Chapter 95
Lirael
A sharp intake of breath. "Are you safe? We heard about the bridge attack, and then you went dark—"
"I'm in a hospital. Sebastian's hospital, under guard. I need extraction—"
Footsteps outside. The nurse shifting position.
"I can't talk long," I continued urgently.
"Four days from now." Elwin's voice was clipped, efficient. "The Blackwood family has their quarterly gala in Lenaya. Sebastian and all the family elders will be required to attend. The estate security will be at minimum staffing."
Four days. I just had to survive four more days.
"I'll be ready," I whispered.
"We'll have a team standing by. When you get clear of the estate, head for—"
The bathroom door opened. "Miss Blackwood? Are you alright in there?"
"Fine!" I called out, voice higher than intended. "Just give me one more minute!"
"I need to go," I breathed into the phone. "Four days. I'll find a way."
I ended the call, deleted it from the history, and slipped the phone back into my pocket just as the nurse knocked on the stall door.
"I really think we should get you back to bed. You've been in here quite a while..."
"Of course. I'm so sorry." I emerged, making sure to look suitably embarrassed and unsteady. "The cramping is just making everything difficult."
The nurse's expression softened. She supported my elbow as we made our way back down the corridor, the guards falling into step around us. I kept the iPad clutched to my chest, using it to hide the bulge of the phone in my pocket.
We'd almost reached my room when Sebastian appeared at the end of the hallway.
He looked different—shirt slightly rumpled, a wildness in his eyes that made my pulse jump. He strode toward us with purpose, and the guards immediately stepped aside.
"Taking a walk?" he asked, voice deceptively mild as he reached us. "Walked all the way to the bathroom?"
Before I could answer, he'd pulled me into his arms, one hand settling at the small of my back. "Does your stomach still hurt?"
I froze, hyperaware of the phone pressing against my hip. He can't know. There's no way he could know—
"A little," I managed, forcing myself to lean into his chest instead of pulling away. "The nurse was helping me."
"How thoughtful." Sebastian's hand came up to stroke my hair, the gesture almost tender. But I felt his other hand slide down, fingers brushing against my robe pocket.
My heart stopped.
"What's this?" His voice was still mild, but there was an edge to it now. Before I could react, he'd slipped his hand into my pocket and pulled out the phone.
The nurse gasped. "That's—that's my phone! How did you—"
Sebastian held up a hand, silencing her. His gaze locked on mine, and I saw the calculation there, the cold assessment behind the facade of concern.
Think. Think. I need to—
He turned the phone over in his hands, then pressed the power button. The screen lit up, and I watched his thumb move toward the call log.
Empty. I deleted it. I'm sure I deleted it—
But Sebastian didn't check the call log. Instead, he swiped to the photo gallery, and his eyebrows rose fractionally.
The screen filled with images—dozens of them. Sebastian walking through the hospital corridor. Sebastian in his office. Sebastian leaning against a wall, phone to his ear. Every photo was a candid shot, taken from a distance, clearly without his knowledge.
The nurse's face went crimson. "Mr. Blackwood, I—I can explain—"
Sebastian's expression went cold. Not angry, exactly. Something worse. The kind of cold that preceded violence.
"You've been stalking me," he said quietly. "Taking photos without my consent. Keeping them on your personal device."
"I didn't mean—you're just so—I thought—" The nurse was stammering now, face pale beneath the flush. "You're so handsome, I couldn't help myself, I just—"
"Marcus." Sebastian didn't raise his voice, but a guard materialized at his elbow. "Take her to security. I want her employment terminated immediately, and I want a full investigation into how long she's been engaging in this behavior."
"No, please, Mr. Blackwood—" The nurse reached for him, but Marcus caught her arm.
"And file a police report for harassment," Sebastian continued, still in that same quiet tone. "I want this on record."
Marcus nodded and began leading the protesting nurse away. The other guards shifted, filling the space she'd left, and I realized with a sinking feeling that I was now surrounded by Sebastian's people with no buffer.
Sebastian looked down at me, and his expression softened fractionally. "Are you alright? Did she say anything inappropriate to you?"
He thinks I stole the phone because of the photos. He thinks I was jealous.
The realization hit me like a lifeline thrown to a drowning woman. I could work with this. I could use this.
"I just—" I let my voice come out small, uncertain. "I saw her looking at you earlier. The way she looked at you. And then when she left me alone in the bathroom, I got curious, and I..." I trailed off, letting the implication hang.
Sebastian's hand came up to cup my face, tilting my chin so I had to meet his eyes. "You were jealous."
It wasn't a question. I bit my lip, playing the part of embarrassed wife caught snooping.
"I didn't mean to steal her phone," I said quietly. "I just wanted to see if she had... if there was..." I let myself trail off again, as if too ashamed to finish.
Something flickered in Sebastian's eyes—satisfaction, possessiveness, and beneath it all, a dangerous kind of pleasure. He pulled me closer, his other arm wrapping around my waist.
"If you're jealous in the future," he murmured against my temple, "just tell me. Don't torture yourself like this. Don't go sneaking around trying to find evidence of something that doesn't exist."
His lips brushed my forehead, then my cheek. "You're the only woman I see, Lirael. The only one I want. Do you understand?"
I nodded mutely, not trusting my voice. The phone was gone, taken away by Marcus along with the nurse. My one chance to contact Elwin, and Sebastian thought it was all about some pathetic jealousy over a stalker nurse's photo collection.
I should feel relieved. I should be grateful he bought it.
But all I felt was the weight of his arms around me, the heat of his breath against my skin, and the terrible knowledge that I'd just gotten someone fired—possibly arrested—to cover my own tracks.