Page 11 of Forbidden Sins

“Estella.”

His voice slices through the air like a blade, sharp and cutting, demanding that I listen to what he’s going to say next. My hands drop numbly to my sides, and I stare at him, my heartbeat racing in my chest until it almost hurts. I’m cold and hot all at once, every fiber in my body resisting what I’m about to hear, and tears rise in the corners of my eyes before I can stop them.

“Luis is dead.”

The words sound like a gunshot, cracking in the air between us with a force that makes my hand fly up to my chest, as if I’ve actually been hurt by them. My knees go weak, and I grab the side of my vanity table, fumbling for the seat to pull it out. My father crosses the room in two quick strides, grabbing the back of the chair and pulling it out for me, and his hand goes to my shoulder, easing me down into it. His fingers press against the joint, almost too firmly, as if he’s trying to anchor me here in this world; his only remaining child.

His only child.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, tears dripping down my cheeks. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head back and forth. “No, no, no. He promised he’d be here tonight. He promised. Thismorning, he promised—” I keep repeating it over and over, as if it can somehow replace what my father said a moment ago. As if those words can overwrite his horrible pronouncement, and bring my brother back.

“The job went wrong.” My father’s voice is ice-cold, every word a shard clinking to the floor between us. His voice is stiff, as if he’s pushing the words out, forcing them into being so that I can know what happened. “I’ll have more details soon. I have to leave, Estella.”

“What?” I look up at him, opening my eyes as the tears come faster, harder, in a flood that drips onto the collar of my shirt, soaking it. I can feel the wet material clinging to my skin. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find out exactly what happened.” His voice is harsh, and I can hear the anger behind it, the loss. “And I’m going to bring his body home, so that we can bury him.”

“His—” I can’t breathe for a moment. I feel like I’m going to throw up, sending sweet cake and champagne all over the gleaming floor at my feet. “No. No, no?—”

My father’s hand grips my shoulder a little tighter, for a moment, and he gives me one quick, hard shake. It reminds me of what Sebastian did earlier, in the hall—but for some reason, that felt like caring, like him trying to jolt me out of my fear long enough to make me do what was necessary to keep me safe. This doesn’t feel like caring. It feels like frustration, like he’s upset that I can’t hold myself together.

“Sebastian will be up shortly. He’ll stay outside your room until I return.” He lets go of my shoulder, his expensive Italian leather shoes clicking against the wood as he strides toward the door. He pauses in the doorway, looking back at me, his jaw set in a hard clench that makes the lines of his face look even deeper than before.

“You’re my only child now, Estella,” he says tersely. “The heiress to the Gallo fortune. I’ll need you to behave like it.”

I stare after him, so shocked and full of a crushing grief that I can’t speak. My throat feels tight, closed over, and I’m unable to move—until, a moment later, Sebastian appears in the doorway.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m already out of my chair, propelled toward him by a force greater than anything that could possibly resist what I do next. My heart feels like it’s been shattered, every broken piece digging into my flesh until I’m bleeding internally from a pain that I never imagined before, and I fling myself at Sebastian, seeking out the only warmth, the only comfort that’s left to me in this house.

I’ve never touched him like this before. He’s never hugged me. It would be an unthinkable line to cross, an informality that even our friendship wouldn’t allow. I feel him go stiff as my arms go around his neck, my face pressed against his chest, and for a moment, I think he’s going to pull away. He’s standing rigid, spine ramrod straight, his arms still at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.

And then, slowly, he puts an arm around my waist.

He looks down the hall, quickly, and moves me backward into the bedroom, closing the door sharply behind us both. Only when the door is shut do both of his arms go around me, one hand pressing against the back of my head as he holds my face against his chest, his chin touching the top of my head as he embraces me.

I hadn’t thought it was possible to cry harder, but I do. Sobs wrack my body—shaking, wailing, keening sobs as tears stream down my face faster than I thought possible, my hands clutching the back of Sebastian’s neck as I cry. He stands there for a long moment, one hand stroking down my spine as the other strokes my hair, until at last his arms tighten around me and he sweeps me off my feet, carrying me over to the bed.

It’s not until he sets me down on it, hesitating for a moment with his jaw clenched tight before he sinks down to sit next to me, that I realize how all of this would look if someone walked in right now. Sebastian has never been in my room. He’s barely ever even touched me. He’s certainly never sat on mybedwith me. So many lines have just been crossed, more than either of us should ever have allowed…but right now I can’t bring myself to care. What does any of that matter anymore?

My brother is gone, and my family and my life will never be the same.

I roll onto my side, toward Sebastian, my face buried in my pillow as I cry. Every time I think that the sobs might be letting up—every time I feel like I can breathe—it hits me anew that Luis is dead, and the grief overtakes me again. Through it all, for what feels like hours, Sebastian sits silently next to me, his hand stroking my hair, my shoulder, my back. He doesn’t say anything at all—not that it will be okay, or that I’ll get through this, or any other ridiculous platitude. I’m grateful, because I don’t think I could bear to hear any of that right now.

“Where did my dad go?” I ask when I can speak again, my voice cracked and clogged with tears. “He said he was going to get…” I can’t saymy brother’s bodyaloud. If I say it, then it will be real beyond denying it. It feels like, if I say it aloud, there’s no chance that my father might come back and simply say it was all a mistake. That he was given bad information. That Luis isn’t?—

“He said he was going to get answers,” I finish, which is also true. I look up at Sebastian through tear-blurred eyes, and to my shock, I see that his eyes are damp, too. I’ve never seen a man cry before, and something about the sight of those brimming, unshed tears makes my heart wrench in my chest again, fresh sobs spilling out and shaking my body.

Sebastian’s jaw tightens. “He went to get answers, yes,” he says carefully, and my eyes narrow. I push myself up, half-sitting against my pillows as I push my damp hair out of my face.

“What does that mean? Get answers, how?”

Sebastian lets out a slow breath. “There are some things that you’re better off not knowing, princess,” he says slowly, and a rush of hot anger suddenly burns through me.

I shove myself away from him, putting a foot of space between us as I slide to the middle of the bed. “Don’t patronize me,” I spit out, and Sebastian looks momentarily shocked. I’ve never spoken to him that way before.

“I’m not, Estella,” he says carefully. “But there are things that I don’t think you want to know?—”

“My brother is dead,” I spit out, and the words hang between us in the air, real and solidified. “What could be worse than that? I’m not a child, Sebastian. I want to know.”

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