Chapter 41

Chapter 41
Joanna's POV

The partially open door beckoned me like a forbidden invitation. Taking a deep breath, I finally pushed it wider and slipped inside.

Only a desk lamp lit the study, its warm glow pooling across the massive mahogany desk.

'I'm sorry, Sebastian,' I thought as I tiptoed toward his desk. 'I just need to know the truth about the funding, about the demolition project.'

Neat stacks of papers filled the desk trays – reports, contracts, financial statements. I began leafing through them carefully, making sure not to disturb their original order.

'Where would information about the Bronx project be?' I wondered, scanning the papers for anything related to demolition or housing.

Minutes passed. Nothing suspicious—just routine business documents full of legal jargon I couldn't understand. My heart sank.

'Was Daniel wrong? Or am I just not finding the right documents?'

I was about to reach for the top drawer when footsteps echoed in the hallway.

"Joanna? Are you in here?"

I spun around, frantically shoving papers back into place. Peter stood in the doorway, wearing an apron dusted with flour, his expression curious.

"I—I was just..." My face burned with embarrassment. "I noticed the window was open, and I was worried it might rain tonight, so I came to close it."

Peter glanced at the closed windows, then back at me. We both knew I was lying.

"I see," he said, his voice kind but unconvinced. "Well, I've just made a chicken pizza from scratch. Would you like to try some? It's still hot from the oven."

Relief flooded through me—he was letting it go.

"That sounds wonderful," I said, moving quickly away from the desk. "I love pizza."

As I followed Peter out of the study, my heart was still racing. 'That was close. Too close.'

---

Peter had set two places at the corner of the enormous dining table, somehow making the vast room feel intimate. The pizza smelled amazing – golden crust, melted cheese, and the aroma of herbs and roasted chicken.

"This looks delicious," I said, taking a bite. The taste was incredible. "Wow, Peter, this is better than any restaurant pizza I've had."

Peter smiled at the compliment, but something troubled flickered across his face. He cut his slice slowly, like he was working up to something.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, setting down my fork.

Peter looked up, his kind eyes troubled. "Actually, Joanna, there's something I think you should know." He set his utensils down. "The morning of your mother's surgery – the day you... left – Mr. King had actually planned to let you go."

The pizza turned to ash in my mouth. I swallowed hard. "What do you mean, 'let me go'?"

"He told me to prepare for your departure." Peter's voice was soft. "But then you ran away before he could tell you."

My thoughts scattered. 'Sebastian was going to release me? That day?'

"Why would he..." I couldn't finish the sentence. Everything I thought I knew about Sebastian crumbled.

"I just thought you might have misunderstood Mr. King," Peter continued. "He's not... he's not as bad as he sometimes appears to be."

I stared down at my half-eaten pizza. "Thank you for telling me, Peter."

We ate the rest in silence, my mind spinning. As soon as I could politely excuse myself, I hurried back to my room, Peter's revelation echoing in my head.

'Sebastian, were you really going to let me go? Why didn't you tell me? Should I be grateful, or is this just another manipulation?'

---

After a long shower, I sat on the edge of my bed in my nightgown, toweling my damp hair. My thoughts were still spinning from Peter's revelation.

The sound of a door closing down the hall pulled me from my thoughts. Sebastian was back.

Past ten. I bit my lip, debating whether to go to him. 'I need to apologize for running away. But I still don't know about the demolition project. What if Daniel is right?'

Before I could talk myself out of it, I was already at Sebastian's door, knocking softly.

"Come in," his deep voice called from inside.

I pushed the door open to find Sebastian loosening his tie, his jacket already discarded on a chair. He smelled faintly of whiskey, and exhaustion had softened his usual sharp edges.

"You've been drinking," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned away, walking toward the sitting area of his massive bedroom. "Business dinner."

I followed him, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. "Sebastian, I wanted to say I'm sorry... for running away that day. Peter told me you were actually planning to let me go, and I didn't know..."

Sebastian sank into an armchair, rubbing his temples. "It doesn't matter. As long as you don't mention leaving again."

The usual bite was gone from his voice. He winced.

"Headache?" I asked, moving closer.

He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"My mother taught me a pressure point on the back of the head that helps with headaches," I offered, surprising myself with my boldness. "May I?"

Sebastian looked up, studying me for a moment before giving a slight nod.

I moved behind his chair, my hands trembling slightly as I raised them to the back of his head. My fingers found the spot at the base of his skull, applying gentle pressure.

'This feels so intimate,' I thought, suddenly aware how couple-like this must look. 'Like we're a long-married couple, not... whatever we are.'

I worked gentle circles at the base of his skull. His hair was surprisingly soft, and gradually I felt his muscles relax under my touch.

Without warning, Sebastian reached up and caught my wrist. My breath hitched as he gently pulled me around to face him.

Standing before him, my pulse racing, I couldn't read the expression in his eyes – something dark and hungry, yet vulnerable in a way I'd never seen before.

"Sebastian?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Enough," he said, his voice low and husky.

Time stopped. His thumb traced my pulse point while electricity crackled between us, stealing my breath.

"I should go," I stammered, pulling my hand from his grasp. "It's late. Good night."

I practically fled from his room, closing the door behind me and leaning against it, my heart thundering in my chest. What was that? The way he'd looked at me... it stirred feelings I had no business having.

'This is just Stockholm syndrome,' I told myself firmly. 'He's still the man who kept me here against my will. The man who might be stealing from vulnerable people in the Bronx.'

But lying in bed, I couldn't forget his touch, the warmth of his skin.

---

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. Sebastian had already left for the office by the time I came downstairs for breakfast. I decided to use the opportunity to visit Monica – I needed her level-headed advice more than ever.

The crisp morning air felt good as I walked toward the subway. I'd only gone half a block when a sleek black car pulled up alongside me. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Zayne's smiling face.

"Good morning, Joanna! Hop in. I want to show you something."

I hesitated. "Show me what? I was actually on my way to see a friend..."

Zayne kept smiling. "Don't worry, it won't take long. There's something I think you need to see for yourself." Despite his casual tone, something serious lurked beneath.

'Is this about Sebastian? About the demolition project?'

"Okay," I finally agreed, opening the car door and sliding into the passenger seat. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Zayne replied, pulling away from the curb. "Trust me, Joanna. This is important."