Stone Rich: Her 1st Experience

Chapter Twenty: Ghosts of Desire

Sebastien sat slumped over at the bar of Club Escape, a half-empty bottle of Greenwood Celebration Whiskey beside him, the amber liquid glinting dully in the dim light. The club had closed hours ago, but Jack had let him stay, his friend too weary to intervene as Sebastien poured himself drink after drink. He had been searching for her, going through every hotel, calling every contact, but she had vanished, leaving behind nothing but an ache that no amount of whiskey could dull.

Jack found him there, head heavy in his hands, the familiar sharp lines of his friend's face softened in a way he had never seen. Sebastien's usual sharpness, his fire, the raw, undeniable strength that exuded from him—all of it had been doused by the look of emptiness in his eyes. Jack picked up the bottle and tapped it against the counter with a clink, pulling Sebastien's head up with a slow, grudging lift.

"You chose wrong, brother," Jack murmured, his voice steady, the edge of disappointment clear. He looked at his friend with a mix of pity and frustration, the weight of what he saw in Sebastien's eyes a harsh reminder of how far he'd fallen.

Sebastien's voice was hoarse, worn down to its very bones. "How do I fix this?" He could hardly recognize the sound of his own plea, his heart twisting in the admission of defeat. Malaya had left more than the city; she'd taken something from him, a part of himself he'd barely known was hers to begin with.

Jack sighed, his eyes holding Sebastien's with the kind of quiet intensity only years of friendship could foster. "Choose her this time," he replied, the words slow and deliberate, "and pray to God that she forgives you."

Sebastien ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing even as a cold numbness overtook his body. He had never been one to chase anyone, let alone beg. But the thought of Malaya out of his life, the memory of her slipping away while he stood stunned in that dim club room... it hollowed him. He had always believed that power and control meant success, and yet here he was, empty-handed, torn apart by the only person who had ever dared to stand her ground against him.

He could still see her standing there, fiery and demanding, holding him captive not by force but by the pure, undeniable magnetism she radiated. He needed to find her, to tell her that she was more than just a threat or a challenge. That in the quiet spaces where he had been alone for so long, she had somehow woven herself into the very fabric of his existence.

Malaya lay motionless in the luxurious, quiet bedroom of the Savannah Airbnb, the early morning sun filtering in through the pale curtains. She hadn't bothered to close them all the way last night, wanting something to wake her from the strange hollowness that filled her every morning since she left. But no amount of light could fill the void Sebastien had carved into her.

She was sure of it—he wanted her, his every touch, every hungry look, every possessive kiss had screamed it. Yet, the memory of his words—the cool, calculating admission that he'd come after her simply because HER Enterprises had gotten in his way—was a reality that didn't match the feverish passion they'd shared. He wanted her, yes. But he had wanted her empire first. And that was something she could never ignore.

Malaya sighed, running a hand over the crisp sheets, the soft texture a stark contrast to the fire she'd felt with him. She had fled, no plan, no sense of direction, just an intense need to get away. The haunting contradiction of desire and betrayal echoed within her like a siren, dragging her to the edge of reason. She had barely been able to tell Dani what to do with the project. All she'd managed was a terse instruction to find a new construction company to finish the development. Dani had, of course, wanted to know more, to get to the heart of Malaya's sudden departure, but Malaya had simply begged her best friend for a little space.

Savannah had always been her sanctuary, a place she could disappear into the winding streets and Spanish moss and forget the world outside. But even here, Sebastien's touch lingered, clinging to her skin like an invisible imprint she couldn't escape. For seven days, she'd tossed and turned, the memory of him a blend of both exquisite pleasure and deep resentment. She closed her eyes, and instantly, she was back in that room, his hands tracing her every curve, his mouth moving over her skin with a hunger that left her dizzy.

Unable to resist the pull, her hands trailed over her body as if to recreate the ghost of his touch. Every inch of her felt sensitized, alive in a way that only he had managed to wake. She shivered as she relived his kisses, his hands, his voice in her ear, rough and demanding. But after a few breathless minutes, she stopped, her body aching, her heart heavier than before. It wasn't enough; it could never be enough. With a resigned sigh, she rolled out of bed and stepped into the shower, hoping the warm water would wash away his lingering presence.