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203 A Silent Surrender in the Night
203 A Silent Surrender in the Night
“Try harder.” His words were soft but firm. D
“I’m trying not to,” I said quietly.
“Everyone wants something.”
His response came moments later: “I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“What?” I asked, suddenly self–conscious.
“My lawyers are discreet-”
“You confuse me,” he admitted. “Most people want something from me. Money, connections, influence. You keep pushing it all away.”
“It would be all over the tabloids. ‘Fashion designer leaves cheating husband for billionaire Sebastian Sinclair.‘ You don’t need that kind of publicity.”
His expression softened. “I’m not Alistair, Hazel.”
My heart wouldn’t slow down. The rhythm pounded in my ears, a telltale sign of something I wasn’t ready to admit.
His jaw tightened slightly. “You don’t want me associated with your divorce from
Alistair?”
The stairwell offered temporary sanctuary. I leaned against the wall, fingers pressed to my lips as if to hold my runaway thoughts inside. Sebastian’s car still waited downstairs–I could feel his presence even through concrete and steel.
I shook my head. “Not me.”
“I don’t care about gossip.”
“It’s not about discretion.” I turned to face him fully. “I don’t want you involved in that part of my life.”
“I need to file for divorce,” I said abruptly.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
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203 A Silent Surrender in the Night
“As you wish.” He took a turn toward the highway, away from the crowded downtown
streets.
His expression didn’t change. “I can help with that.”
“Didn’t sleep well,” I admitted.
Sebastian arrived precisely at twelve. The sight of him, dressed casually in a black sweater and dark jeans, hit me harder than expected. Sleep deprivation had done nothing to diminish his appeal.
“Because of our conversation?”
Now it stood complete–a fortress of feeling I couldn’t deny.
Our eyes met across the distance. Neither of us moved.
“Actually, can we just drive? I think better in motion.”
My phone buzzed again. “Sweet dreams, Hazel.”
I stared at the message, unsure how to respond. What was I thanking him for? For making me feel things I wasn’t ready to feel? For breaking down walls I’d built for protection?
By morning, I’d made a decision. I needed boundaries–clear lines that neither of us would cross until I sorted out my feelings.
I was falling for Sebastian Sinclair.
The question hung in the air between us. Why was I here? What did I want from Sebastian Sinclair?
I flicked on the living room lamp and moved to the window. Sebastian’s car remained at the curb, a sleek shadow in the night. Even from here, I could make out his silhouette in the backseat. He looked up, as if sensing my gaze.
“No,” I said firmly. “I need to handle this myself.”
Sleep eluded me that night. I tossed and turned, chasing rest that wouldn’t come. Sebastian’s words echoed in my mind, along with the memory of his closeness.
“No one protects me, Hazel. That’s my job.”
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203 A Silent Surrender in the Night
I hugged a pillow to my chest. Trust didn’t come easily anymore. Alistair had seen to
that.
“Then why are you here?” His voice was gentle, curious rather than accusing.
Silence stretched between us. Trees blurred past as we drove without destination. Sebastian eventually pulled into a scenic overlook that offered a view of the city skyline.
## Hazel’s POV
I met his gaze. “Didn’t you say you were willing to wait for me? What, are you getting impatient now?”
I pushed away from the wall and climbed the remaining stairs. My apartment door offered another barrier between me and the truth waiting below.
He didn’t press further, just nodded and pulled into traffic. We drove in silence for several minutes before he spoke again.
My phone buzzed again. Sebastian: “Home safe. Thank you for tonight.”
Before I could decide, another text appeared: “I meant what I said. I’ll wait for you, Hazel. However long it takes.”
My phone vibrated. A text from Sebastian: “Are you okay?”
He parked and turned off the engine, then leaned back in his seat, studying me.
The memory of his head on my shoulder, his warmth against me, played on repeat. Had any man ever needed me like that? Even in Alistair’s most vulnerable moments, he’d maintained distance–emotional if not physical.
“I know that.”
I met his gaze directly. “Because of everything.”
“You look tired,” he said as I slid into the passenger seat.
Sebastian’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “You’re protecting me.”
I looked down at our hands–so close yet not touching. The space between them felt
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203 A Silent Surrender in the Night
symbolic of everything between us.
“Maybe I don’t want anything from you.”
“Do you?” He reached across the console, his hand stopping just short of mine. “Because sometimes it feels like you’re fighting a ghost.”
+225
I collapsed onto my couch, exhausted. Not from physical exertion, but from fighting the current that pulled me toward Sebastian. Tonight, I’d stopped swimming against it, if only for a moment.
Sebastian’s vulnerability felt different. Real. Or was that exactly what he wanted me to
think?
The response came immediately: “I’ll wait until your lights come on.”
“Where would you like to talk? I know a quiet café where we won’t be disturbed.”
The realization wasn’t sudden. It had been building for weeks, brick by careful brick, in moments when he looked at me like I was the only person in the room. In the gentle brush of his hand against mine. In his unwavering support when my world collapsed.
The city gradually gave way to open road. Trees lined the asphalt, creating patterns of light and shadow across the dashboard. Sebastian drove with one hand on the wheel,
calm and focused.
Only then did the car pull away, disappearing around the corner. The space it left seemed emptier than it should.
“I don’t know,” I finally whispered, honesty winning over pride. “That’s what scares me.”
“Well, get used to it.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not dragging you into my mess.”
Three simple words that showed he was still waiting, making sure I was safe. I typed back: “I’m fine. You can go now.”
I sent a simple text: “We need to talk.”
Sebastian’s eyes darkened. My challenge hung in the air between us, a turning point disguised as a simple question.
“I do,” I insisted. “My marriage to Alistair was a mistake. My divorce from him will be my responsibility alone.”
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