I smoothed down my oversized sweater, still shaking from Adrian's "negotiation" tactics, and pulled the heavy oak door open. I expected Penelope's hurricane energy and a bottle of expensive Chardonnay.
Instead, I found green eyes and a concerned, gentle smile.
"Sebastian?"
"That's me," he said, his voice a balm compared to the gravelly intensity of the man currently hiding in the library. "I saw the news, Alex. I couldn't just sit in my studio. I had to make sure you were okay."
I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder. He felt safe, like a piece of a childhood that wasn't covered in Reyes-brand trauma. "I'm... I'm hanging in there."
He pulled back, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders. "Where's Adrian? Is he handling this? Because if he's letting those tabloids run wild—"
"He... he's..." I stuttered, my mind flashing to Adrian's current state of "dealing with himself" upstairs.
"I'm right here."
