Chapter 14: How Many Women Have You Kissed?

Evelyn's Point of View

Of course I remembered.

Half a month ago, Lydia had thrown her birthday party in a private suite at the Champs Hotel, and half the city's socialites and heirs had come. As her best friend, I had helped Chesca plan the whole thing.

"You drank something that night," Lydia pressed. "Do you remember?"

I frowned, and the memory came back piece by piece. "The cocktail."

If I remembered right, Julian was the one who had poured it for me.

Chesca, Lydia, and I had each had one. Soon afterward my limbs went heavy and weak, and Chesca had teased me about being a lightweight. Then Lydia had volunteered to take me upstairs to rest.

So I wasn't a lightweight. I had already been drugged.

"I was terrified, and I'd had too much to drink myself," Lydia said. "I got confused about the floor and took you to Mr. Blackwood's room by mistake." She started kowtowing again. "Evie, please believe me. I never meant to hurt you."

I stared at her. "Then tell me. If you hadn't made that mistake, where would I have ended up?"

She shrank in on herself. "Zachary Ford."

Zachary Ford, the most notorious playboy in the city, who would take anything with a pretty face, and whose reputation for it was known everywhere.

I laughed coldly. "I thought you were my friend, and you were going to hand me over to Zachary Ford to be ruined. What did I ever do to you, Lydia?"

"It was my fault. Please, Evie, for the sake of our friendship, help me," she whimpered. "Besides, if I hadn't made the mistake, Mr. Blackwood would never have noticed you. In a way I'm the matchmaker between you two. You should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" I was so angry I almost laughed.

I was the one who had been schemed against. I was the one who had lost my innocence and been tangled up with Sebastian ever since. And she thought I should be grateful to the person who had caused it.

Lydia nodded hard. "Do you know how many women in this city want to climb into Mr. Blackwood's bed? He's better looking than Julian, and he has far more money and power. You'll have a wonderful life with him."

"Then tell me why I should plead for someone who betrayed me," I said coldly. "I'm not a saint. I won't beg for mercy for the person who set me up."

Lydia froze.

I wound my arms around Sebastian's neck and breathed against his ear. "Seb, thank you for avenging me."

"Take care of it," he said flatly, and stood with me in his arms.

Winston bowed respectfully. "Yes, sir."

I tucked myself against his chest and chose not to listen, not to look, at whatever became of Lydia.

His fingers caught my chin, and a gentle kiss came down. His cool, clean scent wrapped around me and steadied my dizzy, drifting heart.

Our lips touched, and a thread of current ran through every limb. I went soft all over.

In my daze, a stray thought surfaced: How many women has he kissed, to be this good at it?

My body acted before my mind did. I pushed his face away and blurted, "Sebastian, how many women have you kissed?"

It sounded sour, like a young wife catching her husband cheating.

He grinned, wicked as a veteran of a hundred flings. "Is my Evie jealous?"

My face went red. I stuck out my chin. "Who's jealous? I just think you're dirty. Who knows what diseases the women you've kissed might have."

He leaned in, his warm breath on my lips. "If you think I'm dirty, then you think you're dirty. Come here. Let your husband kiss you clean."

I was still blinking when the long kiss ended, and only then did I catch the meaning. He was saying the only woman he had ever kissed was me.

My cheeks heated treacherously. "Sebastian, have you no shame?" I had no idea my limp protest sounded like a lover's coaxing.

He raised a brow, answering as if it were obvious. "I have you. What do I need shame for?"

"..."

Fine. He won at shamelessness. I glared at him, puffed up like a blowfish.

He held me against him, his magnetic voice a little rough. "From now on, don't be sad over people who don't matter."

I stared at him. Was he worried about how I felt over Lydia's betrayal, and teasing me on purpose to take my mind off it? "You're not going to kill her, are you?"

"What do you think?" He toyed with my hair, answering with a question. "What do you want me to do with her?"

I shook my head. "She was heartless to me, but I won't be heartless back. And she's already been punished. Can you let her go?"

He didn't seem surprised. "Three years on, and you're still this soft-hearted."

"Just tell me. Yes or no?"

"I can let her go. But Julian? Will you let him go too?" His eyes pinned me, as if he could see straight through me.

"Julian..." I bit my lip.

He gave a cold laugh. "You don't think I'm framing him."

"No," I said quickly, lost. "I just..."

He finished it for me. "You can't accept that you trusted the wrong man? Or that your best friend and your fiancé joined hands to get rid of you?"

I covered my ears. "Stop. I don't want to know."

He pulled my hands down and murmured against my ear, coaxing. "Evelyn, want to make a bet?"

"On what?" I looked at him like a lamb that had lost its way, bewildered.

"I'll give you a chance to check with Julian yourself." He spoke slowly, one word at a time. "We bet on who answers the phone: Julian, or Chesca."

My head couldn't keep up. "You'd let me contact Julian?"

"If you win, I send you back. If you lose, you stay and settle in as my woman." His low voice was as tempting as a demon's. "One chance. Do you want to bet?"

"Yes," I said, almost before I knew it.

He smiled, thin and cool. "Winston, bring the phone."

Winston brought it in, and his eyes met Sebastian's for the briefest moment.

My fingers trembled as I dialed. After a dragging ten seconds or so, the call connected.

"Who is this?"

A familiar woman's voice.

It was Chesca.

I froze and said nothing. Was she still with Julian, at this hour?

"Who are you? Mm..." A short, breathy, pleasured moan came through the receiver, and to my ears it landed like a thunderclap.