razorblade | sebastian vettel ✓

chapter 17 | razorblade in the heart

She bit the inside of her cheek so hard that if she continued the skin would bleed. "That's—come on, it's just words. You know that's not what I think." The words were weak, she knew it. "Sebastian, I—it's just my job." 

Sebastian looked at her like she was joking. "What the hell, Cassandra? Have you read your own words?" The magazine fell back on the coffee table and he walked away, somewhere to his room.

Her gaze was glued to him, not able to react. She did, eventually, and she walked over to pick up the magazine from where it had been tossed. Her brows furrowed the moment she started reading the article. Okay, most of the words were hers, what she had written about both Mark and Sebastian, the way Hans wanted it to go, but there were some parts that had definitely been touched before production and after she handed her final draft. Some words were harsh, not only about Sebastian but also about Mark and even the lack of control on the team. She didn't write that. Sure, she tried to enhance details about their rivalry and their different personalities, but not the way it was detailed there.

Hans, you're going to hell, she thought. Sebastian came walking out of his room, holding something in his hand that he soon tossed to her, forcing Cassandra to drop the magazine back onto the coffee table.

She was sure she went pale when she noticed what it was. "Your friend, Matteo, told me to give you that." Sebastian pointed at the scarf in her hands.

Cassandra glanced at the scarf. "When did you get this?" She asked, and her lip was trembling. Her body felt cold.

"Before I was off to Asia." They looked at each other, and his expression was a mixture of hurt and disappointment. "You know I didn't make a lot of it when he gave it to me, because I trusted you, but I don't really know anymore who the hell you are. For all I know you were with him while I was pursuing something with you."

That did feel like a dagger to her chest. "It wasn't like that," Cassandra said in a low tone. Her hand gripped the scarf tighter. "I did sleep with him but," Sebastian looked resentful and a bit disgusted now. "Not recently. It was a stupid thing I did back when you were in Hungary but I swear I haven't done anything else with him after that." She could feel her voice changing, and her eyes getting wetter. Shinier, everything.

He shook his head. "Cassandra, I don't trust you. Not anymore. I don't know if I should believe you or not. You write that article about me, I'm not big on media and all that crap, but I didn't expect it to be like that. Not from you. I've heard terrible things about me and my personality and I don't usually care for getting booed or people thinking I'm conceited, but I trusted you." She blinked and a little tear fell to her cheek. "How do I believe you aren't playing me as well? How do I know you won't fuck that asshole when I'm not around? Why would I trust you with anything?"

"Because I like you." Her voice sounded strangled and offended. As if he didn't have any reason to doubt her feelings when she knew he had them.

He let out a pained scoff. "Do you? Really?" Shaking his head he continued. "I don't know if you're the girl who opened up to me back in Switzerland or the one who sleeps with someone who is..." He didn't finish the sentence but she knew how that ended. Someone who was engaged.

"That's not fair, Sebastian." Cassandra wiped another tear with the back of her hand, looking at him. The feeling settling in her could be described as a razorblade in the heart, digging deep and bloody.

"What is fair, then? You tell me." Silence. Nothing. She couldn't even apologise because Cassandra didn't know what to say. Not with the way he was looking at her. "Please leave." He gestured at his door and swallowed the lump in his throat.