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.
At one point, Sebastian was my closest friend as well as the person who set my world ablaze.
After him, everything is…ashes.
Sebastian takes Akira’s hand and I can tell the shake is firm as both men stare at each other with pure contemplation.
My husband isn’t the type who shows his emotions openly—or at all, really. But I can sense the way he’s openly watching Sebastian as if trying to read him.
Or intimidate him.
His brown eyes light up beneath his glasses and he seems up for a challenge. I internally shake my head. Why am I not surprised?
“The pleasure is mine,” Sebastian says, his gaze sliding back to me for a fraction of a second as he releases Akira’s hand.
“What do you do, Sebastian?” my husband asks.
“I’m a partner at Weaver & Shaw.”
Law.
Even though I already know it, I’m still in awe to hear that he chose to be a lawyer.
I was well aware of his resentment of politics, but who would’ve thought this was the path Sebastian wanted to follow?
“That’s impressive,” Akira says. “I’ve heard making partner at a young age is an accomplishment.”
“Some might say so.” Sebastian focuses back on me and I feel like a mouse trapped with a cat. “What do you do now, Naomi?”
“I manage Mom’s couture house,” I say in a voice that I’m thankful doesn’t break.
“She’s being humble,” Akira says with a note of pride. “My Naomi is the CEO that no one can keep up with. Not even me.”
Sebastian is quiet for a second and I think I see a muscle tic in his jaw, but then he says, “Do you work together?”
“Not really. I specialize in imports and exports. It’s why we came to the States. I needed to take care of our branch in New York and open a new subsidiary.” Akira pauses. “Speaking of which, I’ve been looking into some law firms to represent me here, and Weaver & Shaw was among the files. Maybe it’s fate that brought you my way.” He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Or my Naomi.”
“Maybe.” Sebastian reaches into his jacket and produces a business card. “Call me whenever you’re ready and I’ll be happy to discuss this further.”
Akira takes the card, studies it for a bit, then nods. “Sounds good.”
I want to step between them and tell them to cut it out.
That this shouldn’t happen.
But something stops me.
The dark look in Sebastian’s eyes and the hidden promise in them.
He’s doing this on purpose, isn’t he? This whole thing is only an excuse so he can insert himself back into my life.
And something tells me it’s not because he’s missed me.
17
Sebastian
She’s married.
Naomi is fucking married.
I try repeating that in my head over and over so I can stop myself from grabbing her and backing her against the fucking wall.
I tell myself that we’re in public, that her husband is right beside her and I can’t possibly yank her back by the hair and let my body talk to hers.
I remind myself of the days and nights I spent wondering why and hating my thoughts and her. I recall the years that went by in radio fucking silence and how I learned to survive after her.
None of those thoughts help in pushing my head in a different direction. Not when I’m barely stopping myself from barging forward and causing a scene neither of us needs.
Do I have to