Hiraeth | Sebastian Sallow Love Story

Chapter Twenty One: Brag

Gracie had transfigured the satchel to look like a wristlet and casted a sticking charm to make sure she'd never leave it anywhere by accident. If she lost it, Sebastian might actually kill her.

Her hair was twisted into a neat bun with a few wisps left out to frame her face. A few wisps of emerald green peaked out from her espresso hair. It was the only part of her that felt like her. She was far too nervous and anxious to change much else. Another reason why she wasn't a fighter. Still couldn't channel her ability well enough.

Slipping the room key into her purse, Gracie casted a ward at the entry way that would tell her if the room had been disturbed at all. It was a very busy place. She couldn't risk any chance of things going awry tonight.

It felt like she had everything in order until she got to the staircase which led down to the lounge of the hotel. She had been right. The moment she stood at the top of the staircase, every eligible bachelor had their eyes set on her. Even some that clearly had a wife or girlfriend couldn't help a peak in her direction.

Pushing those anxiety inducing feelings to the back of her mind, Gracie slowly descended down the staircase. Not for the theatrics, but because she didn't want to trip in black heels.

The first man to greet her at the staircase was French. His dark hair was gelled to the side and his features were narrow and pointed. In heels, he was the same height as her. From his striped pants to his oversized waistcoat, Gracie wasn't charmed in the slightest.

"Bonsoir..." His eyes flickered to her left hand and he beamed, "Mademoiselle. My name is Auguste Dupont."

"Hello." Gracie said politely, flickering her eyes briefly to the rest of the room before returning to meet Auguste's licentious stare, "Gracie Hunt."

His smile grew, "Beautiful name. Are you here alone?"

"I—"

"There you are, shortcake." She went to turn, but Sebastian's arm slid around her waist and kept her firmly planted to his side. Even in heels, he still towered over her and now the man in front of them as well. At some point, Sebastian ditched his casual attire for an all black suit, "What did I say about running off?"

Gracie's smile could have cut glass. "Nothing, considering you were headed towards other women as soon as we entered the hotel."

The French man barked out a laugh, "Fantastique. I didn't know she was with you, Sebastian. Bring her to the table. The others and I have rounded up everyone to play that British game you were telling us about."

Sebastian nodded with an easy laugh to anyone who heard him. Gracie, however, felt his hand twitch. He was pissed. With an unhinged spark in his eyes, he glanced down at her. "Why don't you go back to the room? Cards will be boring for you, won't it?"

He didn't want her to be there? Why? She narrowed her eyes, "What would a Scotsman know about Brag? That is what you're referring to, no?" Auguste nodded, pleased that she was quick to catch on to the centuries old game, "Lead the way, Mr. Dupont."

"S'il te plaît, call me Auguste." The man beckoned for her to follow and she released Sebastian's grip from her with a muttered stinging hex to his hand.

There was a gambling room around the corner that was all sorts of wicked. The entry way was guarded by a suited man that was almost as tall as Sebastian and had a scar down the side of his face. Seeing Auguste, he unhooked the velvety rope blocking the entrance. The floors continued on with black marble, but now the walls were also made of what appeared to be... Gold. Rectangular paintings meticulously arranged according to Feng Shui depicted bamboo sceneries and a few ceremonial gates like the one they'd past earlier by the food stalls. The ceiling had architecture that reminded her of the Parisian society with dips and elegant designs. A chandelier was the shining star of the room. It was a glass lotus with bulbs lighting the ends of the pink flower petals.