Page 15 of Forbidden Sins

The question hangs between us. Sebastian’s eyes widen. “As many times as I do something I shouldn’t,” he says finally, taking another step back and to the side. He goes to the window, and I see his face tighten, his jaw flexing as his hands grip the windowsill where mine were a moment before. “Just… stay there, Estella. You don’t need to see any of this.”

A part of me wants to get up and push him aside, to insist that I have arightto see it, that it’s better if I do. But as much as I want to know, as much as my grief-stricken mind thinks in this moment that it would be better to see the truth of things, I know deep down that it isn’t.

My last memory of Luis should be of him sweeping into the kitchen, sunny and bright as always, swooping down to kiss my cheek and promise that he’d be there for my birthday party. Not of him motionless beneath a blood-stained sheet, being carried somewhere by my father’s men.

Sebastian says nothing. He stands at the window for several long moments, clutching the windowsill until his knuckles turn white, his jaw clenched. And then he moves back to the armchair, sinking into it with an exhausted expression on his face.

I don’t think he slept any better than I did. He sits there for a long moment, rubbing a hand over his face, and then glances over at me with an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he says softly. “I know you want me to stay. But it’s probably better if I’m outside like I was meant to be when your father gets up here. He’s not going to be pleased if he guesses I spent the night in your room, even if I was over here and you were over there.” He gestures toward the bed, and I try not to let the sudden panic that I feel show on my face. There’s no reason for it—Sebastian will be right outside, and I’ve never needed someone else in my room before. But at this particular moment, the last thing in the world that I want is to be alone.

“Right outside,” Sebastian repeats, his voice a deep, comforting rumble, but his words are anything but. I nod, swallowing hard, and watch as he stands, smoothing his rumpled clothing before striding to the door and stepping outside. When the door clicks behind him, my chest tightens, and I try to breathe, trying not to let myself panic.

I expect my father to come up to talk to me before long, but he doesn’t. The morning stretches into afternoon, and one of the maids comes up with a tray of lunch—soup and a turkey sandwich and fruit—which I can’t imagine eating. When it doesn’t seem like he’ll appear anytime soon, I go to take a shower, standing under the hot spray of water for a long time. My face and throat feel stiff and uncomfortable from the endless crying, and I scrub myself clean, lingering until the water runs cold.

I change into a pair of leggings and another loose T-shirt with a sports bra under it, and collapse back into bed. I can’t focus on anything—not the TV show I was watching, or a movie, or a book. Every time I try, all I can think about is Luis—what happened to him, what might have happened, the fact that he’s gone.

The fact that I’ll never see him again.

As soon as that thought hits, I start to cry. The door clicks open a moment later, and Sebastian walks in, closing it quicklybehind him. “Estella,” he says softly, walking over to me and touching my shoulder. “Estella, it’s?—”

He trails off, clearly not knowing what to say. And what can he say? It’s not going to be okay. It’s not going to get better. None of this can be changed or fixed or salved, and I can feel his helplessness, radiating from his hand where it rests on my shoulder.

He stays until I fall asleep again, wrung out from crying, and when I wake up in the early evening, he’s no longer in the room.

The next time the door opens, it’s one of the maids—a nice girl named Lila who I see often. “Your father has asked that you come downstairs for dinner, miss,” she says politely, and her voice trembles a little. Her eyes are red-rimmed, too, and I realize that news of Luis’ death must have spread. My father and Sebastian, and I aren’t the only ones grieving now.

“You can’t be serious.” I stare at her, and she flinches. “I’m sorry, I just?—”

“He was very firm,” she says, glancing down at her feet. “I was… I was told to inform you.”

She scurries away, back out of the room and down the hall, and I get up, striding to the door and yanking it back open. Sebastian is leaning up against the wall next to it, and I step out, glaring up at him with my arms crossed.

“I’m not going down for dinner. He can’t expect me to just sit and eat like everything is normal, after?—”

Sebastian looks at me, and I can see him thinking, his face carefully smooth. I stare at him, the same way I looked at Lila.

“You can’t expect me to do that.”

“I don’t,” he says calmly. “But it’s pretty clear your father does, princess. Do you want to fight with him right now?”

“I—” I don’t know how to answer that, and Sebastian pushes himself off the wall, straightening. He’s standing very close tome now, and I catch a waft of his scent again, that smoky, masculine smell.

“I think you want to fight something, princess,” he says softly. “And I can understand that. But fighting your father right now will only make all of this harder on you both. I know he’s asking a lot, but it’ll be easier if you just do it. I promise you that.”

“I—” I lick my lips anxiously, looking up at him, and I could swear, for a moment, his gaze drops to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “You’re right,” I say softly, conceding defeat, and a glimmer of a smile appears on the edge of Sebastian’s mouth for the first time since I emerged for the party last night.

“This is one of those occasions I don’t take pleasure in being right,” he says softly, and I glare at him.

“That smirk on your face says otherwise,” I fire back, and then I freeze, shame washing over me.How could I joke right now? How could I find any humor in anything at all? How could I stand here and playfully bicker with Sebastian like nothing happened?—”

“Estella.” Sebastian’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I suddenly feel his fingers brush against my jaw, turning my face up toward his. The touch sends a bolt of heat through me, and I flinch. His hand drops instantly.

“There’s nothing wrong with finding a moment’s happiness,” he says gently. “With laughing at a joke. Luis wouldn’t want you to be miserable forever, or even for very long at all, I think.”

I jerk back, the sound of his name a fresh wound in my already broken and bleeding heart. “You don’t know what he would want,” I hiss, and spin around, striding back into my room and slamming the door behind me.

The moment I hear it close, I regret snapping at Sebastian. He doesn’t deserve my ire—he’s only trying to help as best as hecan. But he was right about more than just the fact that fighting with my father over going down for dinner isn’t worth it. He was also right that I want to fight someone,anyone. I want to lash out, to hurt someone else the way I’m hurting, and I know that’s not right. Especially not when Sebastian has done all he possibly can to take care of me since last night.

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