She’d ruined Sebastian.
Destroyed him. He’d wanted the marriage for convenience’s sake, and no matter what it had morphed into now, he’d ultimately wanted to get married because he’d wanted to avoid attention. There’d be no avoiding it if that tape got out. He’d lose any respectability or credibility once his name was attached to hers.
Because it wasn’t just a sex tape—it was a crime. The media would have a field day. Some people would be disgusted that it would be out, and others would be titillated. The more lurid it was, the more people would check it out.
She’d be infamous overnight.
And here she’d been encouraging Sebastian to go a little more public with his art. To look at someday trying to set up an exhibition. To move forward and show the world that Sebastian Cabral was more than just a man with money and an annoying family. To show that he had genuine talent and to share it with the world.
His name would be garbage if hers was attached to it. She’d ruin everything she touched.
Which was why she had to leave.
She walked home and entered the town house, noting it was utterly quiet. No Sebastian, not yet. That was good. That’d give her time to pack and settle her mind before he came home.
She picked up her favorite derby bag, the one big enough to hold all her important stuff, and began to cram clothing and gear into it.
Then she sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, the implications of leaving hitting her. Shit. Gretchen’s wedding. She couldn’t be in it. Not now. And her derby team? She was going to have to bail out on them, too. Hot tears flooded down her face. She was disappointing everyone.
But at least Gretchen was easy to bail out on. As much as she wanted to run away and hide, Sebastian deserved a face-to-face good-bye. She picked up her phone and wiped away her tears, then texted Gretchen the bad news.
Next up, her derby sisters.
Chapter Twenty-three
Sebastian and Hunter had spent the morning rock climbing, and then Sebastian had gone to visit his father, since his mother had claimed to be out visiting friends. He’d spent a nice, quiet lunch with Dad, feeling a little guilty that he wasn’t spending more time with him. Dad’s health was getting more fragile by the year, and he wouldn’t be around forever. Sebastian vowed not to let his mother continue to chase him off from family visits.
As he’d left the Cabral home, he’d gotten a text from Hunter. Can you come by this afternoon? Need to have an impromptu groomsmen meeting. 2 P.M.
Sebastian sent back an affirmative, and then instructed his driver that he needed to go to Buchanan Manor instead of straight home. He sent Chelsea a text letting her know he’d be late for their afternoon skating workout through Central Park, but didn’t get a response.
Maybe she was still out buying soap supplies.
When his car pulled up, he instructed the driver to wait. “No idea how long this will take, so stick around.” He got out of the car and noticed a few others were parked. Those must have been the other men. Not for the first time, Sebastian wondered why they were having a groomsmen meeting in person when it could have been just as easily solved by a few phone calls or text messages. Or emails. Was the wedding called off? He’d seen Hunter earlier today and he hadn’t indicated any trouble.
Odd.
He said a quick hello to Hunter’s elderly butler and headed up the stairs to Hunter’s office. The door was open, and he knocked quickly, then entered. A few other men were there already. Asher, Cooper, Levi, and Hunter.
Hunter gestured at one of the chairs across from his desk. “Sit. We’re just waiting on Magnus.”
The other three men gave him wary looks as he sat down. “What’s this about?”
“I’ll explain soon enough.” Hunter’s expression was grave. Then again, he was usually somber.
Sebastian shrugged and checked his phone, looking for a missed text from Chelsea. She normally answered fast. Nothing again. Huh.
The men waited in tense, uncomfortable silence as Hunter continued to work on his computer. A few minutes later, though, Magnus entered, a big, strapping man with an equally perplexed expression on his face. “Hello, boys. Surprised to see you all here.”
Sebastian shot him a curious look, but glanced back down at his phone again. So did no one know what was going on? And why wasn’t Chelsea answering him?
“Good. You’re here.” Hunter’s gravelly voice distracted Sebastian away from his too-silent phone. “I asked you all to come here today because you are all good friends and business associates of mine. I’ve asked you to be in my wedding. I trust all of you. And you know that Gretchen is the woman I love and intend to marry, and she has her heart set on a big wedding with lots of pomp and circumstance. And because I can’t refuse her anything, I’m going to give her the big wedding she wants. Which is what brings me to today’s meeting.” For a moment, he looked pissed. “Quit sticking your dicks in the bridesmaids.”
Sebastian couldn’t help it. He snorted. That was one rule he wasn’t going to listen to, because he was married to Chelsea.
He could finally touch his girl all he wanted, and it was fucking heaven. A proud smile curved his mouth, and he pictured her, in bed, waiting for him, roller skates on her feet. God, she was sexy.
“One of the women is dropping from the bridal party, and my wife-to-be is extremely upset. Gretchen has been frantic all day, and I told her I’d take care of it.”
“Guilty as charged,” Asher said. “I’m fucking Greer, and I’m not going to stop. And no, it’s none of your business.” He adjusted his cufflinks, and then added, “I’ll talk to her. I didn’t know she was threatening to drop out of the wedding.”
“Greer’s not the one threatening to drop,” Hunter said drily. “Though now I see we have another problem. Chelsea is the one wanting to leave the wedding.”
“What?” Sebastian stiffened, his body becoming alert. His cold expression flicked with surprise. “Chelsea?”
“Et tu, Brute?” Hunter said, voice gruff. “Both of you, either make those women happy or break it off cleanly so Gretchen’s plans aren’t spoiled. Understand?”
That had to be wrong. Had to be. Why would Chelsea ditch the wedding? She was already making plans for rose-scented soaps. It didn’t make sense. And why wouldn’t she answer her damn phone? “If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a phone call,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet in a fluid motion. He gave Hunter a stiff nod and disappeared out of the room.
In the hallway, he called Chelsea.
It went straight to voice mail, which meant she was screening his calls, and she specifically did not want to talk to him. What the hell? It wasn’t like Chelsea—happy, brave Chelsea—to be passive aggressive and pick a fight. Something else had to be wrong, and worry made his heart pound. When it came to Chelsea, he felt incredibly protective. Was Rufus with her?
He immediately called the bodyguard. “Where is my wife?”
“She is at home, sir.”
“Is something wrong? She’s not answering her phone.”
“I didn’t ask. Should I ask?”
“No. I’ll be home shortly. It’s fine.” Sebastian hung up and didn’t care if it was rude or not. He just needed to get to Chelsea as soon as possible.
He all but sprinted out to his waiting car.
* * *
When Sebastian got home, the house was silent. “Chelsea?” he bellowed, then raced up the stairs to the bedroom.
She was there, packing, her movements wooden as she folded a T-shirt and then stuffed it into her bag.
“What’s going on? What are you doing?” Sebastian wanted to grab her and shake her—or pull her against him—but he didn’t want to trigger bad memories for her. “Chelsea? What’s wrong?”