Author's note: I thought I might give Sebastian's POV a chance to shine for a bit…
Thick as Thieves
Chapter 2 – The Vacation
Sebastian shut the bedroom door behind him, crossing the landing and exited the front door without any hesitation. Once he was out in the crisp night air, however, he stopped walking and inhaled deeply, trying to clear his shaken mind. Exhaling with a shaky breath, he ran a hand down his face and leant his head back, his adam's apple bobbing visibly beneath the thin layer of skin as he swallowed.
Santana was everything to him. Literally. Before her, he knew his life would be heading nowhere pleasant. It would only be a matter of time before he was caught. Sure, when he first met her he saw her as nothing more than a meal ticket, his way of earning his keep without fear of detection. But now… here he was. He, Sebastian Smythe, was thinking about a girl in a way other than robbing her and/or getting in her pants. His father would be ashamed.
Sebastian groaned. The very thought of his father caused a quick, hard fall from the cloud he was on. His past was yet another thing Santana had saved him from.
Mitchell Smythe was a successful lawyer and a notorious ladies' man. Having a kid was the last thing on his agenda. So when Shayla Matthews found out she was pregnant, she jumped state and Martin never heard from her again. Not that he usually did from any of his hook ups anyway.
When Shayla died in a car crash eleven years later, the Court had no choice but to track down the father of her young son. Shayla had been an orphan with no family whatsoever, and if no one to claimed custody of the boy, he would be classified under the state's care – in either an orphanage or foster care system.
At the tender age of ten, Sebastian Matthews met his biological father for the first time.
It was an ugly interaction – Mitch denied any claims of ever having a child but even if the startling resemblance was not enough, DNA never lies. Sebastian was without a doubt his.
Mitch had wanted nothing to do with Sebastian. He was at the peak of his career and living his chosen life of a bachelor. But the spotlight of the media was shining on them and he had no choice or his reputation would be compromised. Hence, many fake smiles and false embraces in front of cameras later, Sebastian Matthews became Sebastian Mitchell Smythe.
Mitchell's features were present in his son in the straight line of his nose, the deep-set eyes and prominent brows. For his age, Sebastian was tall and lanky and carried himself with the standing of a man rather than a boy. (This was acquired rather than inherited, however; having never lived a life of luxury as Shayla got them both by on a single meager paycheck working at a supermarket while juggling random odd jobs, he had been forced to mature much faster than any kid his age should have to). Sebastian was basically Martin in miniature.
The likeness was only emphasized as Sebastian grew. As he entered his teens, puberty did him nothing but favours. Whatever little baby fat melted away, revealing high cheekbones and defined musculature. His shoulders broadened, his jaw line became more prominent and his voice transitioned smoothly into an alluring, unintentionally seductive purr.
It was a good thing that his genes were kind to him, for the same could not be said about the person he acquired them from. Mitchell was harsh to Sebastian. When he first came into his life, Mitch never spoke to Sebastian unless it was to hurl insults about him and his whore of a mother.
When they were in front of cameras to promote Mitchell's many publicity campaigns, however, was a whole other story. Mitch would be the epitome of the perfect father, acting traumatized that the woman he had fallen in love with had run off without a trace and kept the wonderful gift of a son from him. To the media, Sebastian was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and the very thought that he had missed out on ten crucial years of his life was absolutely mortifying. Young, terrified and helpless, Sebastian had always played along, entertaining his father's demands and dutifully delivering the lines at press conferences that Mitch had hired people to write.
Sebastian was determined to prove himself. He achieved straight A's all through middle school and was accepted into a prestigious Honor's scholarship program in a high school. Naturally athletic, he took up soccer, swimming and lacrosse and was offered a place in the state swim team. Sebastian never told anyone his true passion of the performing arts, but in his free time learnt to play the guitar and dance.
It didn't take long for Sebastian to draw plenty of attention to himself in school. Teachers adored him, boys wanted to be him and girls readily threw themselves at his feet. As the first student in school history to become Captain of the swim team in his freshman year, he was readily accepted by the jocks and his 'friends' set the tone of the rest of his high school life. He did, however, break the jock stereotype by never being mean and secretly hated what the other popular kids did to the rest of the school. He tried to stop the bullying as best he could, but it wasn't easy and eventually he just learnt to turn a blind eye and not get involved whatsoever.
In fact, he eventually found his only true friend in his geeky lab partner. The two could not have been more different, but they hit off right away. The curly-haired boy was in the school's decathlon team, played the violin and piano and sang in glee club. They bonded over a mutual love for music and Steven Spielberg movies and eventually, Sebastian confessed that he loved to sing. The only person he could truthfully call his friend then taught him to play the piano and the two would have jam sessions in his basement.
Sebastian did, however, follow Mitchell's footsteps as a serial womanizer. He had a record list of one-night stands and the occasional relationship never lasted more than a week or two. Given his background, Sebastian scoffed at the very thought of love. As far as he was concerned, it didn't exist. Only lust and desire.
Mitchell did, of course, notice the fact that there seemed to be a different girl leaving the house every morning. And he was pleased. His son was finally learning the ways of life. While their relationship was nothing more than a formal one, they began speaking. Mitch was proud of the man his son had turned out to be, especially when it came to his views on emotions. As the years passed, they grew increasingly estranged till lastly, Sebastian chose his lifestyle of theft and severed any ties altogether.
Yet here Sebastian was, feeling something other than lust for a girl. That would sever the only connection he had felt growing up with his father.
But screw Mitchell Smythe. Santana was not just any girl. Sebastian's ability to love was probably obtained from the person who gave him the one feature on his face that hadn't been copied from his father – He had exactly his mother's eyes.
Sebastian pulled out his wallet and from a hidden compartment extracted the photo reel. It was a black-and-white strip of photo booth images that he had taken with Santana a year previously. He smiled softly as he scanned through the seven photographs, happiness and trust clear in their eyes in every single one.
They had been on vacation in Venice, Italy after a particularly successful assignment involving a messy divorce between a high-profile politician and his wife. The State Senator had been caught fooling around with a hot young Latina the same time his wife's affair with a green-eyed brunette was outed. With all the hatred and distractions of diverting the media and the law, no one had noticed the two 'other parties' had disappeared with a grand total of about US$700,000.
It had been one of their more triumphant busts.
As he scanned through the photos, he realized something new: The way they looked at each other. Previously, he had ruled it down to euphoria over the successful assignment and their vacation high, but now he saw something else. Was it… love?
His thoughts were a wreck. He could not face Graham Sexton like this. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Sebastian put away the photos, slid his wallet into his back pocket and strode confidently on over to the main house.
"You won't regret this, sir. I assure you." Sebastian reassured, standing from the leather sofa and fastening the button on his jacket. He extended a hand and plastered a charming grin on his face.
"Oh I trust you." Graham accepted the hand, shaking it firmly. "Nice doing business with you, Scott. I can't believe the last time I saw you, you were trying to rip the head of my daughters' Barbie doll!"
"Neither can I, Sir. Not that I'd ever admit to playing with Barbies." Sebastian chuckled.
The two businessmen walked to the door and with a final parting handshake, Sebastian was on his way across the lawn.
He pulled out his phone and typed out a message to Santana, murmuring it aloud as he hit send.
"Mission accomplished."
3 Months Later – The Bahamas
His board shorts riding low on his hips, Sebastian strolled leisurely out to the balcony. Santana was lying on a deck chair, her face hidden behind the magazine she was reading. His eyes raked freely over her exposed body, taking in the bronze skin, the toned abdominals and legs that seemed to go on forever.
"Enjoying the show?" Her bored voice came from behind the glossy pages of the publication.
"Actually, yes." He replied. "Say, is that tattoo new?" Sebastian walked up to his partner, and lightly touched the printed skin on her exposed left hipbone. He brushed the ties on her bikini bottom aside to have a closer look at the intricately patterned array of swirls and dots, delicately woven into what resembled a pair of wings. On closer inspection, he noticed that they were actually drawn by a chain of words.
Before he could read the inscription, Santana smacked his hand away and covered herself with a towel, standing abruptly up from the deck chair and went back into the villa, muttering something about needing the bathroom.
Sebastian watched her leave, feeling thoroughly intrigued. All these years he had known Santana, he knew she had several tattoos scattered on various parts of her body. (What, he had seen her naked on multiple occasions, both on and off task) For most of them, if not all, Santana had told him some story behind. Apart from the mystery tattoo in her hip, Sebastian knew of these:
The musical notation along her lower left rib: A treble clef and the three main chorus notes of "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi. This had been her very first tattoo, which she had gotten as a rebellion against her parents a few weeks before her seventeenth birthday. Teenage angst and what not, she felt the song choice seemed appropriate.
The ribbon on the nape of her neck. That one was for her Grandmother. Growing up, Santana's parents worked long hours and hence she was mostly raised by the elderly lady. Her Abuela used to always tie bows into little Santana's dark, thick hair. When her beloved Abuela passed away a few months after Santana's high school graduation, she decided to get the tattoo as a symbol of remembrance.
The word "Fearless" on her right wrist. She had told him that she had this one done because it symbolized herself, plus she thought the text design was really pretty.
There was also a small peace sign tattooed to her right ankle, a star on her right shoulder and flame on her lower back. Santana had simply shrugged these off saying she got them because she felt like it, which Sebastian was positive also involved certain levels of alcohol.
And the there was the inscription on her left arm. Two words beautifully printed so that one lay on her forearm and the other on her bicep. Unlike all her other tattoos, Sebastian was certain about the story behind this one. He had been there when she got it. As his fingers traced the identical words permanently etched into his own skin, he realized that there was more connecting them than just their matching tattoos.
Santana splashed coldwater on her face. He had come so close to finding out. He couldn't. He never could or everything would change. She watched a droplet of water run down her left arm, minutely magnifying the two words encrypted into the crook of her elbow as it passed them over.
Smooth Criminal.
The song that represented, yet changed, her life. Over the past few months Santana had had time to collect her thoughts and came to one conclusion: Her relationship with her partner had gotten a whole lot more complicated after that duet together. Up on that clichéd temporary stage, something in Santana Lopez's world had snapped, whether in our out of control she had yet to determine. It was as if she was floating in a hot air balloon, and abruptly one of the sandbags balancing her life had been slashed. She could possibly sail to discover greater new places, or drift off to darkness and be lost for good. It could go either way, and that was a risk she was not in any way ready to take.
But the tattoo could be innocent enough. Sebastian didn't need to know the level of motive behind those two simple words. Friends got matching tattoos all the time, right? When she 'offhandedly' propositioned the idea to her partner on their business class flight from New York to Paris after their assignment 3 months ago, she was secretly delighted but brushed it off with an indifferent "Cool." At least now, no matter what happened, they would always have that link.
Sighing deeply, Santana fixed her eye make up in the mirror and slipped on a sundress over her red bikini. They were on vacation – after the merger between Mercury and Venus had been made and their stock earnings flying through the roof, she and Sebastian had decided to take a break.
Santana and Sebastian were on a plane to New York the same night they had feigned Scott Henley's identity and sealed the deal. They had stayed in their co-owned apartment on the Upper West Side to monitor the rigged stocks and enjoy the city. Confident as they were that their plans would work, the partners were still wracked with nerves as they awaited the changes in the stock market with barely concealed anticipation. They spent hours curled up in the plush sofa set in front of the television, watching and recording every significant change.
On the third night, however, Sebastian announced that they should go out and enjoy the beauty of the city. Santana was anxious and fidgety from being cooped up at home, so she agreed to leave the confines of their apartment and let loose for the night.
She should have known that when Sebastian said they would be "enjoying the city lights", he really meant that they would be hitting up the hottest bars and clubs in the area.
The allies stumbled back into their apartment in the darkest hours of the following morning. Alcohol clouded their minds and both had forgotten how may shots they had consumed after losing count at the fifth.
They had fucked that night. A blacked-out haze of hurried movement, heavy breathing and frantic heartbeats. The night was fueled by pure passion and desire; not a trace of love or thoughts. It was sex. Teeth, tongue, fingernails and guttural moans and primal grunts; not gentle caresses, kisses and promises.
The next day, unbeknownst to each other, they had both feigned sleep for a few hours just to revel in the warmth of the other body pressed up against them, admiring the way they fit so perfectly together.
When they finally got out of bed (pretending as if nothing had happened, of course) to check the stocks, Santana and Sebastian both found themselves two million dollars richer.
They travelled. A lot. They stayed a few nights at Sebastian's apartment in Paris, a few more in a charming cottage in the English Countryside. Another week was spent in Rome. They made a circuit around Asia – Thailand, Singapore, The Philippines, Indonesia and Japan. Australia. New Zealand. The Cook Islands. And now the Bahamas.
This was the longest time they had ever spent together at a stretch in all their years of camaraderie. And both parties secretly agreed that it felt like no matter the destination, together was exactly the place where they were meant to be.
Sebastian was absently-mindedly tossing frangipani petals into the crystal clear blue water floating beneath the balcony when he sensed her presence in the doorway.
"Scott Henley is dead. He was murdered and the killer was caught at the scene… He claims he was working under the orders of Graham Sexton."
Having caught her partner's attention, Santana summarised a police report she had printed from the database they had hacked into.
"The accused claims to have been paid by Mr. Graham Sexton of Mercury Energy to assassinate Mr. Scott Henley, the successor of the Venus Energy, for forcing him into making a merger which led to the downfall of his company.
This serves as a plausible motive that if true, suggest Mr. Sexton's involvement in the case. Officer Winston had requested a warrant for an interrogation and to keep Sexton under surveillance at all times."
They stared at each other, expressions blank and lost for words. Finally, Santana broke the silence with a cracked whisper so soft he pretty much had to read her lips.
"Seb… that bullet was meant for you."
Author's note: Hey y'all! Thanks for still reading (: Reviews are much loved and appreciated always.
I'm sorry if it's a bit unclear… my brain's kinda fuzzy right now. There's so much going on! But just to clear things up – Sexton still didn't know that the person he had made the deal with wasn't the real Scott Henley when he hired the assassin, so obviously the killer went after the real one when he was given the name of his target. Who Sexton really wanted dead was Sebastian. Sexton now knows he was tricked because he saw the body and doesn't recognize it. Something tells me he won't be too happy about this piece of information…
Next up – The Forger