Page 39 of Heart of a Devil

She squirms on my lap, trying to escape, and I clamp down on her so hard she squeals. “Nope. You’re going nowhere, Hot Sauce. Why did you come to my house that night? I don’t care if the answer is to set it on fire—I just need the truth.”

She bites her lip and gazes down at her hands. She looks uncomfortable, almost embarrassed, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen that on her before. I wonder if she’s about to lie to me, which I’ve also not seen on her before—she’s usually way too honest for comfort. “I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved. For the things I said.”

“Like saying I had a thick skull?”

She gives me a quick smile and runs her hand over my head. “Well, it is pretty thick, to be fair, but… Yeah. I shut you out and was harsh, and you were right. After you left, I missed you. It freaked me out, but I missed you, so I jumped in a cab and went to your place, and I intended to ask you if I could sleep over.Which now that I say it really makes me sound like a teenage girl.”

I take all of this in and feel sick to my stomach at the thought of what she accidentally saw. I know how much it must have taken for Lauren to even consider admitting she was wrong, to take a step back from her deeply engrained and ferocious sense of independence. She reached out, and I unwittingly slapped her away. I stroke her curls back from her face and kiss her forehead. She feels good on my lap. I think I might keep her here permanently.

“Lauren, sweetheart. Nothing happened. She wanted it to, and I knew that she did and maybe that’s why I let her get into the cab with me. But I didn’t do anything, I swear. Besides, she threw up all over me and I had to carry her to my place because the cabbie wouldn’t drive her. She slept in the spare room, baby.”

“But you took her home knowing she wanted something with you?” There’s no accusation in her tone. She sounds like she’s fact checking. Like a good lawyer.

I wince. “Yeah. She was warm and willing and she wanted me, and… Well, I needed that.”

“Because I was cold and unwilling and didn’t want you?”

I shrug. No use sugar-coating it. “Maybe. Look, it’s not a black-and-white situation. We both played our part in that fight. I reacted like a prick and got my head turned by the first woman who showed an interest. I’m sorry for that. I never meant to hurt you, but I’m old enough to understand that actions have consequences, and it was a dick move. I felt rejected by you and pissed off at how much that stung, and I suppose I wanted to feel like me again. Like a man who listened to his body more than his fuckingfeelings. I hate how many fucking feelings you make me have, Lauren. But I did not sleep with her, I promise you. I didn’t even kiss her.”

“Why, then? If she was willing, and that’s what you wanted, why couldn’t you sleep with her?”

“Well, she was practically passed out by the time I got her home. I might be into some questionable kinks, but consent is number one on my list of must-haves. But… I wouldn’t have slept with her anyway. She wasn’t who I wanted. She wasn’t the woman I couldn’t get out of my mind. She’s not the woman who makes my dick hard with one raised eyebrow. She’s not the woman I want to laugh with, to play with, to talk to every hour of every day. She’s definitely not the woman I’m falling in love with.”

Her head snaps up, her eyes going wide. I know exactly how she feels. I surprised my fucking self with that little speech. This could go either way. She could run screaming into the night, never to be seen again. And if she does, so be it. I’ve had enough of this bullshit now. Enough stupid games and dancing around reality.

“Am I that woman?” she asks quietly, winding her arms around my neck.

“No, I was talking about Taylor fucking Swift—of course you bloody are, Lauren.”

She raises her lips for a kiss, which I am more than happy to provide. Afterward, she shakes her head and says, “If we’re going to try to make a go of this thing, Seb, I really need to ask you to do something for me.”

“Anything, baby.”

“Never take Tay Tay’s name in vain again.”

Chapter

Twenty

LAUREN

When we eventually emerge back into the packed restaurant, Samantha is by our side in about twenty seconds flat. I tried to tidy myself up, but I likely still look like a woman who has been freshly fucked. The fact that we are very much together, Seb keeping a delightfully tight grip on my hand, probably also helped tip her off.

“Thank god,” she says, hugging us both. “I thought you’d never get your acts together—for two intelligent people you can both be really stupid, you know? Lauren, you’ve been sad all week, and Dad, Gabriel says you’ve been an absolute nightmare too. And now here you are, grinning your heads off after what I presume was some hot… hmmm, let me guess—bathroom sex? Back-office sex? Alleyway-behind-the-fire-escape sex?”

She’s definitely a bit drunk, her pretty face flushed and her eyes sparkling. There’s no way she really wants to know where her father just banged me and would never have asked if she weren’t tipsy. Gabriel joins her, grinning knowingly at the two of us. “Lauren,” he says, looking respectfully away, “your dresshas a tear down the side. And Seb, you have red sequins stuck to your beard. Congratulations.”

He leaves us with a wink, dragging Samantha off to dance, and before long, Seb and I decide it’s time to sneak away from the party. Before we make our escape, he introduces me to his Russian friend Sasha, who turns out to be a slickly good-looking blond guy in a Tom Ford suit. He comes across as charm itself, but I can sense the steel underneath, and I’m glad we have him on our side. His female companions for the evening are on the dance floor, which is a relief. I believed Seb when he said he hadn’t slept with Carla, but it’s an uncomfortable situation. I catch a glimpse of her as we walk to the door, watching us as she does some kind of burlesque bump and grind to a Christina Aguilera track. I stare right back at her, hug Seb’s arm tighter around my shoulder, and let my hand drift to his ass.

He laughs as we walk outside. “Marking your territory, sweetheart? Felt like you were going to piss on me for a minute there.” He scans the area, alert to any potential threat.

“If that’s what you’re into…”

We laugh and flirt all the way back to his place, deciding against my apartment because of all the damn cameras. As soon as we arrive, he makes us each a mug of hot chocolate, and we settle down on the couch and talk for hours on end. It is a revelation, the way I enjoy such a simple act. We don’t discuss anything serious or have one of those “relationship” talks—we just chat in the lighthearted way of two people relishing being together.

I yawn as he finishes telling me a story about Samantha sneaking out to a night club when she was only fifteen, and laugh as I say, “Sorry, Seb—you’re not boring me, honest. It’s just been… Well, it’s been a day, hasn’t it?”

“It has. A lot of ups and downs. But I’ve got to say, I’m fucking thrilled with the way it’s ended.”

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