The Mistress: Her revenge [18+]

Ch. 5

ESMERALDA BERTILLON

8 YEARS AGO

The memory of Dani's 21st birthday lingers like the faint taste of champagne. Everything had been meticulously crafted, perfect down to the finest detail—her father had seen to that. He wanted everything to be flawless, especially with Sebastian attending, the man he envisioned as his future son-in-law. But my thoughts weren't on the pristine decorations or the classical music floating in the background.

I was in the garden with Derrick, hidden just enough behind the trees where the party noise became a distant hum. His lips were warm against mine, rough and urgent as he kissed me with a hunger that matched my own. The taste of alcohol and something darker passed between us, his hands slipping under my dress to squeeze my breast. He wasn't gentle, but I didn't want gentle. I let out a soft moan, encouraging him as my own hand wandered lower, rubbing his crotch in slow, deliberate strokes. His head fell back slightly, his breath ragged, a guttural sound escaping his throat.

"God, Esme..." Derrick groaned, his mouth trailing down to my neck, biting and licking with a kind of desperate need that made me shiver. His fingers slid into my panties, teasing, massaging my clit until the world narrowed to just that sensation—his touch, the heat building between my thighs. I needed him.

I sank to my knees, hands already working to free his belt when I heard it—footsteps, firm and deliberate, crunching the gravel underfoot. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, and looked up.

Sebastian.

He stood there, just a few feet away, shock flickering across his features before it vanished, masked by something colder, more controlled. He recovered quickly, stepping forward with a calm demeanor that belied the situation. Derrick hastily pulled up his pants, his face flushed with both embarrassment and irritation, while I scrambled to stand, trying to smooth out my dress as if it could erase what had just happened.

"Sebastian," he said, nodding, his voice too casual, like he hadn't been seconds away from getting blown in the garden.

Sebastian's eyes flicked between us, unreadable, before he extended a hand toward me. "I don't think we've met. Sebastian Ainsworth."

I took his hand, the contact sending a jolt through me. His grip was firm, too firm, his fingers lingering around mine far longer than necessary, the pressure almost a challenge. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a brief moment, I felt like he was seeing more than he should—more than I wanted him to.

"Esme," I managed to say, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Esme Bertillon."

"Pleasure," he murmured, though the way he said it made me wonder if he meant it at all. His thumb brushed against my palm before he let go, the touch leaving a strange heat in its wake. What was this?

Derrick cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "We should probably head back to the party."

Sebastian gave a slight nod, his gaze lingering on me for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he turned on his heel, walking back toward the house with a cool confidence that unsettled me.

As soon as he was gone, Derrick cursed under his breath. "What the hell was that about?"

I had no idea. But one thing was certain—Sebastian Ainsworth had seen more than he let on, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.