Page 33 of Forbidden Sins

The familiar way he says her name makes my teeth grind together until I’m afraid they might crack. The thought of this man touching her, his hands on her, his mouth—I want to kill him where he stands. A kind of violence I’ve never felt before floods me, and it takes everything in me to remain where I am, motionless and observant.

“An excellent idea,” Antony interrupts, sounding pleased. “Perhaps I can even arrange a night out for the two of you. Dinner, the theatre—with appropriate security, of course. Estella’s personal bodyguard, Sebastian, is always with her.” He nods in my direction, and when Nico Adamos turns to look at me, I force myself to give a brusque nod in return. “He and my head of security can handle the details, if it happens.”

“That would be my pleasure,” Nico says, his voice smooth as butter, and Estella gives a tight nod.

“Of course, I’d be delighted,” she manages, but it sounds to me as if she’s speaking through her teeth. “I should mingle, though, Mr. Adamos. It wouldn’t be right for me to give all my attention to just one guest.”

“Until later, then, Miss Gallo.” Nico inclines his head, and I watch as Estella drifts off into the crowd, as elegant and poised as ever. I see her pause to say something to an elderly couple who Antony must have invited to fill out the party—to make it less obvious that this is a parade of eligible bachelors and not just a dinner party—and this time, when she laughs at something the older woman says, it sounds genuine.

The sound makes my chest hurt, and I swallow hard. I’ve taken plenty of women to bed, felt their naked skin against mine, heard their moans and made them come, and yet I’ve never known a woman as intimately as I know Estella.

I’ve seen her happy and exultant and broken and grieving. I know what she loves and what she hates, her secret romantic dreams and her sense of humor, and the desire that’s hidden beneath the surface. After three years at her side, Iknowher—and yet, I might as well be an ocean away from her, for all the good that does me right now, as I watch other men line up to claim her.

The party drags on for three more hours, as I watch Antony introduce Estella to at least six more eligible bachelors, all of them determined to capture her attention. I watch her smile and laugh and politely listen, and I can see from where I’m standing that not a single one of them actually captures her interest.

But they’re all unfailingly interested in her. Some are handsome, some are not, two of them are far too old for her—but I’m sure that none of that has factored into Antony’s decision-making. He cares about their wallets and their connections, neither of which I know Estella gives a shit about.

By midnight, the party has thinned out. Antony is far across the room, deep in conversation with a group of men, leaving Estella on her own. I watch from the vantage point that I’ve held near the buffet table for the last hour as she slips out of the French doors and into the gardens.

I wait exactly a minute before I follow her.

The night air feels warm as I step out into the fragrant gardens, the gravel of the path crunching under my boots as I look for her. I find her over near a spray of rosebushes, faintly illuminated by the nearby lamp hanging from an iron post, a piece of hair that’s fallen free from her updo brushing againsther cheek. The desire to reach over and brush it away is so strong it hurts.

In the faint light, next to the roses with the midnight blue of her dress pooling around her feet, she looks almost ethereal. Like something out of a dream.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” I ask as I walk toward her, and I see her head snap around at the sound of my voice. “Instead of out here alone?”

A ghost of a smile touches her lips. “I’m not alone,” she says smoothly. “You’re here.”

“Estella—” I pause, suddenly aware that we’re a good distance from the entrance to the ballroom. It wouldn’t take long for someone to discover us if they came out to the gardens, but still…we’re alone, for now. And suddenly,alonefeels dangerous.

“Did you enjoy the parade of potential matches?” she asks, her voice deliberately light, but I can hear the sharpness underneath it. “The array of bachelors for me to choose from?”

I stop next to her, far enough away that I can’t accidentally touch her. Her perfume drifts toward me on the warm breeze, something soft and seductive. Jasmine, maybe. My cock twitches just from the scent of her, and I know I should go inside. Hand in my resignation to Antony. I should leave this place and Estella before I do something that will doom us both.

I made her a promise.I swallow hard, breathing shallowly. “They seemed…impressive,” I say finally, choosing my words as neutrally as I can.

Estella lets out a sharp, unladylike bark of a laugh. “They were boring,” she says flatly. “And entitled. They all think they’re entitled to everything. Wealth. Admiration. Power.Me.” She pauses, turning to look at me. “Nico found me again, while I was trying to get something to eat. He spent twenty minutes telling me about his yacht, Sebastian.”

Despite the absolute insanity of the night, I feel my lips twitch. “Horrifying,” I murmur, and Estella laughs again, this time a bit more softly.

“It has an entire room devoted to vodkas.” She looks up at the roses, and then back at me. “Another to whiskeys.”

“That sounds like a nightmare.” I chuckle, and for a moment, it feels as if everything falls away. For that moment, it’s just the two of us, sharing a joke about a self-important billionaire. Estella smiles as our gazes meet, and all I see is her. Her eyes, her lips, her smile. I want to reach for her, and it takes everything in me not to.

Her smile fades, and she turns back to the roses. “He’s going to keep doing this until I choose one of them,” she says finally, drawing in a slow breath and letting it out again. “Or he’ll choose one for me. Either way?—”

I swallow hard. “It’s what men like your father do.”

Estella’s gaze snaps back to mine, and there’s something sharp in her expression. “Is that so?” she challenges. “Should I just be fine with it, then? Should I smile and pick a husband and begratefulfor my lot in life?—”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it?—”

“Are you going to explain to me, like my father did, how I’m anasset? How this marriage is basically a business merger, and this isnormal?” Her eyes flash fire, and she steps closer to me. Her perfume mingles with the smell of the roses, and I feel dizzy with how much I want her.

Her hand rises, touching my chest over my shirt, just above my heart. “You feel something for me,” she challenges. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t, Sebastian?—”

I grab her hand, pulling it away. I can feel the warmth of her hand through my shirt still, even after she’s no longer touching me, and I should let her hand go, but I don’t. “It doesn’t matter.”

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