I don't know if I would claim he loved me, but it felt like it. At the very least, I believe he cared deeply for me.

This entire time, he was playing me.

I can't sit here. He'll try to come after me.

Somehow, I manage to pull it together. A numb feeling sets in. The two-hour drive to Dallas is a blur. It's after ten when I arrive. I pull up to the office building, park in the garage, then go up to Sebastian's office.

I toss his keys on his desk, along with my security key card. I turn on my phone and ignore his text messages and voicemails. Then I go back downstairs and order an Uber.

It pulls up to the curb within minutes. I finally get into my apartment and crawl into my bed. The tears fall freely until my chest heaves with so much emotion that bile climbs up my throat. I run to the bathroom and get sick, hugging the toilet and wondering how I could have allowed myself to get into this situation.

I sit against the wall for hours, replaying my time with Sebastian and all the things he said to me over the last few weeks. It's well after midnight when I convince myself to take a shower.

I'm about to step under the hot water when I freeze.

I still smell like him. He's all over me, and once I wash him away, it's over.

It's already over, I reprimand myself.

Another river of tears falls. I force myself to shower but don't use the soap until the water begins to turn cold. I rinse off, shaking from the freezing temperature. Then I quickly shampoo and condition my hair.

After I'm dry, I get back under the covers, but the shaking doesn't stop. I'm colder than I was in Iceland. But I had Sebastian's body around mine, keeping me warm. Now, I'll never have it again.

The waves of grief never stop. To torture myself further, I pull up his text messages.

Sebastian: Georgia, answer your phone.

Sebastian: I don't understand what's going on, Sunshine.

Sebastian: Answer your door. Whatever's going on here, we can work through it.

Answer my door?

He's here in Dallas?

I glance at the timestamp, then cringe. I must have been in the shower.

It's good I didn't answer.

Maybe I got something wrong.

No. I didn't. I need to stop being naive. He's Sebastian Cartwright. Ruthless and cruel.

He's not ruthless or cruel.

He is. He just proved it.

There's a loud pounding on my door. Sebastian's voice booms, "Georgia!"

Goose bumps break out on my skin. I sit up in bed.

Another pound fills the air. He shouts, "Let me in, Georgia."

I creep out to the main living area and stand on the other side of the door. A bang thuds from the thin wood, and I jump.