I peer between those gorgeous golden eyes of his. "I don’t believe—"
His forehead crinkles in a frown.
"That I’ll ever have that complaint with you, Seb."
His shoulder muscles unwind a little, but he seems far from satisfied.
"The scenes I set for us, when I’m your Dom and I ask you to do things that a sub should do… I make you perform those actions because I know you need it. I understand that you want to give up your choice to me, of your own volition. I’m aware that, by doing that, you let go of your tensions and stresses, and relax completely into the safe space that I’m creating for you. You understand that I won't judge you. That I’ll always be there for you after a scene, to take care of you. That if anytime, anything makes it uncomfortable for you, you simply have to use your safe word and I’ll stop. You get me?"
I nod. Something hot stabs at my chest, and my throat feels scratchy. A pressure builds behind my eyes, and I blink away the tears that are on the verge of spilling. Damn it, why does he have to be so understanding, so self-assured, and yet, so caring? How can one man have all of the traits I’ve been looking for, for so long? The one man I am going to destroy before too long. Why do I have to feel so much for him? Why is it that he couldn’t be horrible, someone I would have loved to hate? Why did he turn out to be the kind of person I’m falling in love with instead?
"Elsa?" he prompts. "You understand what I’m saying, right?"
I nod. "I do. I know you’ll never hurt me or my daughter. I know you’ll do everything to make sure I get custody of her. You’re going to be a wonderful husband, Seb."
Just not mine. When you find out what I've been doing to you, when you find out how I’ve been double-crossing you, you’re going to hate me. And then… You’ll never want to see me again. But I had no choice. I hope you’ll understand, I’m doing what I'm doing because it’s the only way to keep my daughter safe.
He peers into my features and the furrow between his eyebrows deepens. "Why do I get the feeling there’s something here you’re not telling me?"
"There is, actually." I lower my eyelashes, before I raise them back to his face.
"There is?" He leans forward. "Tell me, Princess. You can tell me anything; you know that, right?"
I open my mouth, and god, I’m so tempted to tell him everything.Everything."I'm worried about Fabio." I bite the inside of my cheek. "How do you know he’s not the one who arranged to shoot at us at the restaurant? Either way, he's not going to be happy that we’re married. There's no telling what he might do next."
Seb firms his lips. "He'll have to get past me to hurt you, and I promise you, that's not going to happen."
"What if he hurts you? If something were to happen to you—"
"Nothing’s going to happen to me." He cups my cheek. "Don't you trust me to keep us both safe?"
I search his features, take in the intent that shines in his eyes. I want to believe him; I do. If anyone can ward off the threat posed by Fabio, it's Seb. Besides, there's no way Fabio would actually try to hurt him, would he? Not when he's sent me to Seb to get more information on his family. A shiver snakes up my spine.
"Seb, I..."
He tilts his head, a quizzical look on his features.
"What is it?"
"I... I’m thirsty," I glance away then back at him. "You promised me the best espresso on the Amalfi coast."
As if on cue, Francesco, the owner and chef bustles in with cups of espresso.
Seb draws in a breath and studies me. "This conversation is not over, Princess," he says in a soft voice, but when I pull my hand out from under his, he releases it. Thank god.
Francesco places a tray in front of me, which has the espresso and a small shot glass filled with a clear liquid, as well as a glass of water. He’s placed a similar tray in front of Seb, minus the shot glass.
When he’s taken his leave, I eye the contents of my tray. "I take it that’s grappa?" I point at the shot glass.
"You’re meant to pour it into the espresso and then drink it," Seb explains.
"Alcohol and caffeine. Trust you Italians to think of something this explosive." I laugh.
"It's not that unusual. Thecarajilloin Spain is a similar type of coffee-liquor drink, as well as thekaffekaskandkaffepunchin Scandinavia. This combination is called acaffé corretto."
"You’re not having any?"
"I’m driving." Seb reaches over and pours the contents of the shot glass into my espresso. "Go on; try it."