Darling

XXXIII

Sebastian 

Seb's morning had been shit.

He had barely lasted three hours in the office before the suffocating need to be home—to be near her—had won.

His patience had been thin in meetings, his answers clipped, his mind stuck on the way she had looked at him this morning, her lips parted like she was going to argue when he told her to stay inside. He had kissed her before leaving, a lingering press of ownership, a silent warning that he meant it.

Now, as he stepped out of the car and onto the driveway, an unfamiliar unease crept up his spine.

Something was wrong.

The front door was ajar. His blood went cold.

Seb stormed inside.

And froze.

Graham fucking Montgomery was standing in his foyer.

His father. In his house. Talking to Clementine.

The world snapped into a sharp, ice-cold focus. Clem stood at the top of the staircase, too still, her hands gripping the railing like she was seconds away from running.

Graham turned slowly, smiling like he hadn't just signed his own fucking death warrant.

"Ah, there he is. My son."

Seb's jaw locked, every muscle in his body wound tight.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" His voice was low, lethal.

Graham exhaled, acting as if this was nothing more than a casual family visit. Condescending bastard.

"Relax," Graham drawled, his gaze flicking back to Clem before returning to Seb. "I was just saying hello to your little pet."

Seb saw red.

Before Clem could move, before Graham could let another smug word leave his mouth, Seb was in front of him.

Then, his father was against the wall.

Seb's forearm pressed into his throat, cutting off that insufferable smirk.

"If you ever," he growled, voice deadly calm, "come near her again—"

Graham's lips curved, unfazed. "You'll what?" His voice was mocking, dripping with amusement. "Kill me? Then you'd be just like me, wouldn't you, son?"

Seb's grip tightened instinctively.

For a split second, he imagined it. The satisfaction of squeezing just a little harder, of finally putting an end to this poison.

But that was the thing about Graham. He wanted this.

He wanted Seb to lose control.

Seb forced himself to take a breath, then slowly stepped back.

"Get the fuck out," he said again, his voice quieter now—but no less dangerous.

Graham exhaled, fixing his suit like he hadn't just been seconds away from getting his throat crushed.

"Such a disappointment." His gaze flickered to Clem, a gleam of something dark in his eyes. "It was a pleasure, darling."

Seb nearly lunged again.

But Graham was already turning, walking out of the house like he fucking owned it.

Silence settled like a noose.