162 An Unspoken Confession
Hazel’s POV 1
The morning sun streamed through the windows of Kim’s law office as I finished recounting last night’s nightmare.
“This changes everything, Hazel.” Kim closed her notepad, her expression grim but satisfied. “The police report and photos of your injuries will significantly strengthen our case. Alistair’s violent behavior undermines any sympathy play he might attempt with the judge.”
I nodded, wincing as I adjusted my sleeve to cover the purple bruises circling my wrist.
“When’s our next court date?” I asked.
“Three weeks from today. I’ll file the restraining order this afternoon.” Kim leaned forward. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ll survive,” I replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I always do.”
My phone buzzed with a text message. Sebastian.
*Don’t forget our lunch today. I’ll meet you at Skyline at 1:00.*
I’d completely forgotten our plans amid the chaos. Checking my watch, I realized I had just enough time to go home and make myself presentable.
“I have to go,” I told Kim, gathering my purse. “Thank you for fitting me in today.”
“Of course.” She walked me to the door. “And Hazel? Consider staying with a friend for a while. Just until the restraining order is in place.”
I nodded noncommittally. The truth was, I refused to let Alistair drive me from my own home.
Back in my apartment, I stood before the bathroom mirror, assessing the damage. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, and a small cut marked my lower lip where it had caught on my tooth during the struggle. Foundation would hide most of it, but Sebastian was observant. Too observant.
I applied concealer generously, followed by a light dusting of powder. A touch of blush
ha 20.
brought color back to my pale cheeks. By the time I finished, the woman in the mirror looked almost normal. Almost.
The Skyline restaurant occupied the top floor of a downtown high-rise, offering breathtaking views of the city. I arrived early, hoping to settle my nerves before Sebastian appeared.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Shaw,” the hostess greeted me. “Mr. Sinclair called ahead. Your usual table is ready.”
Our usual table. The phrase caught me off guard. When had we developed routines together? When had lunch with Sebastian become a fixture in my life?
I ordered for both of us-salmon for me, steak for him. Medium rare, no sauce. I knew his preferences now, just as he knew mine.
“Starting without me?”
Sebastian’s voice came from behind, making me jump slightly. He moved with an unnerving silence for a man of his stature.
“I thought I’d save time,” I replied, trying to sound casual. “You’re always complaining about your packed schedule.”
He slid into the chair across from me, his dark eyes scanning my face with unsettling intensity.
“You look tired,” he said bluntly.
“Thanks. Every woman loves hearing that.”
His lips quirked into a half-smile. “You know what I mean.”
I reached for my water glass just as Sebastian’s hand shot out, capturing my wrist with gentle but firm pressure. His thumb brushed over the poorly concealed bruises.
“What happened?” His voice was deceptively soft, but I recognized the dangerous undercurrent.
“It’s nothing.” I tried to pull away. “I bumped into a door.”
Sebastian’s eyes hardened. “Show me your other hand.”
“What?”
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162 An Unspoken Confession
“Your other hand, Hazel.”
Reluctantly, I extended my left hand. The matching bruises there made my lie obvious. Doors don’t grab both wrists simultaneously.
Sebastian released me, his jaw tight. “Tell me everything. Now.”
Something in his tone brooked no argument. I sighed, shoulders slumping.
“Alistair showed up at my apartment last night. Drunk. Violent.” I kept my voice low, aware of nearby diners. “He tried to force his way in, saying he wanted ‘one more night’
with me.”
Sebastian’s face transformed, his usual composed expression giving way to cold fury.
“The police arrested him,” I continued quickly. “I’m filing a restraining order today.”
“Names,” Sebastian demanded, pulling out his phone.
“What?”
“The officers who responded. The detective assigned to your case. Your lawyer. I want their names.”
My stomach tightened. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to make sure this divorce moves forward immediately, with terms exceedingly favorable to you.” His fingers hovered over his phone screen. “Alistair will be lucky if he walks away with the clothes on his back.”
Panic surged through me. I reached across the table, covering his phone with my hand.
“No, Sebastian. Please.”
His eyes met mine, questioning.
ppreciate your concern, truly.” I chose my words carefully. “But if you get involved, it’il only make things worse. Alistair already suspects something between us. If you interfere with the divorce…”
“Let him suspect,” Sebastian said dismissively. “I don’t care what that pathetic excuse for a man thinks.”
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162 An Unspoken Confession
“But I care about your reputation.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “You’re respected in this city. The last thing you need is to be dragged into my messy divorce, with gossip about you being the reason for it.”
Sebastian’s expression softened slightly. He set his phone down and leaned forward.
“Hazel, do you really think I care about gossip? About what people say?”
“You should. Your family name—’
“Can withstand scrutiny.” He reached for my hand again, this time holding it gently. “I’m more concerned about you. About these.” His thumb traced the edge of a bruise.
My skin tingled where he touched me. I pulled my hand back, suddenly flustered by his proximity, by the intensity of his gaze.
“I can handle Alistair,” I insisted. “I have legal counsel, police reports, everything I need to ensure a fair settlement.”
“Fair?” Sebastian scoffed. “After what he did to you, fair would be taking everything.”
The server arrived with our food, momentarily defusing the tension. Sebastian sat back, his expression unreadable as the plates were placed before us.
When we were alone again, Sebastian picked up his fork but didn’t eat.
“People talk about us anyway,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”
Heat crept up my neck. “They shouldn’t. There’s nothing to talk about.””
“Isn’t there?”
His direct question caught me off guard. The air between us felt charged, heavy with unspoken words.
“Sebastian, I-
“Because if there is,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, “if there’s something here worth talking about, I don’t want to hide it.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. This conversation was veering into dangerous territory-territory I wasn’t prepared to explore while my life was in shambles. “Hazel, I-”
08:25
“This salmon is incredible,” I blurted out, cutting him off. “You should try your steak before it gets cold.”
Sebastian fell silent, his expression closing off as surely as if a door had slammed. He picked up his knife and fork, methodically cutting his steak without another word.
The weight of what had almost happened-what I had deliberately prevented-settled between us like a physical presence, making each bite of food taste like ash in my
mouth.
