Page 140 of Brutal Heir

He hauled me back against his chest. “Basta. Enough.”

“I have to go after her. I need to know more.”

Sebastian turned me in his arms and cupped my face. “I’m taking you home, mia piccola. This was a mistake.”

With a strong arm around my middle, he half escorted, half carried me out of the ballroom.

Two servants rushed forward and opened the double doors leading to the massive entryway.

As Sebastian demanded our coats, I leaned my cheek against his chest.

I desperately wanted it all to just go away. The lights. The noise. The people staring. All of it.

The coat attendant brought Sebastian’s coat but said they were still getting mine.

“Dammit,” growled Sebastian as he swept his heavy cashmere coat over my shoulders.

He then swept me into his arms and carried me out of the hotel.

The rush of cool air stung my heated cheeks. The rumbling from deep inside his chest vibrated through me as he called out for his car to be brought around.

Tires screeched when the Range Rover jumped the curb of the hotel in front of us. The doorman rushed forward.

Sebastian ducked as he got into the car with me still tucked into his arms. Even as the SUV sped away, he kept me on his lap.

Pressing my palms against his chest, I tried to sit up and move to the other seat.

He tightened his grasp. “Don’t.”

“I’m fine. Really. I was just shocked.”

His lips thinned as he stared down at me with a hard expression.

It wasn’t concern…it was guilt.

For once, I could read him as easily as he usually read me.

He felt guilty. Good. He should.

My throat constricted as I swept my fingertips over my cheeks.

The drive back to the palazzo was endless.

The city outside the car window blurred into shadowy streets and harsh lights. The warm glow I’d admired earlier had gone, replaced by flickering streetlights that made the alleys look darker, more menacing.

Trash bags piled near curbs, and graffiti on the walls seemed to mock the grandeur I’d seen before.

All I wanted was to block it all out.

* * *

Before the car had even come to a full stop, I lunged for the door handle.

Sliding off Sebastian’s lap, I raced for the palazzo doors, ignoring the shocked expressions of the nearby staff as they stumbled to open the heavy iron doors.

My heels clacked sharply against the marble stairs as I stormed up the inside entry steps and into the sala dei mappamondi.

The endless tapestries depicting one Biblical tragedy after another seemed to mock my petty modern pain, as if scoffing at the silliness of decades-old gossip when compared to floods and real human suffering.