Page 9 of Forbidden Sins

“We, ah—kissed.” Her cheeks are flushing red, and she promptly stuffs her mouth full of cake as I laugh.

“Is that all?”

“Ofcourse,” she says quickly, swallowing her cake, but I can see from how red her cheeks are turning that that’s not even close to the truth. “I mean—” she cuts her eyes sideways at me again. “How could I say no, ‘Stel? He wasgorgeous. And he looked rich. He offered to take me out next weekend to this restaurant I’ve heard about, but could never afford to go to on my own—” She trails off, her flush deepening. “I probably sound stupid, right?”

“No,” I assure her quickly. “I just wouldn’t expect anything to come of it. But it could be fun, for a little while.”

“Right?” Marilee recovers quickly. “Fun for a little while. That’s all I want, anyway.”

I bite my lip. I would like to know whatfun for a little whilefeels like. What it’s like to just have a casual fling for no other reason than a guy is gorgeous and into me and wants to have fun just as much as I do. Instead, all I’m ever going to experience of love and romance and sex is an impossible crush on my bodyguard, and then probably a husband picked out for me by my father, unless I get very lucky, and?—

“Estella.” Sebastian’s voice comes from behind me, and I jump with a squeak of fright, nearly dropping the china plate in my hand. I spin toward him, immediately unsettled by the way he said my name—myactualname, without a hint of levity in it. Instead, his voice sounds flat and dead serious, sending a chill down my spine. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Sebastian use that tone with me before.

“What?” I press my hand to my chest, trying to slow my heart, which is suddenly beating like a rabbit. “What’s going on, Sebastian?” His expression is deadly serious, too, his mouth set in a hard line and his eyes blank. I’ve never seen him like this, and that cold feeling starts to bleed through my veins.

Something is wrong.

“I need you to come with me. Sorry,” he adds to Marilee, giving her a quick, polite nod. “But you need to come with me, Estella.”

“What—why?” I swallow hard, and Sebastian plucks both the china plate and the glass of champagne from my fingers, setting them on the nearest table as he takes my hand.

“Justcome, Estella,” he says sharply, tugging me along and leaving a startled Marilee in our wake. I hurry after him, trying not to trip in my heels, that feeling of wrongness only intensifying. Sebastian never treats me like this. He’s never dragged me out of a room, or even really touched me all thatoften. His hand around mine is a shock, and dimly, in the back of my head, I register how it feels. Broad and strong and a little rough, encapsulating my much smaller, daintier hand, and a shiver runs through me.

I realize he’s taking me toward the stairs. I look around for my father, but he’s nowhere to be seen. As we reach the staircase, Sebastian tugs me ahead of him, one hand dropping to the small of my back as he gently urges me up the stairs.

It’s then that I realize—he has his gun drawn and in his other hand.

Fear paralyzes me for a moment, making me stop on the first stair. “Sebastian, tell me what’s going on,” I demand, my voice shaking. I never speak tohimthis way either, never order him around like the mafia princess I am, but dread is pulsing through my veins like thick oil, my chest squeezing painfully as I twist around to look at him.

“I can’t tell you anything right now, princess,” he says, and the nickname calms me a little—just as the urgency in his voice makes my pulse ratchet up again. “We need to go upstairs. Just trust me. Please.”

It’s thepleasethat gets my feet moving again. I nod, a small, shaky motion, and my feet numbly start to move, taking me up the stairs with Sebastian close behind.

“Where are we going?” I ask shakily as we reach the landing, and he turns me gently with his hand on my back. The feeling of his fingers touching the small of my back again sends a strange tingling sensation through me—like the feeling of pins and needles after my hand falls asleep from painting too long. I twist to look at him, and he gently urges me forward.

“Your room,” he says quickly. “I need you to stay there, Estella, until I or your father comes to get you. Do you understand?”

The way he says those last few words is gentle—but it feels like a slap, it’s so startling. I’ve never heard him say that to me before, never heard such firmness in his tone. He’s giving me orders, I realize, behaving wholly like my bodyguard instead of my friend—and I feel that chill turn my blood to ice again.

Something must be very, very wrong.

“Sebastian.” I look at him again as we reach the door to my room, balking a little as I look at him with pleading eyes. The blank, false calm on his face terrifies me—what is happening that he’s wearing this mask, instead of the expressions I know so well? “Where’s my brother? Did he ever show up? Why?—”

“Just go inside and lock the door, Estella,” he says sharply, glancing back toward the stairs. “Someone will be up to get you soon, I promise. Juststay put.” His hand grips my arm as he says it, turning me toward him a little, and the intensity in his voice shatters that blank calm that he had a moment ago. “I need you to promise me.”

I stare at him, swallowing hard. “I—okay,” I whisper.

He gives me a small, sudden shake that makes my eyes widen—and a strange warmth pool in my stomach. “Promise, Estella.”

“I promise.” My voice is the smallest, hushed whisper, fear tightening my throat. Sebastian yanks open my bedroom door and nudges me inside, his expression blank and hard once again.

“Good,” he says simply, and closes the door in my face.

4

ESTELLA

Istare at the closed door, trembling all over. I feel as if I’m about to collapse, and I kick off my heels, stumbling over to my bed as I sink down onto the edge of it, gripping the side of the mattress with one hand—as if that could somehow stop the shaking that’s threatening to intensify and make me come apart.

---