For a second, I'm too stunned to realize what he's doing. But he is already turning around, walking across the basement and up the stairs, before I have time to stop him.

I open my mouth to say something, but he beats me to it.

"I'll get you in the morning," he calls after me. "Eat if you have to. And please… just know that I have to do this." Then I hear the click of a knob, the opening of a door, and then it slamming shut. "Night, angel," Sebastian says.

And then, just like that, I hear nothing at all.

I whip my head around, feeling my heart pound. I start to race up the stairs after him, calling "Sebastian, what are you--" but he's already gone.

I reach the door in the darkness of the basement and start to push it open, but the knob doesn't budge. It's locked. I start shouting, pounding on the door for the second time this week, screaming for Sebastian, begging for him to release me, but no one answers me.

No one, but the darkness. 

Chapter Eleven

Sebastian comes down to the basement first thing in the morning. I slept surprisingly well last night in the warm blanket and sheets he left out for me, and as much as I hate him for locking me up in here like this, I can't help but understand his reasons. He just wants to protect me. He just wants to save me.

He's like me in that way: at the end of it all, he doesn't want to lose anyone else.

While I sleep, I feel my thoughts drifting off, thinking about what Sebastian told me he was: a hitman. He kills for a living. He fucking murders people every single day. It hurts, to imagine that my Sebastian, that the man I'm falling for has blood on his hands--literally and figuratively. It hurts to imagine that he has such a big heart when it comes to me, but such a small one when it comes to his victims, or whoever it is he kills. I want to ask him about it. I want to know who he killed for this cartel that's after us, and why they made him kill the people. I need all of the gory details if I'm going to get over it. I trust Sebastian despite myself, and I know, deep down, that he wasn't lying when he said he hated himself for what he did--and that he didn't have a choice.

Sebastian is a good man, I tell myself.

I don't think it's a lie.

Next, I find myself wondering about the scar on his cheek, the one he refuses to tell me about, and I think about why he doesn't want to talk about why Marco and the rest of the cartel are after him.

I close my eyes. He's hiding things from me, still. Even after everything, he still doesn't trust me. And I don't know why, but I want him to. So, so badly.

I'm still caught up in the thought when Sebastian comes down. There's a click at the top of the stairs, the creak of a door being opened, and then the sound of footsteps heading toward the bottom floor. I watch as Sebastian's silhouette comes into view, lean and muscular, walking slowly toward me. The room is still dark as he makes his way over to me. When he reaches me, he stops, and I can see the familiar flash of blue in his eyes as he stares at me, focusing on my arm. Then, he reaches out and touches my hand, trailing his finger along it slowly, calmly, sending an array of shivers through me. I watch with fascination as his dark fingers touch my pale skin, and I keep my gaze locked on his even though he isn't looking back, listen to the pounding in my heart and the ache in my body as he slowly lifts up my arm and then, before I know what's happening, touches his lips to my bicep. He kisses me gently at first, like kissing me is an art and he has mastered it. He moves his lips along my arm, his kiss all hot and fiery, and I just stand there, unable to move or breathe as he seemingly brings life to my skin. Tingles shoot through me, and the familiar need for him to kiss me elsewhere returns. His lips have that effect on me; they wipe everything else away. Sebastian's kiss is dangerous but so, so right.

"I need to bring you upstairs, angel," Sebastian says roughly, pulling back away from my arm. His gaze is fixated on my breast for a little too long, like he's hesitating, wishing he could kiss me there.

I open my mouth to say something, but his hand is already around mine and I feel myself getting pulled up to my feet. Sebastian leads me across the basement and up the stairs before we can do anything more. As soon as we step through the door and into the kitchen, the light from the house blinds me, and I have to cover my eyes with my hands as Sebastian brings me over to the nearest table.

I can see Sebastian clearly now, though. He's wearing a new, clean suit and black bowtie as he always is--I have no idea where he gets them--and his dark hair is wet and wild. His tan looks even sharper today, standing out among those deep, clear blue eyes of his, and for the billionth time, I'm struck by how incredibly good-looking he is.

"What is your plan?" I ask Sebastian as he makes his way over to the stove, but he ignores my question. Instead, he pulls out a plate and flips over the pan so that the eggs he has been cooking slips onto it, and then he adds bits of pepper, sprinkles some shredded cheese on the top, and slides the plate over to me.

"Here's your breakfast," he says. I have to admit, it smells delicious. I grab a fork and start eating right away.

Sebastian sits on the chair beside me, but he doesn't eat anything. I ignore him at first, trying to hate him for what he did to me. His eyes are locked on the open window in front of us, with that distant glaze to them, like he's back as a teenager, growing up under Jodie's care. He's had a traumatic life, I realize, and not once does he complain. He keeps it in, like a festering wound, and all I want to do is make it better.

After a few minutes, Sebastian turns to me. His eyes are hard and serious, his mouth a flat line. "Do you miss how things were?" he asks after a minute, his voice cool, but also a little wistful. "Do you miss before?"

I put my fork down. "Before?"

"Yes." His stare is unflinching. "When it was just the two of us in Hotel de Galaxias."

I think for a moment, staring at his scruff, then the faded dimples on the corners of his mouth, and I sigh. "Yes," I admit. "Sometimes I miss it."

Sebastian doesn't say anything for a minute. He just keeps watching me, as if he's testing me. "Do you resent me?" he says quietly. "Do you resent me for what I did? For what I… for what I did to you and, for what I did a living?" His voice is as easygoing as it was before, but there's a certain intensity to it, like his question is deeper than just that.

I hesitate. What am I supposed to say? I want to hate him, I really do. In fact, I wish I could hate him. But I can't deny what he means to me, and as I feel his gaze on my body, I decide just to tell the truth. "No," I say, pushing aside my food. "I don't resent you."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, seemingly surprised for a second, but it's gone almost immediately. Then he nods. "Good," he says, more to himself than me.

I lean forward, looking into his deep, tortured eyes. Curiosity trickles in. "Just good?" I ask.

Sebastian continues to stare at me. "I told you, I'm a bad man. I'm going to do something to make you resent me sooner or later, no matter how hard I try. It's just who I am. What I am. So I'm trying to come to terms with it. I don't want to lose you, angel," he says, his voice growing more intense. "I don't want to lose anyone else."

"You won't lose me, Sebastian. You won't ever."

"You don't understand," he growls.

I keep my gaze on him. "Then make me understand, Sebastian," I say quietly.