Retribution (Sebastian Trilogy Book 3)

BOOK: Retribution (Sebastian Trilogy Book 3)
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RETRIBUTION

 

Sebastian Trilogy~Book Three

 

 

By Janey Rosen

 

RETRIBUTION

 

Copyright © 2015 by Janey Rosen. All rights reserved.

First Print Edition: August 2015

 

 

Limitless Publishing, LLC

Kailua, HI 96734

www.limitlesspublishing.com

 

Formatting: Limitless Publishing

 

ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-254-3

ISBN-10: 1-68058-254-2

 

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

 

DEDICATION

 

I owe a debt of gratitude to my husband for his unending patience and fortitude, without which it would have been impossible for me to dedicate so much time to writing. Also to the many Sebastian fans on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads, who have inspired me to continue my creative journey.

I love each of you.

 

 

 

“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”

~Friedrich Nietzsche

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

The sunlight is streaming through a chink in the curtains, casting shards of gold upon the honey coloured furniture in our bedroom. My head feels muzzy. I’m disorientated, unsure if it’s morning and how I got to bed. Recollections of last night stream back with startling clarity. I remember what Scarlett said to me. Could it be true, or was I so drunk that my imagination ran away with me? Scarlett has many faults, and irritates the hell out of me. But is she a murderer? Could she really have slept with Alan? She intimated that she caused the accident which killed my husband and son, but how? Such dark thoughts, so many questions.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good. How’s your head?” Sebastian enters the bedroom wearing an expression of dour sobriety. Sweeping my legs aside, he perches on the edge of the bed, his features strained and his peppered hair messed up. He’s dressed in faded blue jeans and black t-shirt and he looks sizzling hot, momentarily distracting me from my troubled thoughts. He places a glass of orange juice on the nightstand and regards me with a scowl. “Sit up. Drink. All of it.”

Obediently, I heave my leaden body to a sitting position and slump back against the disordered pile of pillows, grimacing as my temples throb. The juice is ice cold and I drain the glass appreciatively, refreshed and glad to rid my mouth of a stale bitterness
.
“Did you talk to Scarlett?

My words are but a croak.

Upon a deep sigh, he runs his index finger down my cheek and across my lips, his mood difficult to read
.
“Yes, of course I talked to her. After you passed out in a drunken stupor, I sat talking with her for a couple of hours.”

Damn it. Scarlett had time to spin her lies and cover her tracks
.
“Did she tell you what she said to me about the accident?

I ask urgently.

“What is your problem with Scarlett?

His finger trails down my throat, down to the naked valley between my breasts, so distractingly. My nipples elongate and stiffen as his finger brushes lightly over each, my body acting in total discord to my brain.

“Sebastian. Stop it.” I brush his finger away reluctantly but he immediately returns it determinedly to my right nipple, stroking and circling and then pinching it sharply between his thumb and index finger. I try not to react but moan involuntarily, my back arching as he shifts his position, his mouth finding my left nipple. Damn him
.
“Please. Sebastian, stop. This is important.”

He sucks hard on my sensitive bud, his tongue flicking over the tip, his fingers continuing to pinch and knead. I grasp his head, clutching and tugging at his hair, forcing him to take more of my breast in his hungry mouth. I have an urgent, primal need to reclaim Sebastian as mine and erase the taint of Scarlett’s words.

Pulling back, stronger than me, he releases my tight grip on his hair, a few strands still clutched in my fist
.
“I only want you. Only you. You’ll always be mine. Stop this jealousy.” His lips find mine and stifle my protestations, his weight pressing on me as I slide back down the bed beneath him. He makes slow passionate love to me and it’s divine—not kinky nor hurried, nor brutal, but an expression of adoration that is true and profound. I am his.

 

***

 

I call my mother, feeling a deep need to hear the comforting and familiar sound of her voice. Distracted by Sebastian this morning, I’ve not been able to have a full discussion with him regarding Scarlett, and last night is weighing heavily on my mind, compounding my melancholia and anxiety.

“Beth, love, it’s been too long. How are you both?” Those few simple words are calming and offer a small taste of home, of simpler, happier times with my parents when the only complication in life was homework, boys, and music.

“Everything’s fine. Wonderful,

I lie, not wishing to worry my mother with the complexities of my life nor to tarnish the high esteem in which she holds Sebastian. It’s not for my mother to carry the heavy burden of guilt, nor the suspicion surrounding her grandson’s death. I simply want to wrap myself tightly in the comforting, maternal embrace that her loving voice offers.

“Will you be home for your birthday?

she asks hopefully.

“No, Mum, I’m really sorry. We’re having a few friends over here. I’ll be home just after my birthday, though, in time for Bella’s so we’ll all be together for her special day.”

“All right, love, I’ll keep your present until I see you. Bella’s okay, I hope?”

“She’s just fine. She met a boy last night—Theo. He’s nineteen and has his own car, so he’s the coolest boy on the planet in Bella’s eyes.”

“That’s good. You tell her that her old grandma sends her love and I’ll see her soon. Oh, and send my love to Sebastian, and you look after him.”

“I will. I love you, Mum. Very much.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible,

I say, smiling at the ritual that used to be ours alone when Mum tucked me in at night, as a child. How I long to be in my mother’s arms, clutched tight against her breast, her arms an iron fortress impenetrable by evil or harm.

Ruth answers on the first ring. I’ve walked across the lawn to the rear of the house, to afford me some privacy. I recount what I recall of last night’s heated discussion with Scarlett and Ruth listens quietly. When I have finished, she takes a deep breath and considers what I have told her in the measured way that she has.

“Okay, so are you saying that you think Scarlett was seeing Alan and that she was somehow responsible for the accident?” she clarifies.

“I know it sounds farfetched, Ruth, but yes…that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“And she caused the accident because she wanted you and the children to come to Penmorrow, to give Sebastian the children that neither she, nor Libby, could give him?”

It sounds so unbelievable when Ruth recounts my story that I wonder if I imagined the entire argument. “Ruth, I’m only telling you what Scarlett said to me. I know it sounds crazy, but yes, that’s what I’m thinking. I don’t believe that Sebastian has ever thought of Scarlett in the way she thinks of their relationship. I think she’s seriously deluded.”

“But…if that’s the case, why would she harm Joe?”

“She couldn’t have known that Joe would be in the car but I really believe she’s dangerous. She seems to think that she can offer Sebastian everything except a family. He’s desperate for an heir, Ruth, that much is true. The whole estate passes to distant relatives in Australia when he dies. It makes sense, don’t you see? She thinks he loves her, and that the only thing missing is children. An heir.”

“Calm down. Let’s look at the facts. At the funeral, didn’t Mike say that Alan had been seeing someone? You told me that Mike mentioned a woman in a four-by-four car. Could that be Scarlett?”

“Of course it could. Sebastian drives a Range Rover. It could be that she used his car to meet with Alan. She takes his car sometimes to go to town.”

“Okay. So, she uses his car, sees Alan and plots the whole thing, but that doesn’t explain the anti-depressants found in his blood stream.”

“Libby was on the same medication. What if Scarlett has those tablets? What if she convinced Alan to take them? He was pretty messed up about us.”

“So, the accident happens, you go to Penmorrow with Bella—it’s not a son, though, is it?”

“I know, but that doesn’t matter. The estate passes to any surviving heir. I think she saw me purely as a means by which Sebastian could have an heir. She’s so obsessed with him. What if she thought that I’d come here, to be some quiet little thing who would provide the heir, while she and Sebastian continue as lovers.”

“Continue? You mean they have had sex? Do you know this, Beth?” Ruth sounds skeptical. I need to convince her that I’m not going mad, that this really is happening.

“She took advantage of him when Libby died. It wasn’t his fault. Ruth, you need to believe me. Something isn’t right here and I’m really scared. I love Sebastian so much and I know he loves me, he really does. It’s her, Ruth. It’s Scarlett. She’s crazy and she’s dangerous. I’m frightened.”

“I want you to come home, Beth.” Ruth’s tone is insistent.

“I can’t,

I say forlornly.

“Why can’t you? I’ll come and get you if necessary but you and Bella must come home. You’ve both been through so much. You don’t need all this, Beth.”

“Because if we come home, then Scarlett has won. She gets Sebastian and I can’t let that happen, he’s the love of my life, I need him.”

“I understand,

Ruth soothes calmly
.
“But I want to speak to the police inspector who dealt with the accident. I’ll just run her name past him, see if it brings anything up.”

“What if he thinks I’m crazy?”

“He’d be right,

she jokes
.
“It will put your mind at rest. Leave it with me. Please try not to worry. You’ve been through so much. This could just be grief, you know.”

“Do you think so?

“Possibly, but let’s get the cops looking into the bitch, see if anything turns up. Love you, my loony best friend.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetie.” She ends the call.

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