Consciousness returned to Selena in slow, heavy waves. For a long time, she didn't open her eyes. She simply existed in the warmth of the sheets, suspended in that fragile limbo where the world hadn't yet demanded anything of her.
Then, the instinct hit. A cold, familiar prickle at the back of her neck.
He's gone.
It was a muscle memory she hated. The last time she'd woken up in this bed, the air had been sharp and sterile, the space beside her not just empty, but abandoned. She braced herself for that hollow ache and finally turned her head.
The pillow was indented, but vacant.
Yet, the room didn't feel cold. It smelled of dark roast coffee and something faintly metallic—the scent of him. The silence wasn't a void; it was a hum.
Selena pulled on her robe, the silk cool against her skin, and followed the sound of a page turning.
She found him in the living area. Sebastian didn't look like a man who had just spent the night in her arms; he looked like a man who owned the morning. His sleeves were folded back with surgical precision, exposing the lean strength of his forearms as he hovered over a spread of documents.
He didn't wait for her to speak. He looked up the second her bare foot hit the hardwood.
"You're awake."
The breath she'd been holding since she opened her eyes finally left her. "I thought you'd vanished," she admitted, her voice still thick with sleep.
"Not today."
There was a weight to those two words. A promise of presence that felt heavier than a legal contract. He gestured to the table, where a spread of breakfast sat waiting—too intentional to be an afterthought.
"You did all this?" she asked, sliding into the seat across from him.
"I was already here. Efficiency dictates I shouldn't let you starve."
She studied him. He was back behind his armor, the professional mask firmly in place, yet his eyes lingered on her a beat too long. "You don't seem like the type to linger, Sebastian. Usually, you're halfway to a board meeting by now."
"Usually," he conceded, setting his pen down. "But the variables changed."
"How so?"
His gaze locked onto hers, steady and uncomfortably direct. "Because you're in the room."
The statement was blunt, devoid of romance, and yet it hit her harder than any flowery sentiment could have. It was a fact. A shift in his gravity.
"You meant it then," she said, her voice dropping. "What you said last night. About me staying."
"I don't waste breath on things I don't mean, Selena."
"You don't do anything halfway, do you?"
A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "It's a losing strategy."
They ate in a silence that felt surprisingly earned. But the peace was fragile. Selena's mind drifted to the edges of their shared world—to the people who weren't there.
"Annelise still hasn't called," Selena noted.
Sebastian didn't even blink. "She won't. She's a cat, Selena. She wanders until the hunger or the boredom brings her back. Don't waste your worry on her."
"You're very cold about it."
"I'm realistic. If she breaks, I fix it. Until then, she's her own problem."
He stood then, the transition from domesticity to command happening in the blink of an eye. He adjusted his cuffs, the silver links clicking like a deadbolt. "Stay in today."
Selena looked up, a fork halfway to her mouth. "We're doing this again?"
"The noise outside is getting louder. The vultures are circling the office, looking for a story. I don't want you to be the punchline."
"So I'm a prisoner?"
"You're a priority," he corrected. He stepped toward her, his presence suddenly overwhelming the small space between them. He hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face up. The kiss was slow, possessive, and tasted of coffee and certainty. "Daniel is downstairs if you need to go anywhere—anywhere but the office. I'll be back early."
"You'd better be," she whispered against his lips.
Then he was gone, and the penthouse felt three times larger than it had a moment ago.
The quiet didn't stay peaceful for long. When Selena's phone vibrated, the name on the screen made her stomach drop. She bypassed the call and dialed Julia instead.
"Selena? God, finally," Julia's voice was frantic.
"I saw the missed calls, Julia. I blocked Mom for a reason."
"It didn't work. She's been calling me every hour. She's seen the photos, Selena. She knows who Sebastian is. Or rather, she knows what he's worth."
Selena leaned against the cold marble of the kitchen island. "And?"
"She's coming back. She said you can't hide a 'gold mine' like that from your own mother. She's convinced you're cutting her out of a deal. She's planning something, Selena. I can hear it in that fake-sweet voice she gets when she's about to ruin someone."
"Let her try," Selena said, though her hand trembled slightly.
"Just be careful. She's not just angry—she's hungry."
The call ended, leaving Selena with a bitter taste in her mouth. The walls of the penthouse, once protective, now felt like they were closing in. Sebastian's "protection" felt too much like a cage, and her mother's "interest" felt too much like a hunt.
By noon, the stillness was suffocating.
She needed to feel the pavement under her feet. She needed to know she could still disappear into a crowd without a bodyguard or a billionaire hovering over her shoulder.
She slipped out the back service entrance, avoiding the lobby where Daniel would be waiting.
The city air was thick and gray, but she inhaled it like it was pure oxygen. She walked for blocks, losing herself in the rhythmic chaos of the afternoon rush. For forty minutes, she was just another woman in a trench coat.
Until she wasn't.
It started as a rhythm. A double-tap of heels on concrete that matched her own. She turned a corner; the sound followed. She slowed to look at a window display; the sound paused.
Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She didn't turn around. She didn't have to.
The quiet of the morning was officially over. Someone was back there. And they weren't just watching.
They were closing the gap.