Page 44 of Sebastian's Secret

It was starting to feel more than a psychiatric assessment than a post-coital cuddle, but Rebecca had to admit she felt better for bearing her soul. She’d never been able to tell anyone this stuff before. Everyone in her life always knew her father and she couldn’t risk her words getting back to him.

“Whatever you want to share.” Sebastian glanced to where he’d left the drinks. “Fancy your gin now?”

“You read my mind,” she answered, shifting to climb from his lap.

“You stay there,” he instructed, rising and collecting the drinks. He carried all three glasses at the same time, placing them on the small table by the couch. “There’s your gin and tonic.” He passed her the appropriate glass. “The other’s water if you want it.”

“Thank you.” Had she ever met anyone who took care of her needs the way Sebastian did? She couldn’t recall if she had.

“My father is a narcissist.” She snorted. “The worst possible kind of man. He uses his money and influence to extort and intimidate people, including his family.”

“I’m sorry, beautiful.” Sebastian frowned. “Does he… intimidate you?” The word didn’t quite express what she was sure Sebastian was asking.

“Frequently.” It was easier to admit than she expected. “He manipulates, tries to make people feel guilty and obligated, and when that doesn’t work, he uses his fists.”

“Rebecca.” Sebastian’s voice deepened, the change capturing her focus.

“Yes?”

“I want to ask you something I asked once before. You told me then that you didn’t want to answer and if that’s still the case then that’s okay, but…”

“Ask,” she prompted, sensing that she knew where the conversation was headed, but oddly, that she was ready to talk in a way that had evaded her earlier. Intimacy with Sebastian was like a shot of cocaine rushing through her veins. She knew it was dangerous, could open doors she might never want to close again, but somehow, she couldn’t resist its allure.

“Did he hurt you? Earlier?” His brows knitted, though she could see how hard he was trying to remain unmoved.

“He has.” She hesitated, certain that she shouldn’t be telling him this. Her father’s face appeared in her mind and she gulped at her drink for moral support.

“How?” Sebastian pulled in a breath. “What has he done?”

It doesn’t matter.

The answer was there on the tip of her tongue, ready to dismiss her father’s offenses as she had done so many times before, but something about the look in Sebastian’s gaze prevented it, made her hold it back.

“He’s hit me.” Simmering shame seared through her system, just as it always did when she thought about her father’s behavior. She loathed him for that, for the legacy he’d left. “He hits me sometimes.”

“Rebecca.” Sebastian’s voice was loaded with emotion. “He should never have done that.”

“I know.” She gripped her glass harder.

“Do you?” He edged closer. “Because sometimes perpetrators are good at twisting things, at making it sound like victims merited what they dished out.”

“Yeah, he does that. He does it to us all.”

Her thoughts shifted to her mother, Gloria, who’d lived with Jonas’ anger for so many decades that Rebecca could only assume she’d normalized it. Perhaps they all had? Oliver was certainly a chip off the old block. Perpetually irritated and rude, his disrespect was legendary, but Rebecca couldn’t help wonder if their father hadn’t played his part in ruining her brother.

“He hasn’t hit me for a long time.” Lifting her gaze, she met Sebastian’s eyes. She needed him to know that, to know that since she’d become a woman, she hadn’t allowed it. Untold emotions raged in Sebastian’s face, feelings he was no doubt keeping in check for her benefit.

“Because you leave before he has the opportunity?” His eyes closed briefly as though he was imagining the scene. “Like tonight?”

“Yes, like tonight.” Like every damn time she was compelled to be around her father.

“Rebecca.” He moved nearer, collecting her in his arms as if she were nothing but a rag doll and depositing her back on his lap. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that. You deserve love and respect, but it doesn’t sound like that’s what you’ve experienced.”

“No.” It sounded even worse when he put it that way.

“Do you mind if I give my opinion?”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked before they gave me their opinion before.” She wanted to laugh at how depressing that was.