Page 33 of Please Open Me
Sebby stood in the doorway, wearing a cobalt blue shirt that clung to his chest and hugged his biceps. In one hand, he carried a wooden tray. The scent of eggs and hash browns drifted in with him, making my mouth water and my stomach lurch all at once.
“Mason thought you might be hungry,” he said sheepishly, his diamond-blue eyes fixed on the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet my gaze.
Sebby was a sweet boy. Probably didn’t know what to do the morning after sex. I knew he didn’t—I’d heard Cameron tell the story about how Sebastian cooked him rubbery eggs after the first time they hooked up. But this wasn’t our first time, so I wasn’t sure why he was acting weird.
I forced a sweet smile. “She was right. Like always.”
Seb nodded and placed the tray on my desk.
I immediately grabbed the coffee. I expected him to leave, but instead, he lingered awkwardly in front of my desk, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“What’s up, buttercup?” I asked, sipping from the mug.
Warm caffeine and sweet vanilla hit my bloodstream, and my migraine dulled slightly.
He hesitated, picking at a callus on his thumb before mumbling, “Can we talk?”
I perked up. Perfect. If he wanted to talk, I could get him to say something about not wanting to get Mason pregnant. Momma would hear.Case closed.
“Mhm. What can I do for my favorite pet?” I purred, conveniently ignoring the fact that all my submissives were my favorite.
His cheeks flushed, and he gnawed on his lower lip. For a second, I thought he might chicken out.
“I… before coming here—” he gestured vaguely toward the house, “I was in a really bad relationship.”
I sat up straighter, debating whether I should discreetly hang up on Momma. This didn’t feel like something someone who hated Sebby should be listening to.
“He used to touch me in ways I didn’t like,” Seb continued, “and… he used to say a lot of things that made me feel less than I was.”
Well, shoot.
Now I couldn’t waste my free kill on Momma; I had to find this guy. Men who felt entitled to destroy their partners were my favorite to kill. There was something poetic about forcing a man to die after he’d spent his life forcing someone else to suffer.
Sebastian kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. My brain was too busy plotting.
I tapped my fingers to my lips, already thinking through logistics. Seb had a house in Portland, which meant his ex likely lived nearby. I could disguise the trip as a family visit. Poison would be easy to hide. I just needed a name.
Seb’s lips were still moving. Whatever. Couldn’t be that important.
While I was going to murder someone—and S.H.A.D.E. would bury the evidence—I didn’t want to outright incriminate myself while my mother was still on the call.
There was no fun in murder if you got away with it too easily.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said, folding my hands and cutting him off.
His mouth hung open for a second before closing again.
“I—okay,” he stammered. “Well, if it’s that easy, I’lljust—”
“Do youreallynot want to have another baby with Mason?”
His eyes widened. Full-on deer-in-the-headlights moment. Adorable.
He pushed his glasses up with one finger. “Uh, yeah. I have no interest in having another kid. Ever.”
My gaze flicked to the screen to make sure Momma was still watching.
She was.
