Page 75 of Dangerous Men
Sebastian considers me, eyes narrowed. Then, with a dismissive snort, he walks away.
“You should hire him for security,”Jade tells me later, during the evening lull while she helps me restock books. I know without asking exactly who she’s referring to.
“We couldn’t afford him,” I scoff. “I don’t know what Alec is paying him, but I’m sure it’s more than this place makes in a year. And let’s not forget, he’s anasshole. And, also, I hate him.”
“He’d do it for free, I bet,” Jade shrugs, ignoring the second half of my statement entirely. “Hell, he’s doing it for free right now.”
“You just like that he appreciates your drinks and pastries,” I tease. Sebastian has been eating breakfast and lunch from the café every day this week and has had nothing but compliments for the food.
“I like a man with good taste, that’s true,” Jade agrees, nodding. “But I think it’s your pastries he’s really interested in, Syd. Not mine.”
I scowl at her suggestive wink.
“I know you’re coming off the high of being right about Alec, but can we please not forget the most important thing here? The whole ‘he’s an asshole’ and ‘I hate him’ thing? He’s done nothing but ignore me, cut me off, and belittle me,” I remind her. “He’s not interested in anything but insulting me, believe me.”
Saying it aloud makes something twist unpleasantly in my stomach. It feels like a lie. Heisinterested in me; I just don’t understand why. Or what his interest means.
I never catch him looking, but it’s like I can feel Sebastian’s eyes on me all day, all over the store. It’s not a friendly feeling. It feels like he’s constantly assessing me, judging me. Waiting for me to make some kind of mistake that he can use to tattle to Alec.
Still, itwasnice to have him step in like that. Like he was looking out for us. And seeing him handle that man? Seeing that dangerous side of him?
It was strangely thrilling.
“Maybe you’re interested in his pastries, too.” Jade laughs, watching me blush.
27
SEBASTIAN
The scene replaysin my head, over and over again.
I can’t stop thinking about it. I stare at the laptop screen in front of me, watching my work pile up. There are accounts to shift through, books to cook, but I can’t focus on anything but that moment. For the rest of the afternoon, I sit in front of my laptop, thinking of nothing else.
Nothing but Sydney, her face tight with exquisite rage, bristling with anger, saying something inaudible but obviously threatening to that waste of oxygen stuffed into cheap polyester. Sydney, looking like she was three seconds away from snapping and ending that man’s life.
For a moment, her eyes were as dark and merciless as Viper’s.
And then, just a few seconds later, it was gone. I watched her swallow down all that beautiful rage and push it back inside herself. Painting that disgusting, pseudo-calm façade on her face.
I fucking hate it.
And I can’t stop thinking about it.
Ignoring my work, I spend a few hours digging deeper into Sydney’s past. I find little beyond what I already knew. Her parents died in a car accident, but this time I pull the full hospital records and discover there was a girl in the backseat at the time who survived with minor injuries. Sydney Sinclair herself. Still, nothing suspicious about that. It might be a little traumatic, but everyone has some trauma in their past.
Doesn’t make her special.
Hacking into her school records gave me a little more information. A perfect angel throughout college, and most of high school after her parents’ death, just as I’d discovered previously. Butbeforethe accident? There were alotof behavioral write-ups from back then. Counselor appointments and suspensions. Fights.
Her behavioral record doesn't sound anything like the Sydney I’ve been watching these last few days. They sound like the write-ups Ashton used to get, after they tried separating us. The first time he was adopted.
By the time they close their shop for the day, and I pack up my things to go, I’m a whirlwind of emotions. It’s bad enough Alec has me on babysitting duty, bad enough that I’m spending every hour of the workday here in this cutesy little store keeping tabs on his little pet. But now she’s in my head too, and I can’t have that.
I need a release.
A few hours in the wet lab would do it. That would be enough to quiet this energy humming inside me and set me right. But with Viper sorting out a few contracting issues in Seneca, and no one currently high enough on our shit list to justify an unexpected visit from me, I’m left with only one other option. A last resort to let off some steam.
The private parking lot beneath the Second Circle hotel is nearly full when I pull my motorcycle into Sterling’s reserved space. It’s not a surprise to see it like this. Of all our business ventures, this has always been the most reliable source of income.
