Sebastian - Risking Forever: Vol 4 (The Forever Series): new adult college romance

by TARA GALLINA

  SEBASTIAN - RISKING FOREVER

  Vol 1

  TARA GALLINA

  Warning

  – Sebastian's POV has spoilers that aren't revealed in RISKING FOREVER Ainsley's POV until mid-novel of DARING FOREVER. If you don't want to ruin the anticipation built in the series, wait to read Sebastian's novel until after you've finished RISKING FOREVER and DARING FOREVER.

  For the first two volumes in the series, click here:

  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07NQKQZ88?ref_=pe_1724030_132998070

  About the Book

  Hiring Ainsley was a mistake but firing the little beauty when she's broke seems unfair. Besides, I like being around her. She doesn't want anything from me like everyone else. She's not aggressive or forceful. She's sweet, unexpected, and, damn, if she isn't getting under my skin. If I’m not careful, I'll drag her into my arms, my bed, and into the dark pit of my world—a place she doesn't belong. A place I don't belong, but a place I might be able to withstand if she's with me. ~ Sebastian Gianni

  The Forever Series is a new adult college romance that contains adult language and content. It follows Ainsley, a conflicted sophomore desperate to control her life, and Sebastian Gianni, a sexy senior rumored to have connections to the Italian Mafia.

  Table of Contents

  Warning

  About the Book

  Table of Contents

  About Serial Novels

  The Forever Series

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  RISKING FOREVER: Vol 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  A Special Thanks

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  About Serial Novels

  SEBASTIAN -RISKING FOREVER is a serial bonus novel to the Forever Series (RISKING FOREVER Vol 1, DARING FOREVER Vol 2, CLAIMING FOREVER Vol 3). The story is continuous and meant to be read in sequential order. The average length of each book is around 160 pages in paperback and can be read in a few hours or less. For this reason, I've heard them referred to as lunchtime reads.

  Why a serial novel?

  Many of my friends work full time and often opt out of reading due to the commitment of finishing a book. A serial novel introduces quick installments, or volumes, that make completing each a breeze.

  I read my first serial novel about a year ago and fell in love with the concept, which prompted me to launch this series in the same format—that and the novel was too long to be a single stand-alone. Thankfully, this was a great fit.

  Happy reading!!

  The Forever Series

  At twenty, Ainsley knows it's time to follow her own dreams and not the future her mother planned for her—a future she never wanted. Losing her job couldn't have come at a worse time.

  Sebastian Gianni isn’t the ideal boss, but he has a position to fill and Ainsley is desperate. The sexy twenty-two-year-old comes from money, owns a successful business, and graduates from college in three months. He has his life together in a way Ainsley could only dream.

  No wonder her best friend is obsessed with dating him. Even his ex-girlfriend is determined to get him back, although threatening him seems like the wrong approach. Ainsley would be a fool to fall for the guy, too.

  By no means, should she trust him. He has more secrets than anyone she knows, which makes her wonder if the mafia rumors about him are true. It doesn't matter that he's a good listener, and sweet and protective at times. That playful flirty side he shares with her alone means nothing. Right?

  When a kiss turns into a secret romance neither can give up, Ainsley learns the truth about Sebastian's corrupt family and why his ex-girlfriend won't go away. A future together is near impossible and comes with a risk that could get them both killed—or give them everything they've ever wanted.

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction including brands or products.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Copyright © 2019 by Tara Gallina Tara Gallina (2019-01-14). Sebastian - Risking Forever (The Forever Series Sebastian book one)

  Chapter 1

  I walk down the quiet campus hallway, pounding my fingers into the phone as I reply to my father's text. I hit it so hard the phone slips from my hand. I catch it before it falls to the floor and clutch the sides in a fierce grip so tight, I worry the screen might crack. That would be a quick way to end this conversation.

  Knowing my father, he'd have a minion from his detail bring a new phone to me before I exit the building. Controlling asshole.

  I grind my molars together to keep from shouting a curse. The halls are empty. I left class early, but I need to keep calm. If someone sees me lose my temper it will draw even more talk, more rumors about family connections, and I just want to be left alone.

  My phone vibrates in my hand with my father's reply.

  He wants to move up the ceremony? To when? I don’t graduate college for three more months. Nothing can happen before then. That is the agreement. It's in the contract I signed.

  Reminding him of that, I respond with a stream of No’s. Jesus. How many times do I have to tell him this?

  I won't agree to moving the initiation ceremony. I don't want to marry Marina sooner or at all. I don't even want to take over the fucking business. I can’t tell him any of this. He’d see it as the ultimate betrayal—want to kill me for it. Probably would in the same way he took my mother's life. Sadistic prick. Maybe death is a better alternative than a lifetime trapped with him.

  I don't want to be my father. I don’t want his life. I don't want this future. Problem is, I don't have a choice. The only way out of the family and business is through death. From the moment I was born my fate was set. Doomed.

  My father's reply hits me like a punch to the face. I know exactly how it feels from the many times his fist met my jaw as a child and teenager.

  Tell me no, one more time and I’ll make you sorry.

  My anger turns molten, and I respond with a punch of sorts of my own.

  You wish you could make me sorry. I hit send, certain he’ll both love and hate my response. Love it because I’m acting like him and hate it because I can beat his ass now. I can take him down and he knows it.

  It wasn’t until five years ago when I turned seventeen that I could. The little fight between us back then scared the shit out of him. It was the first time I ever saw fear in my father's cold, callous eyes.

  Afterward he stopped using me as a punching bag. His intention was never to beat me as much as it was to make me stronger and toughen me up for the life I was born into. All he has left to use on me are the mind
games. He'll never stop with those, not as long as he’s alive.

  He doesn’t reply to my antagonistic text which worries me more. No reply could mean he’s on a plane on his way here to finish this conversation face-to-face. It could also mean he got distracted by work, like always. The family business comes first, everything and everyone is second.

  "Look out!" a girl shouts.

  A gust of wind rushes my face. I glance up from my phone in time to see a large wooden door swinging toward me.

  A petite girl with more hair than body lunges for the door, her golden waves whipping out behind her as she scrambles to grab the handle.

  My instincts take over. I throw up my hand and catch the door seconds before it bashes my nose. My muscles strain against the force and weight of the heavy door but not enough to push me back, even the slightest amount. I’m too strong for that, made sure of it years ago.

  The girl's breath sputters from her chest and her body shakes.

  "Are you okay?" she asks with a voice that's both sweet and scratchy, angel and vixen, which makes me curious of her face.

  That hair hangs around her head and over her shoulders, blocking my view of her features like a protective barrier. Is that why she keeps her hair so long? Does she have something to hide too? For a moment, I envy her the ability to close herself off from prying eyes, even if it is just behind a mass of golden curls.

  Like a curtain, the hair parts in the middle enough for her to examine my hand that's clutching the door, but not enough for me to see anything other than the tip of her pert nose.

  "I think you're hurt," she says with rapt concern and leans in to inspect the two blood droplets on my knuckles.

  "They're tattoos," I say in a bored tone.

  I'm not hurt. Even if I were, I wouldn't notice, per my father's beatings—lessons as he called them. I've been conditioned to take pain and not respond or even notice it.

  "Mind over matter, son." The bastard’s words ring in my head, like they have for years.

  She points to the tattoos. "You're bleeding right here. It doesn't look bad, but you might want to get it checked out."

  This is almost funny. She's convinced the droplets are real. If I tell her I got the tattoos to match the blood I drew from my father’s mouth the first time I took him down, how would she react? Would she believe me and step away in fear? Does she know about me and the rumors? Everyone on campus does. The private college is small. It's one of the reasons why I chose it. I didn’t know the rumors would follow me from New York to Winter Park and spread like a wild fire. But when I chose this college assuming Central Florida is the last place my father would ever care to spend time, I didn’t know much. For example, I never thought he'd buy a house here just to remind me who's in charge.

  "I’m not bleeding." I try to keep my annoyance from leaking into my voice. "It's fake. I'm fine. Really."

  "But it looks so real." She brushes a finger, soft as a feather, over my knuckles. That small contact, so gentle, steals me from the burning rage that always simmers just below my skin.

  My protective nature rebels, urging me to be a dick and tell her to move before I let the heavy door swing closed, but I haven't seen her face. And for some stupid reason, I want to. I want to see her eyes, see if there’s anything in them that resembles that sweet, scratchy voice.

  I sense a sadness in her tone, the same unhappiness I hear in my own voice. I could be delusional, but I can't leave until I find out. I have two choices: slide a finger under her chin and lift her face to my level or walk away and forget about it. The fact that I’m still standing here wasting my time fuels my anger again.

  I don't bother hiding my agitation when I say, "It's 3D art. It's meant to look real. That's why people like it."

  I shift my weight, ready to step aside so she takes the hint. That's when her face starts to lift. Golden strands fall away, revealing smooth skin and plump lips. Jesus, girls pay a shit-ton to have their lips made to look like hers. But nothing about this girl screams money or fake. Long black lashes peek out from behind more of that wavy hair. Before I can glimpse her eyes, her attention averts to my neck.

  I tense and have to remind myself she can't see the scar there, just the tattoo I had done to camouflage it the way I covered all my scars. If she were taller, she wouldn't have noticed it, but the top of her head stops at my collarbone.

  "It's a dagger," I say, nervous at her close examination. Maybe she can see the scar. She draws in a deep breath and sways a little.

  "Sorry," she apologizes, though I don't know why. For being nosey? She tilts her head back farther, and I'm finally treated to her face and a pair of pale green eyes.

  They spread wide with a moment of shock. Yep. She knows who I am, but I’m too caught up in her features to care. They're not typical white girl features. Her eyes are big and beautiful with a slight tilt at the outer corners. Curiosity shines from within them along with that sadness I detected in her voice, like she wants to be happy but isn't quite there. Her high cheekbones and oval face would be hidden by her hair if her head weren't tilted so far back. I'm even more convinced she hides behind those wavy strands, which is a shame when she's so damn pretty.

  The golden color of her hair doesn't match her light olive skin or her exotic appearance. If I had to guess, I wouldn't say it's dyed though, which makes her even more unique. Most people must walk past her, noticing the tumble of waves falling around her, clueless to the real beauty hidden underneath. Good.

  The thought takes me back. Good? Where did that come from?

  My phone vibrates in my hand, reminding me I’m in the middle of a conversation with my father. So easily she was able to distract me from that.

  "Do you think you'll be moving out of the doorway anytime soon?" I arch a brow to emphasize my point. Move.

  Her mouth snaps shut, and she jumps out of the way. "Sorry."

  I release the door, letting it slam shut with a thud.

  "I’m sorry I almost hit you." She steps in front of me again. "I don't usually ram the doors like that." The nervous way she fiddles with her fingers is unexpected and cute.

  Most people avoid me like the plague, part from the mafia rumors and part from the fuck-off vibe I put out. It's easier, safer to keep my distance from people I don't know. I thought for sure this chick had heard about me, based on her earlier reaction to my face. Now, I don't think she does. Someone as innocent as she seems, wouldn't continue talking to me if she knew about the rumors—hell, if she knew the rumors were true.

  I hold up my phone and, for reasons unknown to me, excuse her almost hitting me in the face. "I wasn't paying attention. Texts can be distracting."

  "Must have been an important text," she says with eyes too bright and too inquisitive.

  Her comment spurs my paranoia. Why would she say that? She couldn't begin to understand the magnitude of the exchange between me and my father unless she can see my phone. Was I holding it in a way that she could read it? Is that what she was doing when I thought she was studying the tattoos on my hand, and why she kept her hair shielding her eyes? My father uses various people to spy on me. Not as much lately because I can spot his runts a mile away, but this girl I would never suspect. If she is, he's upping his game, fearing he needs to, which isn't a good sign for me.

  Something in my expression must jar her. She steps back, a hint of concern in her eyes. "So, you're okay then?"

  I give her a stiff nod and am about to step around her when she beats me to it.

  "I'll be going then. You take care now." She gives my arm an awkward pat as she walks past me, heading the other way.

  I stiffen as a current runs up my arm from the place she touched. That's twice she made contact with me in the short time we talked. I don't like when people touch me—something my good friend Nathan thinks is hilarious—let alone people I don't know.

  Am I seriously letting this tiny girl fuck with my head? She's harmless, nothing, and far too innocent to be coerced by my father's m
en. I'm letting my paranoia get the best of me but being in the mafia has that effect.

  Chapter 2

  I check my phone as I stalk down the hall toward the exit to the parking lot. My father's reply is waiting for me.

  Next time I’m in town, we'll have a rematch and see who's sorry then. I'm due for a visit soon. We have business to discuss and a merger to solidify. Marina's father wants to join us for our meeting. You better be over yourself and back together with her by then. Put your personal shit aside and do what's right by the family. She is a priority. Now, quit dicking around and do what's expected of you. I'll be in touch.

  Asshole. I shove the exit door with all my strength. It flies open and hits the rubber stopper, bouncing off and hurling back to close. Anger and resentment course through my veins growing stronger with each step I take. It's bad enough I was put on this earth to fulfill my father's twisted hopes and dreams. Now, he wants me to kiss my bitch of a fiancée's ass to appease his needs too. Fuck this!

  I storm toward my car with one thought in my head. Get in and get far enough away that by the time he realizes I'm gone, I'll have one hell of a running start. If I thought he wouldn't find me and kill me, I might try to leave. But I know better, saw firsthand what my father does to people who try to leave the family. My mother made that mistake when I was eleven. That's why he killed her.

  I squint against the bright sun.

  Either it's hot as fuck outside or it's me. I'm angry as hell, so it could be me. When I chose this college, I didn't factor in the heat and how it lasted all damn year. Spring in New York is perfect. Spring in Winter Park, Florida feels like the hottest summer up north. I'd only been as hot as this once before. The summer I visited my grandfather in Sicily, Italy. This campus isn't that different than his estate with its Mediterranean architecture.