chapter 61
Elena's POV:
My silk nightgown clung to my skin as I pressed my back against our bedroom door, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
The hallway outside remained silent, but I didn't dare move.
I'd only wanted a glass of water. That's all. My throat had been parched, and I'd slipped out of bed so carefully.
Then I'd heard voices from the living room—Sebastian's low rumble mixed with Nicholas's slurred desperation. I should have turned back immediately. Should have returned to bed and pretended I'd heard nothing.
But the word "pregnant" had frozen me in place, and before I knew it, I was pressed against the wall like some common eavesdropper, straining to catch every word about this mysterious Rose who'd left Nicholas while carrying his child.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place—Nicholas's drunken state, his desperate appearance at our door in the middle of the night, the raw pain in his voice. So this was why he'd been drowning himself in alcohol. He was heartbroken.
The realization sparked an unexpected curiosity in me. I leaned closer to the wall, eager to hear more details about this mysterious Rose and what had driven her away.
Just as I was settling in for what promised to be a fascinating story, I heard movement—the unmistakable sound of Nicholas setting down his glass and Sebastian's footsteps moving across the room.
They were leaving. My heart leaped into my throat as I realized I was about to be caught red-handed. I spun around too quickly, my shoulder bumping against the wall with a soft thud that seemed to echo like thunder in the quiet penthouse.
Panicking, I practically flew down the hallway, my bare feet silent on the floor, silk nightgown fluttering behind me as I disappeared around the corner.
Had Sebastian seen me? That final moment when his head had snapped toward the hallway—had he actually spotted my nightgown disappearing around the corner, or had I been quick enough? The uncertainty made my stomach churn.
I could hear footsteps in the hallway now, measured and deliberate. My heart racing, I dove into bed, yanking the covers up to my chin and forcing my breathing to slow. I turned onto my side, facing away from the door, and closed my eyes, praying I could pull off the illusion of peaceful sleep.
The door opened with that distinctive quiet click Sebastian had perfected—loud enough to announce his presence but soft enough not to wake someone truly sleeping.
I kept my breathing steady and even, though my pulse thundered in my ears. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed, and I felt his gaze on me like a physical touch.
For several long moments, neither of us moved. Then his voice cut through the silence, tinged with amusement: "Your performance needs work, darling. People who are actually asleep don't breathe quite so irregularly."
I gave up the pretense with a sigh, rolling onto my back to find him watching me with that familiar half-smile. The game was up before it had even begun.
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze despite the heat flooding my cheeks.
There was no point in pretending now—he'd clearly seen me. "I was thirsty," I said, then sighed at his raised eyebrow. "Fine. Yes, I was listening. Are you going to lecture me about privacy?"
"I have no privacy in front of you," he said, moving closer, and I caught the faint scent of whiskey on his clothes from being near Nicholas. "Though I'm curious what you found so fascinating about Nicholas's drunken ramblings."
I slumped against the bed, abandoning any pretense. "I just... I was surprised to hear that Rose left while carrying his child. What exactly happened between them?"
Sebastian studied me for a moment, something shifting in his expression. He gestured toward the bed. "Come here."
I hesitated, but the gentle command in his voice drew me forward. When I moved to him, he pulled back the covers and waited until I'd settled against the pillows before joining me. His arm came around my shoulders, drawing me against his chest.
"Better?" he murmured against my hair.
"You're stalling," I accused, though I made no move to pull away. "Are you going to tell me or not?"
His chest rumbled with a low chuckle. "So impatient." His fingers traced absent patterns on my shoulder as he gathered his thoughts. "Nicholas and Rose were childhood sweethearts, though it didn't start that way. Rose was actually a scholarship student that Nicholas's family sponsored. They put her in the same class as us when we were children, hoping her academic excellence would rub off on us."
He paused, his hand continuing its soothing motion on my shoulder.
"Nicholas did improve his grades, but somewhere between study sessions and shared classes, they fell in love. By the time they reached university, they were inseparable. Engaged by twenty-two, planning a spring wedding."
I could picture it—the lovely couple, blessed by fortune. "What went wrong?"
Sebastian's hand stilled on my shoulder. "Before the wedding, Rose was kidnapped. Along with Nicholas's younger sister, Sophia. The kidnappers gave him a choice—he could only save one."
The words hung heavy in the darkness. I pulled back slightly to look at his face, seeing the grim set of his jaw. "He chose his sister."
Watching the man who claimed to love her above all else choose someone else? Hearing him make that calculation, weigh her life against another's, and find her less essential? That kind of wound doesn't heal."
The tragedy of it settled over me like a weight. I could understand Nicholas's impossible choice, the agony of having to pick between two people he loved. But I could also feel Rose's devastation, the fundamental betrayal of discovering you weren't the priority you'd believed yourself to be.
"We can't blame her," I said quietly. "If it were me..." I trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Sebastian's hand came up to cup my chin, tilting my face toward his.
In the darkness, his eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that stole my breath. "It would never be you," he said, his voice rough with conviction. "Do you understand? You are my first priority, my only priority. Always."
I studied his face in the dim light, tracing the sharp angles and shadows with my eyes. He waited, patient for once, letting me process his words without pushing for a response. Finally, I let out a long breath and settled back against his chest.
"You know," I said softly, "you could try not caring so much. It might be easier for both of us."