No Rest for the Wicked

By: Katherine Garbera

An International Bad Boy Novella



Dear Readers,



I had so much fun writing Sebastian and Celeste’s story because redemption through love is one of my favorite themes. Also, I wanted to explore a little bit how one action has a huge impact on the rest of your life. I’m sure you have all experienced those moments where as soon as you do something your stomach sinks, and it’s not regret exactly but just the knowledge that you can’t undo what you’ve done.

I’m a coward so I always think, why did I take this risk? But in the end, usually my decisions have been the right ones and that is true of Celeste when she takes a chance on Sebastian.

I hope you enjoy reading No Rest For The Wicked!

Take care,

Katherine ;)





Chapter One





Celeste Beacon had seen a lot of tough cases in her years as a grief counselor, but this one was the worst. She skimmed the information the subject’s parents presented her, but honestly, she kept coming back to the photo taken last weekend on a beach off the coast of Cape Town, South Africa. He had the kind of serious muscles that she associated with a Hollywood beefcake, instead of a troubled soul.

“Will you take this case?” Theodore Warren asked. He was tall, and as she let her gaze move from the ripped pectorals in the photo to the square jaw, chiseled cheekbones and bright blue eyes, she realized that his son resembled him. They both looked to be tall, at least six-foot, four-inches and fit. Theo’s dark hair showed some grey at the temples whereas Sebastian’s didn’t. They both had a strong jaw . . . stubborn? Only time would tell. And the eyes were the same silvery grey color though Theodore had none of the wildness in his expression the way that Sebastian did.

“I’m not sure I can help your son. My normal client is usually much younger,” she said. And she had never been attracted to one based on a photo before. To be fair, she’d never felt this mixture of desire and emotion before. There was something about Sebastian Warren that fascinated her from the moment she’d seen him flashed all over the television.

She’d heard the news the same way everyone else—even his parents—had. Blasted on the 24-hour-news network as Sebastian’s high octane sports car careened off the road and into a highway stanchion, while he’d been racing with his best friend, Judd Ricken. Judd’s car had flipped end over end before landing on the roof in an explosion of flames.

“Please,” Marilyn Warren said. “We have tried everything else. He’s thirty-one, so too old for us to restrict his trust fund—not that he needs that money—he’s got his own successful tech business. I’ve begged and his father has talked to him more times than either of us can count. We don’t know what else to do.”

Celeste pulled the file back to her and flipped past the hot-guy photo that had stopped her before. She read the list of activities he’d engaged in over the past year. The counselor in her noted that there was definite evidence of an escalation of danger in the events. And, he seemed to be staying in one place for a shorter amount of time. Something she thought might be a pattern as well.

“I’ll meet with him, Marilyn. Then I will let you know if I can help him or not,” she said, unable to resist the mother’s plea.

“Wonderful,” she said, patting her hair as she glanced over at her husband. “I told you talking to another therapist would work; we just need someone who can break through to him.”

“I haven’t said yes yet,” she warned. She knew deep inside that she wasn’t going to take this case, but she wanted to meet him. Maybe if she talked to him she’d . . . what? Teenagers who’d been victims of unexpected tragedy were her normal clients. How was she going to help a thirty-one-year-old billionaire who was out of control? A man who seemed to have left every bit of the man he’d been behind in the wreckage they’d pulled him from.

Now, he was a playboy of the first order. Sleeping his way through Europe’s lesser royal baronesses, princesses and ladies. Everyone coped with grief in a different way, she reminded herself.

Theodore took his wife’s hand and squeezed it before he sat forward in his chair. “It’s important that he doesn’t realize we spoke to you. He doesn’t want us to interfere.”

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