chapter 67
Elena's POV:
The Bugatti's engine died with a mechanical purr that seemed to echo in the stunned silence.
Through the tinted glass, I could make out nothing of the driver—only the suggestion of movement as the door began to open.
Then he emerged.
Sebastian unfolded from the car with the fluid grace of a predator claiming territory, and the collective intake of breath from my former classmates was almost comical.
Six feet of tailored menace in a charcoal suit, he moved with the unconscious authority of someone who'd never once questioned his right to occupy any space he chose.
The streetlights caught the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows that made him look more dangerous than beautiful—though he was undeniably both.
"Jesus," someone whispered behind me. "Who is that?"
"Look at that car... that's a Bugatti Chiron. That's three million dollars just sitting there."
"Is he a model? An actor? God, that figure..."
"Money like that doesn't just happen. He must be somebody important."
"Sarah, stop drooling. He's clearly here for someone."
The murmur of speculation began immediately, a rising tide of excitement and curiosity that I'd witnessed countless times before.
Women straightened their postures and smoothed their hair; men shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of their own inadequacies. Even Kelly, standing obsequiously beside Vivienne, had turned to look our way, a flash of wonder in her eyes.
But I wasn't watching them. I had no attention to spare for their reactions, because I'd noticed something off in Sebastian's demeanor—something volatile simmering beneath the surface.
Our gazes locked, and the intensity of emotion in his eyes hit me like a physical force, so raw and concentrated that I felt almost dizzy from the impact.
Then he was moving toward us with singular purpose, his long strides eating up the distance while conversations died in his wake, and before I could even draw breath to speak, I was in his arms.
"Elena."
My name on his lips sounded like a prayer answered.
He pulled me against his chest with enough force to drive the air from my lungs, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other splayed possessively across my lower back.
The familiar scent of him—cedar and smoke and something indefinably him—enveloped me completely.
"Sebastian?" I managed against his shoulder, bewildered by his sudden appearance and the intensity of his embrace. What had happened? This wasn't like him at all.
For a long moment, he just held me, his breathing gradually evening out against my hair. Then he pulled back slightly, though his hands remained on my arms, and gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"It's nothing," he said, his voice carrying forced lightness. "I just... missed you."
I stared at him, completely at a loss. Missed me? After four days of carefully orchestrated absence?
"How touching," Kelly's voice cut through the moment like nails on glass, dripping with false sweetness. "No wonder Elena's husband treats her so badly—she's too busy throwing herself at any rich man who'll have her. Though I suppose being someone's dirty little secret is better than being alone."
The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Sebastian's head turned with mechanical precision, his gaze finding Kelly with the inexorable force of a targeting system locking onto prey.
She actually took a step back, her smirk faltering as she met Sebastian's eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice dangerously soft as he took a step forward, drawing me with him. "Were you speaking to my wife just now?"
Kelly's eyes went wide, darting between our faces and then down to our joined hands, where matching wedding bands caught the light with unmistakable clarity. "Your—your wife? That's impossible, she—we thought—"
"I don't care what you thought," Sebastian cut her off smoothly, his tone dropping another degree. "What matters is what happens now. I believe you owe my wife an apology."
Kelly's mouth opened and closed, a flush creeping up her neck. She shifted uneasily in her heels, but something—pride, embarrassment, sheer stubbornness—kept her from backing down entirely.
"I... I was only saying what everyone was thinking," she said, her chin lifting with false bravado even as her voice wavered. "If there was a misunderstanding—"
"I'll give you the last chance to make this right," Sebastian said quietly, the words deceptively gentle but carrying unmistakable finality.
Kelly's gaze swung desperately toward Vivienne, silently pleading for intervention, for rescue, for anything that might extract her from this suddenly dangerous situation.
Sebastian followed her line of sight with deliberate slowness, as if only now registering the other players in this little drama.
Vivienne kept her gaze fixed firmly on the pavement, suddenly fascinated by the cracks in the concrete. But Lucas lifted his head from where he stood by the Bentley's driver door, meeting Sebastian's stare head-on.
The two men regarded each other across the distance—a moment of silent communication that crackled with old tensions and unfinished business.
"Lucas, I thought I'd made myself clear about keeping your distance from my wife," Sebastian said, his tone conversational but edged with threat. "The Ashton family holdings have been recovering nicely from that unfortunate publicity. It would be such a shame if fresh scandals were to surface."
Lucas's jaw tightened, his knuckles white where they gripped the car door. Without a word, he rounded the car and yanked open the passenger door.
"Vivienne. Now."
She didn't need to be told twice. With one last darting glance in our direction, she practically dove into the Bentley. Lucas slammed the door with rather more force than necessary, and within moments they were gone, taillights disappearing around the corner.
The silence they left behind was deafening.
A collective intake of breath rippled through the watching crowd. If Lucas Ashton—heir to the Ashton fortune, a man who commanded respect and fear in his own right—had retreated so quickly, then who exactly was Sebastian Vane?
"Did you see how fast Ashton left?" someone whispered.
"Oh God, I said she was a gold-digger earlier. What if he heard—"
"Shut up, just shut up—"
Kelly stood frozen on the sidewalk, all color drained from her face. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment before the words started spilling out in a terrified rush. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Elena, I didn't know, I swear I didn't know—"
I didn't even glance in her direction. Instead, I tugged gently on Sebastian's hand, leading him toward the Bugatti.
"Let's go home," I said softly. "I'm tired of playing tonight."
Sebastian's attention snapped back to me instantly, the predatory edge softening into something almost concerned.
Without another word, he led me to the Bugatti, helping me into the passenger seat before circling to the driver's side.
The drive back to the Aurora was silent, the city lights blurring past as exhaustion settled into my bones. By the time we reached the penthouse, all I wanted was a hot shower and to wash this entire evening off my skin.
I headed straight for the bedroom, already pulling the pins from my hair as I walked. The hot water of the shower was exactly what I needed, washing away the tension of the evening along with my carefully applied makeup.
When I emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, toweling my hair dry, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Sebastian was sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, just... staring at me. His gray eyes tracked my movement with an intensity that made my heart skip.
"Jesus, Sebastian," I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest. "You scared me. What are you doing?"