Two years ago…
Elizabeth
I was in the kitchen making coffee when I heard Seb's voice echo from the stairs.
"Honey? Honey?"
"Yeah?" I lifted my cup, the steam warming my lips.
"Your phone. It's ringing."
He walked in, holding it out. He'd just finished at the gym, sweat glistening down his temples, soaking through his black silk tank top that clung to every muscle. He was a sight—but my attention snagged on the screen he placed in my hand.
No caller ID. Unknown number.
I pressed accept. "Hello?"
"Hi, it's me."
The voice slithered through my ear, and every nerve in me bristled.
"Carlos?" My brow knotted.
"Yeah, it's me. How are you doing?" His tone was casual, almost lazy. Like we were old friends, like I didn't have every reason in the world to hang up and block him.
I set my coffee down hard on the counter, one hand sliding to my hip. "You again? What do you want—and how the hell did you get my number?"
A soft chuckle. "Your father gave it to me."
My chest burned hot. How dare Dad hand out my number like it's nothing? Oh, he hadn't heard the last of this.
"My father gave it to you, huh?" My voice dropped to steel. "Then listen carefully. You go tell that so-called animal who calls himself my father to stay the hell out of my life. And you—don't you ever call me again. If you do, I'll have you arrested, do you hear me?"
Instead of fear, I got laughter.
"Elizabeth, come on," he crooned, like my name was his to touch. Rage tore through me.
"Don't you dare say my name."
But he kept going. "Is it because you're pregnant? Look, I don't mind taking care of a pregnant woman, okay? You're beautiful… hot. From the very moment I saw you, I knew I'd met my guardian angel."
"Stop sweet-coating. I don't know whatever my father fed you with." Probably he told him to shoot his shot, convinced my fiancé wasn't capable. "I'm pregnant, and I'll be getting married soon. Stay out of my life."
"I wish I could, Elizabeth. But you're too beautiful to let slip away. I never knew your beauty radiated like this. I'm sorry, but I'm tamed by you. I can't let this opportunity pass me by."
I snorted. "Do you know what you're getting yourself into? Do you know what my fiancé would do to you if he hears this?"
"I don't care what he thinks or does. All I care about is you, Elizabeth. I'm more capable than that guy you're calling your fiancé—"
The words sent bile to my throat. "What empty promises did my father make to you?"
"Excuse me?"
"Tell me. What did he offer? Our family farmland? That old mansion? What did he dangle in front of you?"
"Elizabeth—"
"Get out of my phone!" My voice rose to a pitch that cracked through the kitchen. "Don't you ever call me again!"
I ended the call and slammed the phone onto the counter. My hands trembled. Jesus. My father is venom. A shameless, unbelievable man. How could he do this to me—his only child?
"Who was that?"
The voice froze me. I spun around, clutching my chest.
Seb leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest, every muscle rigid. His eyes—storm-dark—were locked on me.
"Seb…" I stammered, my throat dry. "Y—you've been standing there for how long?"
He didn't answer. His arms uncrossed, and he strode closer, each step heavy, deliberate.
"Who. Was. That?" His voice was low, dangerous.
I swallowed hard as he stopped in front of me, towering, waiting. "I… it's… it's no one. I—I should go grab something upstairs."
I tried to slip past him, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist, pulling me back into place.
"I said—" his eyes bored into mine—"who was that?"
My chest heaved. If I break now and tell him the truth, there will be a burial ceremony by morning. I had to hold it together.
"Seb, it's not what you think—"
"You're wasting my time, making me ask a question over and over again. And you know I hate repeating myself." His voice was low, restrained, trembling with the weight of fury he was holding back. "I'll ask you one last time, Elizabeth. Who. Was. That?"
My fingers tangled together, trembling. My lips parted but the words snagged in my throat. "I… it's… it's um… a guy named Carlos."
Sebastian's brow lifted—just the sound of another man's name in my mouth lit fire in his eyes. "And how is he related to you?"
I knew exactly what he was insinuating. I shook my head frantically. "Seb, it's not what you think, I swear. He… he's not related to me, and we have nothing in common. He…" I pressed my eyes shut, dragging in air to calm my hammering chest. "My father arranged him for me. For marriage. But—Seb, that was before I met you. I only found out yesterday. I already made it clear to him I want nothing to do with it. I have no business with—"
"Give me your phone." His hand stretched out, palm open, waiting.
My pulse skyrocketed. What is he going to do with it?
"Now, Elizabeth. Hand it over."
I snatched the phone off the counter and dropped it into his waiting palm. "Seb, please. Don't harm him. I talked to him already. He won't bother us again."
"Yeah," he said coolly, "I'll make sure of that."
He pulled his own phone from his pocket, thumbed through my screen, and began dialing.
I gnawed my finger, chest rising and falling, dread crawling through me.
"Bruce," he said when the line connected, "I just sent you a number. Track it and bring the person to me. You have twenty minutes." He hung up without hesitation.
My eyes flew wide. "Seb! I'm begging you, please don't hurt him."
He was already dialing again, unbothered. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm just making sure he doesn't disturb us again."
No. I didn't trust him. Not with that tone, not with that look. Carlos had no idea—he'd just stepped straight into the lion's den.
"Hello, barrister," Seb's voice was smooth, almost casual. "Send me a non-interference agreement to my email. I'll print it out. Yes, right now. You know how I work—I expect it in five minutes. A legal one. Thank you."
When he hung up, I pressed a shaky hand to my chest, fanning my face to breathe. My mind wouldn't rest. I knew something bad was about to happen. I warned Carlos, didn't I? I told him to stay out of my problems. But he didn't listen. And now…
Seb slid his phone back into his pocket, dropped mine onto the counter, and glanced at the forgotten mug beside me. "Why are you so disturbed?" His tone was calm, almost teasing. "Your coffee's getting cold."
"I don't need it anymore." I pushed the mug away.
Seb's phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, answered, "Okay. Yes. It's ready? Good." Then he hung up, leaned down, and brushed a kiss across my lips. "Honey, just a minute. I need to shower and print something out, hmm? I'll be down soon."
I only managed a nod before he vanished into the bedroom.
But fear stabbed me again—sharp, deep. My chest tightened as I paced the lounge, restless, every second heavier than the last.
Fifteen minutes later, the elevator chimed.
I rushed toward it—and froze. My stomach dropped. Danny and Bruce dragged an unconscious Carlos inside, his weight sagging between them.
I gasped. His face was a ruin: a split lip, one eye swollen shut, chin puffed and discolored, shirt smeared with blood, crimson trickling from his nostrils.
"Carlos?" My voice broke.
His head lolled before he finally blinked up at me, dazed. "El… Elizabeth… wh–what wrong… have I committed? Why… why did you ask your men… to ambush me?"
The words shredded me. My throat closed. How do I tell him I had no idea this would be his fate?
Before I could speak, Bruce cracked a vicious slap across his cheek. The sound echoed. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"
I flinched. "Bruce? That's harsh! Isn't the torture enough?"
"On your knees," Danny barked, shoving Carlos's shoulders. Carlos staggered, collapsing onto the floor.
My heart splintered seeing him like this. I had known—my conscience had screamed at me—that something terrible would happen. "Dan, Bruce, please, stop! Don't hit him again."
"We're following orders, Ms. Barros," Danny said flatly.
"Orders? Whose—?"
"Elizabeth…" Carlos's trembling voice cut me off. He coughed, every breath ragged. "Please… tell them… set me free. I don't want to die. I swear—on my life—I'll never touch your marital affairs again. Please… let me go."
"Didn't I tell you to stay quiet?" Bruce's hand cracked across his face again, sending him sprawling sideways.
"Bruce, what is wrong with you?" I shouted, voice raw. "Do you want to kill him?"
We all turned toward the stairs at the sound of footsteps descending.
Sebastian appeared. Each step deliberate. Each echo heavier than the last.
"Ah," he drawled, his grin cutting sharp. "Look who we have here. An intruder. Or should I say… a relationship intruder?"
My chest burned as I rushed to him, eyes stinging red. "You said not to lay a finger on him. Why, Seb? Why did you order this? Look at him—look what they've done to him! I told you, there's nothing between Carlos and me. He was only dancing to my father's tune."
Seb smirked, unbothered, and brushed his thumb over my cheek. "Relax, baby. It's called… a first impression."
He stepped past me, slow and deliberate, until he stood over Carlos's broken form. "Hi, Carlos." His tone was polite, mocking. He extended his hand. "I'm Sebastian. Nice to meet you. How are you?"
My stomach twisted. Don't take it. Don't touch him. It's a trap.
When Carlos only stared, Seb turned back to me with a look of feigned disappointment. "Babe, what's wrong with him? He doesn't understand English? Or maybe he doesn't speak English?"
I lowered my gaze, refusing to answer.
Seb's laugh cracked through the room, manic, hollow. "Oh, I see. Then let's skip the niceties."
His grin vanished, his eyes turning predator-dark. "Sit."
Carlos blinked, lost, still kneeling.
Bruce's hand whipped across his face with a sickening crack. I jumped, the word tearing from my throat: "Jesus!"
"Don't you understand gestures?" Bruce barked. "He said sit!"
Carlos staggered, clutching his cheek, until Danny shoved him onto the couch.
I grabbed Seb's arm, pleading. "Seb, stop. Please. This was your order—then end it. Don't take it further."
He nodded once. "Yes… I'm about to."
He dragged the coffee table in front of Carlos and set a file and pen on it. His voice hardened, all velvet gone. "Sign this. And I don't care if you can't read a word of it. Just. Sign."
Carlos's bloodied face lifted toward me, eyes wild with confusion. "Elizabeth… what is he asking me to sign?"
Seb's head snapped to him, sharp as a blade. "Are you flirting with my fiancée in front of me?" He glanced at Bruce, lips curling. "Did you hear that? He's flirting with my wife-to-be."
Bruce shifted forward, but before Danny's fist could rise, I darted in between. "No! He's not flirting, Seb—he only asked about the file. That's all!"
My eyes locked on Carlos. My voice was a whisper sharp as glass. "Carlos. If you want to see daylight again… sign."
Seb's patience was fracturing. His jaw clenched, veins straining at his temple. "Sign the damn papers. Now."
Without another word, Carlos snatched up the pen and scrawled his signature where Seb pointed.
"Good." Seb smirked, satisfaction dripping from his voice. I shut my eyes in frustration.
"Hendrix, bring me my briefcase."
Hendrix emerged from the shadows, sleek as a wolf, carrying a black office case.
"Hey, Mr. Carlos," Seb said almost cheerfully, pulling out thick bundles of cash. He tossed them at Carlos, who caught them with shaking hands, clutching the money like a lifeline. "I hope that covers your T-fare. And just so you know—you didn't just scribble on paper. You signed a legal document. So next time you think of bypassing my woman or trespassing into my relationship…" His voice dropped, lethal. "…even a dead man will be better off than you."
He flicked a glance at Bruce. "Show him his way out."
"Now, move," Bruce barked, hauling Carlos to his feet.
Danny and Hendrix flanked them, escorting the battered man away.
When the elevator doors shut, silence fell like smoke. Seb turned to me, flashing a victorious smile.
I didn't return it. Instead, I crossed my arms and looked away.
But Sebastian was relentless—still smiling, still waiting, like I was the prize he had already won.
"You're a thug," I said flatly.
He stepped closer, slipping his hands onto my waist. "I agree." His smile sharpened. "And this thug loves you."
"Disgusting." I twisted, trying to shake off his touch, but his grip only tightened.
"Baby…" He pulled a mock-hurt expression. "Why the attitude? What's my offense—because I treated a guy nicely?"
"Nicely?" My laugh came bitter and sharp. "Seb, you almost killed him. And then you tossed him cash like compensation for the damages."
His palm smacked against my backside and I gasped, jerking in his hold. "Stop getting pissed, sweetheart. Anger's no good for the babies."
I glared up at him. "What do you know about pregnancies?"
My hands pressed against his chest, pushing back, but he only leaned in—his breath hot against my skin as his lips grazed the curve of my neck.
"Seb…" My voice came out strained as I tilted my head away, arching back to escape his closeness. "…I'm not in the mood for your little Mommy and Daddy cheeky island games. I'm tired."
"Come on." His lips traced lazy kisses along my nape, each one slower, heavier. "Give Daddy some sugar—for sparing that loser."
"Seb…" I tried to resist his touch.
He finally stopped kissing me and stared into my eyes. "Baby, you're fucking up. I'm touching you and you're pushing me away. Totally not fair."
"I'm not in the mood. I want to sleep." I lied. God, I needed his touch like hell.
He studied me for a moment, eyes dark and searching. "Are you angry because I taught him a lesson? Or because you're too shy to do it in the lounge?"
"I don't know." I broke his gaze, turning away.
"Okay, I'm sorry for beating him up." His tone softened as he pulled me close, brushing a kiss across my cheek. "But I need you now."
I shot him a look. "Now you know how to beg. But when I pleaded with you to let things go with him, you didn't listen."
"Come on, baby. I said I'm sorry." He whined like a spoiled child, then smirked. "At least let me put the cap in. Just the top." He held up his fingers, leaving a tiny gap.
My brows furrowed. "What's this cap and top you're talking about? Enlighten me."
"Come with me, I'll show you." In one swift motion, he scooped me into his arms. I yelped as he carried me away.
---
Narrator
Seb kept glancing at his watch—probably the millionth time by now. He wasn't built for waiting, much less the kind of traffic jam his SUV was trapped in.
Bruce was at the wheel, inching forward uselessly. They'd been stuck for hours, surrounded by a chaos Seb couldn't wrap his head around: music blaring, drums beating, bodies moving. A blur of foreign women and a few young men danced in the streets, glittering in peacock costumes, feathers, sequins, and streaks of wild makeup.
To Seb's eyes, they were practically naked, and the air reeked of sweat, alcohol, and perfume. Some drivers had even abandoned their cars altogether to join the madness.
His jaw clenched when a middle-aged man in the car ahead suddenly leapt out, grabbed a laughing woman in feathers, and disappeared into the crowd.
Seb muttered under his breath and turned up the air conditioner, forcing the chilled air to battle the heat burning in his veins.
Bruce finally broke the silence. "It's the street carnival," he explained, catching the sharp edge of Seb's anger.
He knew Sebastian was trying really hard not to get out of the car and slap every living soul in those damn costumes.
Another glance at his watch: 9:48 p.m. He said nothing to Bruce.
Elizabeth had warned him about the carnival, but he wasn't here for it. Festivals, traditions—none of it appealed to him. The only reason he'd agreed to come at all was the chance to meet her family before the wedding, which was rushing closer with every tick of his watch.
Three days in Brazil, and not once had he managed it. His schedule was eating him alive. A week—that was all they had here. After that, he'd be scattered across the globe chasing business, while she returned to her own work. Tomorrow was supposed to be the day to finally meet her parents. But even tomorrow wasn't clear on his calendar, and he couldn't keep dangling promises he might not keep.
Seb exhaled deeply, leaned back, and shut his eyes—only to snap them open at the sharp knock on the tinted window beside him.
He and Bruce exchanged a look. The knock came from Seb's side. His decision.
Without hesitation, he pressed the button, and the glass slid down. A woman leaned in, her face glowing with glitter and sweat, feathers brushing against the SUV. She looked about his age.
Her smile was all teeth and sparkle as she waved, though her gaze locked hungrily on Seb. Whatever acknowledgment she gave Bruce was fleeting.
Seb's eyes scanned her quickly: an angry-bird costume, minus the mask. Red feathers clung to her pale skin, leaving almost everything exposed—especially her breasts. Only her nipples were covered, and barely so. He had to wrench his gaze away. The Seb of years ago would've already been imagining her in his sheets. But that man was gone. Since Elizabeth, there was no appetite left for anyone else.
"Hello, handsome." Her voice was small and syrupy, tugging his attention back.
He caught the lilt of Portuguese but didn't bother deciphering. Interest drained out of him instantly. Still, politeness forced a smile onto his lips.
"Do you speak English?" he asked flatly.
Her face faltered, the glitter of her smile cracking just a little. She didn't understand a word. Yet she refused to back off, only leaning closer, her grin stretching wider as if persistence could buy her a chance.
"You busy tonight? You look too hot to be left alone. Wanna join the fun or…" She leaned in close, whispering against his ear, "…give me a one-night stand?" Her tongue flicked across her bottom lip, slow and deliberate.
Bruce shifted uneasily in the driver's seat. "Boss, careful. Some of these women are venom." His voice was low, caution heavy in it. He hadn't forgotten that his boss's fiancée was Brazilian too.
Seb said nothing. The woman waited, confident she'd hooked him.
Instead, Seb slid a hand into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and pressed a few crisp dollar notes into her palm. He assumed money was what she wanted when she leaned over like that.
Her eyes lit up instantly, gratitude spilling out in a breathy, "Ah, thank you, handsome." She beamed, almost childlike, before skipping away with her feathers swaying.
Seb hit the button, and the tinted glass slid back up, cutting her off. He let his head fall against the headrest, a sharp sigh escaping him as his gaze fixed on the gridlocked mess of cars ahead.
"These women…" His voice was low, more to himself than to Bruce. "They're dangerous temptation. If a man isn't careful, he'll fall without even realizing it."
Bruce nodded, turning the dial until 2Pac's voice filled the SUV. Only God Can Judge Me thundered through the speakers, raw and defiant.
Seb closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the lyrics steady the edge in his chest. For the first time that night, he felt almost okay.