Chapter 33: My Dark Prince: Chapter 32

Dallas would arrive to babysit me any moment now.

That left me with a few minutes all on my own. House staff milled about, completing their tasks without paying me any attention. Not many and nowhere on the second floor.

Jackpot.

As soon as Oliver’s Maserati (how many freaking cars did we own?) slid out of the 12-car garage, I dashed from the foyer window and up the curved staircase.

Guilt flared inside me as I made my way to the forbidden annex of the house. Oliver had explicitly asked me not to venture into the south wing. But he had no right to lock off an entire section of our home from me.

We were equals.

And he was lying about the hoarder thing.

Plus, he’d admitted to keeping things from me so as not to upset me, like the mysterious argument we had before my accident. If I didn’t take the initiative to hunt down the truth for myself, I might never find out.

Trio and Geezer clipped at my heels as I inched into the closed-off section of the property. A long, curved hallway stretched into the distance without a visible end, dark and dank with the stuffy air of an abandoned house.

Black-out curtains eclipsed the natural light. With my phone at a tech repair shop, I relied on the dogs to guide me in the dark. We walked for an entire minute before reaching some kind of pet gate.

Trio and Geezer stopped at my feet, looking up at me.

“You’ve never been here before, huh?” I unlatched the lock and swung the gate open. “My fiancé better not be hiding trafficked exotic animals in there.”

The dogs waited for me to step inside before following suit. With Geezer on his skateboard, tummy flushed against it, we kept the pace slow.

“Don’t worry, buddy.” I reached down to pat his head. “Mommy won’t leave your side.”

I straightened, startled to find piles upon piles of random knick-knacks scattered around. Maybe I’d miscalculated. Perhaps my fiancé did have a hoarding problem. Eyes squinted, I struggled to make out the objects. Some still remained in boxes, wrapped prettily with satin bows hugging the thick colorful cardboard.

I scooped Trio into my arms, scratching the back of his ear. “Maybe Daddy does have a hoarding problem.”

We continued down the corridor, careful to avoid the boxes that flanked both sides. Eventually, Geezer kept running into them, so I swapped him with his brother, tucking his skateboard under my arm as I held him.

The corridor seemed to go on forever before we reached the pinnacle of the wing, which consisted of a round family room area and other rooms. I blinked, confused. The place seemed tidy and very much lived-in.

A rowing tournament played on the screen of the obnoxious hundred-inch TV mounted on the wall. I inventoried the dimly lit room. One half-drunk iced soda on the coffee table. A stack of schoolbooks open beside it. A 5,000-piece puzzle, almost finished, sprawled right next to them.

The crackle of a radio floated from one of the rooms. Commentators of a sports show described a horse-racing competition over the roars of a cheering crowd.

Trio cocked his head sideways, giving me a whine that conveyed his bad feeling.

“It’s okay. You can stay here. I’ll go explore.”

Someone lived here. And I had no idea who it was. Or why.

I set Geezer down on his skateboard, my heart thrashing its way out of my chest. He wheeled over to the couch and slumped on the rug against it. The radio came from the furthest room, but I decided to try the closest door first.

I knocked, desperate to hear a response through my deafening pulse. Silence greeted me on the other side. I pushed the door open to find a state-of-the-art home gym. Empty. Rows of equipment stretched before me. A bench press, Smith machine, and an extensive dumbbell rack, but also parallel bars, a treatment table, and mobility sticks. Physical therapy equipment.

Was someone healing here? It made sense. The place was secluded enough, with a chunk of the lake all to itself, away from the prying eyes of the neighbors.

I stared out the window at the view. A small boatshed bordered the lake. During my initial tour of the place, I’d caught sight of rowing boats inside. Shells, as Sebastian used to call them. He was obsessed with the sport. But this PT equipment couldn’t belong to him. He didn’t hide from the world. On the contrary, he graced it with his dazzling beauty and charm.

More confused than before, I weaved out of the room and knocked on the second door. Again, no answer. I opened it. This time, a fully equipped kitchen greeted me. It included a microwave, two ovens, and a stovetop. In the corner, glass doors covered an industrial fridge, giving me a direct view of the shelves inside. Colorful fruit, veggies, meats, and cheeses.

“Jesus, Ollie. If you really are hiding trafficked animals in here—”

I stumbled backwards.

My back hit something firm and tall. I gasped, spinning around to find a decorative plant.

“Goddammit.”

I shook my head and left for the third door. I knocked. No answer again, but this time, I swore I heard something shuffling inside. A piece of furniture scraping. My hands grew clammy.

I knocked again.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Thump, thump, thump, banged my heart.

With a hard gulp, I twisted the door handle and pushed, just a couple inches. Near total darkness blanketed the room. Both curtains drew across the window, leaving the slightest beams of light at the edges.

I could make out some furniture. A four-poster bed, a dresser, and an array of trophies and certificates displayed on mounted shelves. My heart lodged in my throat. I could hardly breathe. I wedged my head between the door and its frame, catching my first glimpse of him.

Sebastian.

The most beautiful boy to ever live.

He sat there with his back to me, his silhouette breathtakingly imperial. His triangle torso, corded with muscles, was hunched. His curls – still honey-hued, I could tell, even in the dark – laced around his ears and the back of his neck like the Laocoon and His Son sculpture.

“Seb?” I whispered.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked about him once since I’d woken from the comacussion. Up until the dinner, I’d just assumed he was out and about, conquering the world one charming smirk at a time.

He was always the prized son. The athlete. The cunning brother. The ambitious Count. Oliver used to joke that Seb should have come first. His parents would have liked that. But I wasn’t so sure. The von Bismarcks showered both their kids with love. If they preferred Sebastian, they never showed it.

Seb didn’t answer. If it weren’t for the slight movement of his back every time he breathed, I would think he was a statue.

“Sebastian, it’s me. Bri—”

“I know who you are,” he cut me off, his voice detached and foreign. Cruel. “You had no right barging in here.”

I hugged the door, confused. Was he upset with me? Did I do something wrong before I lost my memory?

“Are we … did I do anything to you?”

“No. Everything’s dandy. Now get the fuck out.”

“But … why?”

“I wish to be alone.”

It came out as an actual growl, and if I didn’t know any better, if I didn’t recognize those distinctive, angelic curls, burning red at the edges like a halo whenever sunlight hit them, I would mistake this cold man for a stranger.

“Sebastian, this is silly. If something happened, just tell me. We’re grownups. I—”

“For the love of fuck, leave,” he roared, ripping up from his seat, rising to his full, intimidating height.

He balled his fists by his sides. I flinched. Everything inside me clenched hard, but I didn’t move. He was obviously hurting. I didn’t know why. But one thing was crystal clear – nothing made you feel as lonely as knowing you’re hurt and realizing no one’s coming to help you. The hardest battles are fought in silence, with no one to see the scars.

I trotted inside, ushering Trio and Geezer in with my hand. I hadn’t even realized they’d followed me. Surely, Seb wouldn’t be cruel to the dogs.

“No.” I closed the door behind us. “We’re here to keep you company.”

A disparaging snort launched from his throat. “We?”

He waltzed toward a window and jerked open the curtains. Bright sunrays flooded the room all at once. I winced, shielding my eyes. By the time I lowered my hand, he still had his back to me.

“Are you the queen now, Briar Rose?”

“It’s just Briar,” I pointed out, wondering how he didn’t know that already. “And I have Geezer and Trio here with me.”

That made him freeze for a moment. I knew he wanted to turn around and look at them, but he didn’t. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, staring out a window overlooking the grand field outside.

No one could see him from this angle. Too many columns, roof angles, and spires covering these windows. Somehow, I knew he’d chosen this room as his own for that specific reason.

“Did you get your memory back yet?” He didn’t sound like he cared.

“No.” I buried the hurt, clearing my throat. “Well, not yet. I’m remembering new things all the time.”

He didn’t reply, but he didn’t stop me either. I took it as a win, stepping deeper inside the room. It smelled stuffy. Like dust, and sour male sweat, and agony.

“I do remember all of our summers together,” I pointed out.

“The days before.” His cryptic words ended with a slight flinch as he heard me advancing toward him. “I have no use of those memories. It wasn’t the real me inside them.”

I inched closer.

“Do not take another step, Briar. I will not be held responsible for what happens next.”

He wanted to scare me. To threaten me so I would back down.

“What happened?” I paused, softening my voice. “Why are you so mad?”

“Why are you so nosy?”

“Natural curiosity paired with the need for validation,” I answered truthfully. “I can’t imagine you so angry.”

Ignoring his warning, I treaded closer. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, not giving him the space he needed. But something told me he’d been alone for a very long time. Longer than weeks and months. Years. That he craved a human touch more than he did his next breath. They say loneliness isn’t being alone. It’s feeling unseen. Well, Sebastian endured both, and it had reduced him to a shadow of his old self.

“You were always so joyful.” I blinked away salty liquid, wondering when I’d started to tear up. “So vibrant. So beautiful …”

A dark chuckle escaped him. His entire back rumbled with it. I’d made it just a few feet shy of him. His labored breaths bounced between us. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on the back of his neck. My proximity made him nervous.

That makes both of us.

“Suffice to say I am no longer either of those things.” He ran his finger over the windowsill, collecting a mountain of dust. The housekeepers never came in here and cleaned, I gathered. “I’m not the kid you remember, Briar. I am a monster. A pariah. Oliver did the right thing, telling you not to come here. I will hurt you.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Why?” he asked. In wonder, almost.

Were people scared of him now? Did he do something awful?

“Because I might not know what happened in the last fifteen years, but I do know your heart, and it is good.”

More silence.

He hadn’t turned around to face me.

I put two and two together.

Trio and Geezer rounded him from each side. Geezer pushed his head against his foot, and Trio jumped with his two front legs on the windowsill, tracking whatever Seb stared at.

Sebastian peered down, running his knuckles over Trio’s head. The goofy pup licked the tips of his fingers and stared up at him with open adoration.

“I’m not beautiful anymore,” Seb said after a while.

I closed my eyes. A lone tear fell from one of them. “I figured as much.”

“I make babies cry.”

“Babies are crybabies. Don’t pay attention to them. They’re little drama queens.”

He didn’t laugh. “My own parents struggle to look at my face.”

I rested a tentative hand on his shoulder. His entire body clayed into stone. He shuddered, and I could feel his goosebumps through his shirt. He was shaking, quaking, melting under a simple touch. I had to swallow down a scream that threatened to rip from my mouth.

“Briar …”

“Look at me, Sebastian.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

I wanted to hug him from behind, to mold my body into his, to shield him like a coat, but I knew he wasn’t ready for it yet. Sebastian would have to rediscover life from scratch, just like me. Breath by breath. Touch by touch. One smile at a time. But it would be at his own pace and his own volition. Healing comes when you’re ready – and not a moment sooner.

The sunlight licked at his skin, exposing a gnarled long scar that ran from his shoulder down to the tip of his finger. It looked like somebody had tried to rip his skin apart.

“No one has ever seen me like this. Not even my best friends. No one other than Ollie, my parents, and a handful of carers.” He swallowed hard. “Even they had to sign an iron-clad NDA.”

“I’m family,” I reminded him. “We grew up together, Seb. You can trust me.”

He grabbed the windowsill and clenched it until his knuckles turned raw. I stepped away to give him space. He shook so badly, I almost told him not to do it.

And then he turned around, and the entire universe came crashing down on me.