Chapter 7: The Young Master Would Do Anything for You

Evelyn's Point of View

"You invited me to come along, and now you're backing out?" Sebastian's smile was warm, his eyes locked on me. "Tell you what. Say something sweet and I'll think about it."

"Sebastian," I said.

He only smiled and said nothing.

I was at my wit's end. "Seb."

"Again." His answer was a single word.

I blinked at him and gave up some ground. "Forget it. I won't go."

That was what I said, but my pouting lips told a different story, one of indignation I didn't dare voice. I must have looked like a wronged little sulk.

"So delicate." He set me down, muttered something under his breath, and turned to leave.

I reached to lock the door, and his voice drifted in from the other side, edged with warning. "This is my house."

Meaning he had a key, and if I wanted to lock him out, I'd better think about whether my small frame could handle what came next.

"I'm not locking it! I'm just closing it." I made my voice as meek as I could.

What else could I do against a man I couldn't outfight or outrun? But I was only giving in for now. Sooner or later, I would escape.

I heard no reply, only the faint creak of someone leaning against the wall. I had the oddest feeling that he was smiling out there, and that the smile could have chased the darkness out of the room.

I dawdled in the bathroom on purpose. When he finally lost patience and came in, I scrambled to the side and stood with my head lowered, as meek as I could manage.

He swept me up again and strode toward the stairs.

At the bottom stood a man in his fifties, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, hands folded respectfully. From his clothes, he had to be the butler.

I squirmed, mortified. "Someone's watching. Put me down!"

Sebastian cut a glance at him. "Winston, what did you see?"

Winston shut his eyes at once. "Nothing at all, sir. The young madam may rest easy."

Sebastian raised a brow at me, one corner of his mouth lifting. "You heard him."

It was such an obvious lie that I couldn't even argue. I buried my face in his shoulder like an ostrich.

"You're dismissed," Sebastian said.

Winston withdrew.

The kitchen was open and European in style. Sebastian turned on the gas burner to boil water and, while it heated, cracked an egg.

It should have been a lovely sight, a handsome man cooking.

Then he crushed his fifth egg without getting it into the bowl, and every pretty image in my head collapsed.

"Madam, this is the young master's first time in a kitchen." A whisper came from behind me.

I turned. Winston, at his age, was peeking around the doorframe with only his eyes showing, like a spy. When I looked, he waved. The contrast was almost endearing.

His old face creased into a grin. "He'd do anything for you, Madam. When are you and the young master going to have a baby?"

I felt my opinion of him soar. Someone ought to give that man an award for Butler of the Year.

My face burned, and I didn't dare answer. I hurried to Sebastian's side. "Let me."

If we waited for him to finish, I'd starve long before breakfast.

"Fine." He nodded, perfectly calm, wiped his hands, and strolled out with a composure so regal you'd never guess he was the one who had just destroyed five eggs.

I took over and fried the egg with practiced ease, then blanched some greens from the fridge.

The whole time, I could feel his eyes on my back. He didn't say a word. If I had turned around, I might have seen how much softness was in them, but I kept my eyes on the pan.

I had just slid two bowls of noodles onto the counter when I turned and found Sebastian standing right behind me. I flinched and stepped back.

I was about to hit the corner of the counter when his hand shot out to shield me, but I'd already moved, and he wasn't fast enough.

His brows drew together.

I glanced back on reflex and saw the back of his hand scraped raw against the sharp edge of the counter, blood welling up.

My stomach dropped, and the words came out before I could stop them. "Why would you sneak up behind me like that? You scared me!"

He didn't answer. He just watched me with those dark, heavy eyes while blood dripped from his hand onto the floor, blooming there like a vivid flower.

It made my chest tighten. "You're bleeding. Let me bandage it."

It wasn't that I cared, I told myself. It was only that he'd gotten hurt because of me. If not for his hand, it would have been my back against that edge.

"You care about me." He said it with seven parts certainty and three parts pleasure.

"I..."

"Think carefully before you answer. If you didn't care, what would it matter to you if I bled to death?" He stepped closer, pressing me to admit it. “Admit that you fake your death. Admit that some part of you still held on to me.”

I froze. I had no idea how to answer. He just waited, eyes locked on mine.

It's not an artery. Nobody dies from this. I decided to tell the truth. "I don't..."

Before I could finish, he swayed, his whole body tipping to one side.

My arms went around his waist before I'd thought about it. "Sebastian! Are you okay?"

The panic in my voice was real, and so was the faint, strange ache that flared in my chest.

He was faster than I was. Even as I reached for him, his arms closed around me. His chin settled into the curve of my shoulder, his warm breath brushing my ear, his voice low and rough. "You can lie to me, but you can't lie to your own heart."

"You tricked me!" It hit me all at once, and I shoved at him, furious. He didn't budge, so I tried prying his hands loose.

"Ow." He sucked in a sharp breath.

My fingertips had come away sticky. Had I pulled at his wound?

"See? Admit it or not, instinct doesn't lie." He sounded completely sure of himself, and his eyes were startlingly bright.

"I..." I wanted to deny it. I wanted to tell him it was just ordinary human sympathy. But I knew what he was like, so I swallowed it. "Can you go get that bandaged now?"

"You do it." One brow arched, smug and certain I'd give in.

My eyes darted around, and I came up with a plan. I raised my voice. "Winston! Your young master is hurt!"

Winston appeared almost instantly with a first-aid kit in hand.

I smirked. Ha. You have your tricks, I have my escape route. But just as I was congratulating myself, the kit was pressed into my hands.

I stared at Winston. ‘What is this?’

"Madam, I'm faint at the sight of blood. I'll leave the young master in your hands." He pressed a hand to his heart, a picture of frailty. "Oh dear, I'm going dizzy. I must step outside."

And he was gone, at a pace that would have shamed a man half his age.

My mouth twitched. Faint at the sight of blood? You just sprinted out of here. Could the acting be any more over the top?

Sebastian poked my cheek with his bleeding hand and complained, "I'm young and handsome, and you'd rather look at a man pushing sixty?"