Page 61 of King of Clubs

“I’m sorry,” I said, my head still rested against his chest as my breathing returned to normal, “It’s been a big few days.”

“Talk to me,” he said reassuringly. If I couldn’t be direct now, this wasn’t going to work. Hesitantly, I stepped back, needing space for the words I was about to say. I couldn’t look at him, still shaky from the panic attack and what I was about to ask, but it was now or never. Fidgeting with my bracelet I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

“Who was that woman who just left your office? I mean I know she works here but it felt like maybe I just missed something or –” I paused, unsure how to articulate exactly what it was that I thought.

He paused, his eyes darting up as he seemed confused by my question. Did people look to the right or left when lying? I wondered.

Was I being ridiculous? Was my past destined to destroy every good thing I had? Taking my hair out of its up-do, I ran my hands through the knots to keep my hands busy.

“Do you mean Clara?” He asked dumbfoundedly as if he wasn’t quite sure. How many women did he bring up here if he was askingmeto clarify.

“Was there more than one woman in here before I arrived?” I shot back defensively. “I’m not interested in being one of many, Sebastian. I deserve better than that,” I finished definitively.

And for the first time, I truly believed the words I spoke. I did deserve better and I wasn’t going to settle for anything less ever again. Even if it shattered me in the process.

He entered my space, placing a tentative finger under my chin to ensure I was looking at him before he spoke.

“Firstly, I realise I’ve never had a girlfriend so I might not entirely understand the protocols but I do know exclusivity is non-negotiable. Secondly, the woman you saw was Clara. She is an employee. We were friends in high school and she has recently moved to the city and needed a job. She shouldn’t have been up here and I was planning on telling her after her shift finishes but I was actually shocked she even came up – especially because, as I’ve told you, I don’t have people in this space. And thirdly, I’m nothing like your scumbag ex. I would never betray you like that because you’re right, you do deserve better.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He repeated with a raised brow as if my one word response couldn’t be all.

“I believe you,” I admitted, hoping with everything I had that he wasn’t lying. “I’m a mess, Seb and I can’t even promise that this won’t happen again,” I sighed, the day finally catching up with me, “but I do know I do not like her,” I added with a snarl as he pulled me into him.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous,” he muttered against the top of my hair and I huffed sulkily.

“I wasn’t jealous,” I lied and he chuckled.

“Marls, you can always ask me anything. Come and see me unexpectedly at any time of any day but you don’t ever have to question my loyalty. Because that you will always have. Now let’s get your covetous butt home so we can talk properly.”

The way he saidhomemade me smile. So far we had only been on two proper dates, yet somehow it didn’t feel so strange. Maybe because I didn’t really have my own place, it was easy to latch on or maybe because we spent so much time on the phone together I was already finding him to be the comfort I sought out. Whatever the reason, I nodded, taking his outstretched hand and following him out of his office.

Marlee

Chapter Twenty-Five

When we walked through the front door, my hand entwined within his larger, warmer grip, I was reminded of everything I liked about him. The comforting smell of his apartment, the vast pristine space – perfectly located, thoughtfully decorated and immaculately clean. Other than when he drove and he needed to change gears, his hand was holding my own or resting on my thigh.

When he stopped suddenly in the entryway and kissed me until I was breathless there was no doubt in my mind I was falling for Seb and quickly. Every thoughtful action further cemented my trust, including how open he was when I’d asked about that stupid cow at the club who definitely wanted me to think something was going on between them. His honesty and patience was beyond reassuring and bizarrely a huge turn on.

And when he ended our kiss and told me he was going to cook me dinner because I would need sustenance for what he had planned, I very nearly melted on the spot.

Was I horny or hungry when it involved him? Or perhaps horngry. Always horngry.

Every time he did something sweet, like squeeze my hand gently before leading me to sit on the stools at his bench, it made my ovaries pinch and heat pulse through my veins. There was something supremely sexy about someone who could cook and look so damn sexy while preparing a dish. There was no mess. No splatters of sauce on the stove top, rows of dirty dishes lining the sink, random profanity flying from his mouth while two different timers simultaneously rang, uncertainty over which was to what.

No, Siree. He was calm, methodical and intentional - and it was enviable.

“Do you always line everything up in size order?” I asked, referring to the bowls of spices, sauces, shallots, lime, bok choy, prawns and rice he was perfectly aligning. Other than the slight raise of his brow he offered no reaction as he continued to chop the last of the veggies. I felt restless and emboldened after three long days without him and the urge to toy with him was festering. I wanted to get some kind of reaction, a sick sadistic prick from within encouraging me to swirl the spices with a spoon. His eyes darted to my hand, narrowing ever so slightly.

“It makes sense to order things. If everything is ordered I know where it is and I don’t forget anything. It’s clean and logical,” his reply was exactly as anticipated and I giggled.

“What would happen if thingsdidn’tsit in the perfect order?” My tone was mocking but he played along as he stopped chopping to connect his phone to the speakers around the room. Amy Winehouse filled the air as he refilled my glass and turned the stove on, anything but look at my hand which was now lifting spoonfuls of the spice mix before tipping them back into the bowl.

“Give me an example?” His voice was laced with humour and I loved this side of him. Longed for this jovial side that I was beginning to see more and more. I mixed the bowls as I spoke, ensuring they were no longer in size order.

“What if these were different, or –” I placed some lime onto the bok choy, grabbing the shallots ready to pour them on top of the prawns, when his hands stilled.

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