Page 62 of Taken Off Camera
The scale of it all strikes at my nerves. This is where Sebastian comes from. This is the world he inhabits when he’s not slumming it in my modest apartment.
What was I thinking, coming here? What could a cam boy from the wrong side of town possibly mean to someone who wakes up to this every day?
“Don’t,” Saint says, reading my expression. “Don’t you dare back down now.”
I swallow hard, squaring my shoulders. “I’m not.”
“Good. Because that motherfucker owes you answers.” Saint pulls up to the circular portion of the drive, parking with deliberate carelessness. “And I didn’t drive all the way out to Richville to turn around without seeing how the 1% live.”
I stare up at the manor, my palm sweaty on the door handle. The massive oak doors stand thirty feet away, up a flight of stone steps.
Fuck, that’s intimidating.
Saint pops the back door and retrieves the box of cameras, the cardboard sagging under their weight. “You ready for this?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I slam the car door harder than necessary.
The gravel crunches beneath our feet as we approach the steps.
“Are we fucking walking on crystals?” Saint mutters, staring at our feet.
Any other time, I’d stop to stare at the extravagance, but right now, my stomach ties itself into knots, and it takes everything in me to force each foot forward.
Saint matches my pace, the box balanced on his hip. “Remember, you’re the wronged party here. Don’t let him flip the script.”
“I told you, I’ll handle this.”
All those nights I spent wrapped in his arms, all those hours of conversation, the care he showed during my fever, they had to mean something.
I pause at the final step, gathering my courage. “If he doesn’t come out, I’ll tear this place apart room by room until I find him.”
Saint grins, a predatory flash of teeth. “That’s my boy.”
Before we can knock, the heavy door swings inward. A man with golden-brown hair and hazel eyes too much like Sebastian’s fills the entrance. His casual stance belies the assessing way he looks me up anddown, his mouth curving into a knowing smile that raises my hackles.
“Micah Barnes,” he says, my name rolling off his tongue as if we already know each other. “The infamous cam boy who broke Sebastian’s brain. I’m Gabriel. Youngest sibling to the hermit you’re looking for.”
My prepared speech evaporates as confusion replaces anger. “How do you?—”
“Know who you are?” Gabriel leans on the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “The whole family’s been dying to meet you. Sebastian’s been very protective of his little crush.”
“Crush?” An angry flush creeps up my neck. “Crush? He Marked me and disappeared for five days.”
Gabriel throws his head back and laughs, the sound bouncing off the marble foyer behind him. “Well, that explains why he’s been locked in his room, looking like someone ran over his dog. The emotionally constipated idiot actually did it.”
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. “Where is he?”
“Inside, probably watching this whole conversation on the security feed while having a panic attack.” Gabriel waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll comeout, eventually. Always does, once he’s worked through whatever existential crisis he’s having this week.”
“I don’t have time for eventually.” I step forward, forcing Gabriel to move back or collide with me. “Take me to him. Now.”
Gabriel holds up his palms. “Whoa, tiger. Calm down.”
“Don’t tell him to calm down.” Saint sets the box down hard, the thud echoing through the foyer, and positions himself between me and Gabriel. Despite Gabriel being a powerful billionaire, Saint doesn’t back down, using his height to his advantage as he crowds into Gabriel’s space. “He spent five days alone after your brother claimed him and ran. He doesn’t need to calm down. He needs answers.”
Gabriel’s gaze drops from Saint’s face to his boots, then drags back up, a flicker of interest replacing his casual amusement. “And who might you be?”
“The person who’s going to break your jaw if you don’t get Sebastian down here in the next thirty seconds,” Saint growls.
