Page 12 of The Moon & His Tides
“Any time, Savvy,” I told her, my face a firm mask of charm.
She bit her lip then nodded and got out of the car. I cursed under my breath as soon as she was gone then steadied my still pounding heart with three deep breaths. I cursed again when there was a softtap tapagainst my window and I looked up to see Savannah peering through.
I lowered the pane, but she was already speaking before it was even open an inch.
“I’ve already told you I’m a selfish creature and a greedy one. I take what I want when I want it and I won’t let anything stand in my way on the path to acquiring it. Well, I think you shouldknow, I want you now, Sebastian. I want you now so badly I feel it in my blood like a dangerous drug. So I’m warning you, I’ll find a way to have you.”
I blinked at her, completely blindsided by her speech, so it was incredibly easy for her to lean forward and press a chaste kiss to my slack lips. A kiss that seared itself like a brand into my skin so that even a minute later when she disappeared into the house, and an hour after that when I finally arrived home, and then the next morning when I woke up already on the edge of ejaculation, I felt that kiss tattooed on my mouth.
4
SEBASTIAN
It was difficult to see through the bright lights on the stage that fell away as sheer as a cliff drop to inky blackness over the audience, but he sat in the front row, so he was impossible to miss even in the shadows.
Adam Meyers. Six-time nominee for an Oscar, two-time winner, with literally dozens of other accolades under his belt. Best friend to British royalty and husband to Savannah fucking Meyers.
And he sat in Finborough Theatre on the closing night of a revival production ofBury the Dead,watching me act.
For a brief, uncharacteristic moment of panic, I thought I literally couldn’t go on. My idol was sitting not ten feet from me, so close I could imagine the feel of his eyes on me, hotter than the blazing theatre lights. If there was ever a time that the show could not go on, it was absolutely now.
But then I remembered myself. I’d grown up in Mafia country, hounded from the age of twelve to join the Camorra so that by the time I was a teenager, avoidance was no longer a viable option, and I’d had to use my fists and wits to escapetheir clutches. If I could face down a mean, money-eyed Italian in an alleyway, I could face down a gentile, money-backed Adam Meyers in a clean but slightly decrepit theatre in Kensington, London.
Not only could I withstand it, I could own it. I’d been gorging myself on adversity since I was a child, so this panic, this fear of failure, was nothing but premium fuel to me. I used it. And I bloody well killed it.
In fact, there was no doubt in my mind that I gave the performance of my life, just as there seemed to be no doubt from the audience, given the standing ovation I received at the end of the play.
Afterward, I lingered in our communal changeroom, drinking from a bottle of grappa an overeager, too-interested stagehand bought me opening night because I’d mentioned it was the only liquor I had a taste for. I did not doubt that Adam was out there, mingling with the others at the closing night party with patrons from all over London. Finborough was a smaller theatre, outside the theatre district in the West End, but it was still relatively influential. I’d known it would be a night to hobnob, and I was dressed accordingly, in the only nice suit I owned, one that Cosima had sent me the money to buy. It was all black, from the tip of my tie to the soles of my Santoni leather loafers, and it made the gold of my eyes fucking glow. My hair was tousled, but I wasn’t the type of man to care, and I hadn’t shaved in a few days, so my jaw was defined by the dark shadow of a coming beard. I looked dark and dangerous. Women would flutter around me like butterflies, ready and willing to be trapped in my net, and even some men would circle, tempted like moths to my flame. I was confident in this because I was lucky enough to be born beautiful and loved enough to realize it. Yet there I was, cowering backstage after everyone had joined the party because I was scared of one man.
To be fair, I’d essentially cuckolded him,andhe’d been a hero of mine since I was fifteen. If that wasn’t a landmine to be avoided at all costs, I didn’t know what was.
“Seb?”
I turned to see the overeager stagehand, Maggie, popping her head around the door with a frown.
“You coming? People are asking to see the star of the show,” she told me with a beatific smile.
She was cute, with one of the nicest pair of breasts I’d had the pleasure of seeing half spill out of a top, but I didn’t fuck people I worked with.
I thought of Savannah and amended that thought.
Apparently, I only fucked people I workedfor.
“Are you hiding in here?” she asked me, head cocked and eyes wide because she knew me. She knew Sebastian Lombardi didn’t hide from anything, let alone people. I was a natural-born charmer. Normally, I’d already be out there performing like it was my second show.
“Of course not.” I smiled at her, straightened my shoulders, and made my way toward her where I slung a comfortable arm over her shoulders as I walked us both into the front reception hall. “I was just giving the other actors a chance to shine before I upstaged them.”
She laughed. “I think it’s a bit too late for that. Now, I’ve been tasked to take you straight to Michael so he can introduce his star to investors.”
I allowed myself to be swept up in the meet and greet of theatre politics, wooing my director and producer Michael Horton’s friends as easily as breathing. The familiar routine of hook, reel, and netting conquests lulled me into a false sense of security, so over an hour later, when I finally felt the electric touch of a heavy hand on my shoulder, I wasn’t prepared to turn around into the face of the man I’d been avoiding all night.
I was surprised by Adam Meyers even though I knew enough to be prepared.
No, it was more than that. I waswowedby him.
He was older, of course, though not as old as his wife. There was no silver in his flaxen gold hair, almost brown where it was cut close to his skull at the sides but pure gold in the length on top, a perfect lock falling over his forehead. His face was all steep planes, his jaw so square it made acute angles, his nose a strong bridge and a sharp edge, only a perfectly pressed divot in the middle of his stern chin softened the cut of his haughty, perfect features. He was a tall man, his muscles firm curves under the pressed points of his suit. I wondered if we stood hip to hip if he would be eye level with me. A strange part of me hoped so because Adam’s eyes called someone to sin, bright as Eden’s green grass or Eve’s seductive apple and surrounded by a thicket of brown lashes so long they tangled together.
I blinked and realized I’d been staring too hard, too long at a man I should know very little about.
