Mom: Sebastian call your mother right now!!!
Sebastian: I’m not calling, and how did you find out?
Mom: You’re on TMZ!!!! She looks like a hooker!!!!!!!! Is she a hooker????? Why are you doing this to me!!???!
Mom: Lisa will be devastated!!!!!!!
Mom: I cannot believe you did this!!!!! Is this because of the show????!! Answer me! CALL ME!!!
Sebastian rubbed a hand down his face. Shit. TMZ? That must have meant they were followed the moment they left the airport. Paparazzi truly were everywhere. He pulled up TMZ on his phone and there were several shots of him and Chelsea laughing and walking down Bourbon Street, their silly hats on. A CABRAL GETS MARRIED . . . AND NO ONE’S INVITED!!!! read the article headline.
Well, it had to come out at some point. He’d break it to Chelsea when she got out of the shower. She’d take things with stride, he imagined. In fact, he doubted there was much that could get her down.
Thunder crashed overhead, and the lights in the hotel flickered. Then lightning flashed, thunder boomed so loud it rattled the building, and the lights went out.
Fuck. That was annoying. He groaned and flipped his phone’s flashlight app on just as he heard the sound of screaming.
Coming from the bathroom.
Chelsea.
He forgot all about his phone, the storm, even TMZ. Racing to the bathroom across the suite, he went to the door and jiggled the handle. Locked.
She kept screaming, over and over again, like she was being murdered. Jesus.
“Chelsea,” he called, rattling the door. “Open up! It’s just a storm. It knocked the power out.”
Her screams continued, then turned into sobbing. His nerves on edge, he pushed at the door again. When it wouldn’t open, he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, got out his credit card, and started shoving it through the seam in the door. It fell open with a snick a moment later, and he stumbled into the dark, steamy bathroom.
The shower was still going, and he fumbled forward, following the sound of her cries. “Chelsea? Are you okay?”
“Nooo,” she moaned, her screams turning into low sobs. “No. Please no. Let me out! I can’t breathe!”
“Chel?” He moved toward the shower and found her, huddled low into a ball as the spray poured down on her. “Jesus, are you all right?”
She slapped away his hands. “Don’t touch me! I can’t breathe! Please, no—” Her hands flung out, and her fist smacked him in his jaw.
Sebastian clenched his teeth, wincing at the blow. She didn’t know what she was doing. She was out of her mind with fear. “It’s okay,” he soothed, keeping his voice low and even. Her sobs of fear were breaking his heart. He reached over and turned off the water, and then pulled her against him, ignoring the fact that she flailed and tried to hit him again. “Chelsea, it’s me. It’s Sebastian.”
“I can’t breathe,” she rasped in his ear. “I can’t breathe! Help me!” Her cries turned into whimpers. “Too dark. Too dark.”
Was it an asthma attack? She seemed to be breathing fine, given that his ears were ringing from her shrill cries. A flash of memory from her apartment hit him. All the lights.
Was she afraid of the dark?
“The power’s off,” he soothed. “It’s just a storm. It’ll be back on soon.” He felt around in the dark and found a towel, then pulled it around her quaking body. The scent of her soap, cherries and vanilla, brushed over his nose. It smelled sweet and happy, a stark contrast to her terror.
He hauled her against him and carried her out of the bathroom. She was shaking like a leaf, and every time it thundered, she whimpered anew.
“Shh,” he told her, carrying her across the room toward the immense balcony. It didn’t matter that it was raining outside. If there was light out there, that was where he was going to go. “I’ve got you, Chelsea.”