof to get some air. Now, get out of my face before I buy this hotel just to evict you."

The guard stammered apologies. Sierra sounded confused but retreated.

The door clicked shut.

Sebastian walked over to the closet and pulled the door open. Elena was huddled in the corner, clutching the hem of a suit jacket.

He looked down at her. The anger was gone, replaced by a dark, unreadable intensity.

"You owe me, Elena," he said softly.

Elena scrambled up. She squeezed past him, careful not to touch his bare skin again. "Thank you. I... I have to go."

She ran for the door.

"Elena."

She stopped, hand on the handle.

"You left this."

She turned. Sebastian was holding up a diamond earring. It had fallen off on the pillow during their struggle. It caught the light, spinning slowly.

He didn't give it to her. He closed his fist around it.

"Go," he said.

Elena fled into the hallway, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She didn't look back. If she had, she would have seen Sebastian staring at the closed door, bringing the earring to his nose to inhale her scent.