Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
The same throat that I’ve grabbed countless times and have marked just as many.
Her arm is looped around an Asian man’s who is wearing frameless glasses.
Her lips part when my eyes connect with hers. They’re also the same, dark, haunting, but they’re now a little bit strange, a little bit changed.
A little bit far away.
She inhales a breath, which from this distance, I can almost hear, then feel trickling against my fucking skin.
It’s her.
Naomi.
The one who broke me.
Broke us.
Now, it’s time I do the same.
16
Naomi
How is it possible for years to blur together as if they never existed?
A single moment.
A single glance.
A single second of eye contact.
And it all bursts back in as if it were never gone. All the details are still the same but somehow not.
The tropical green color of his eyes has darkened, almost dulled. His sharp features have lost all playfulness and they’re now gloomier, more serious.
More lethal.
Any boyishness has disappeared and he’s all man now. Masculinity drips from every part of him, whether it’s the cut of his jaw, the dip in his heavy brows, or the thick veins covering the back of his hand as he grips the glass of champagne.
Unlike his haphazard look in the past, his hair is styled. The tuxedo is fitted to his developed body. He’s still as tall and muscular as in my memories, although he’s no longer an athlete.
There are a lot of things that he no longer possesses. Like the gleam in his eyes.
Maybe that part of him died.
Just like many parts of me did.
I’ve always thought about the time I’d meet Sebastian again. In my mind, I was sure that our paths would cross.
Maybe in Blackwood if I summoned the courage to go back. Or in New York, where he currently lives. Or in Japan, if he ever came over for business.
I subconsciously created all sorts of scenarios in my head about how I’d react. I trained myself to be unaffected, to only show a façade. I even practiced it in front of the mirror so I wouldn’t make mistakes.
So I would act like I’m supposed to.
But I should’ve known better.
Nothing could have prepared me for the moment when I’m face-to-face with him.
His eyes peering into mine, even from a distance, feel like lava on my skin, burning it and melting into my soul.
The effect is a lot stronger than I could’ve ever anticipated and I find myself gripping Akira’s arm harder, needing some sort of an anchor against the storm that’s ripping me apart and dragging me under.
It’s silent, but I can hear the slow rise in volume within me until the explosion fills my head.
Don’t come here. I say with my eyes. Just go away.
But again, I should’ve known better.
Sebastian only does what Sebastian wants and fuck everyone else. One trait that apparently hasn’t changed.
His blank expression darkens as he moves in our direction. His sure strides eat up the distance and what remains of my nerves in a few seconds.
Judging by the powerful way he moves, I expect that he’ll scoop me up in his arms and take me away. Or maybe he’ll grab me by the throat and back me against the wall.
The base of my stomach tightens at the image and it takes everything in me not to squirm.
He does neither, of course, and I don’t know if the lump that’s blocking my breathing is due to relief or something entirely different.
Sebastian stops right in front of us and I suck in a sharp breath, praying that my emotions aren’t painted on my face for everyone to see.
For him to see.
His intense gaze falls on me exclusively, as if I’m the only one here. There’s no warmth in it, no welcoming smile. Only dark depths and a harsh interior that he wraps so well in a groomed, just-out-of-a-photo-shoot look.
“Long time no see, Naomi.”
Oh, fuck.
The sound of my name in his deep, slightly raspy voice is making me weaker than I ever imagined it could.
His voice is manlier, too. He’s aged like Nate—elegantly, sharply.
Coldly.
“Sebastian,” I greet back, using the professional tone I reserve for business, then tug on Akira’s arm. “This is my husband, Akira Mori.”
Sebastian’s focus goes to my finger, and for an irrational second, I want to rip the ring off of it. Then his gaze flits to Akira’s matching ring and I expect his expression to darken, but his eyes remain the same.
In fact, the void in them deepens. If I somehow stared into them hard enough, I’d be dragged into a bottomless abyss.
“Akira…” I continue with a smile. “This is Sebastian. We went to the same college. The one I told you about in Blackwood.”
“Right, yes.” Akira offers his hand, speaking with a subtle accent. “It’s always nice to meet Naomi’s friends.”
We were anything but friends, I want to say, but soon realize just how wrong that statement is.