His Property
Sebastian read the message, and groaned, not giving him an answer.
How the fuck did he know? Why did he care?
He pocketed his mobile and walked into the cafe, on guard, but not visibly, and spotted Greg in the corner immediately, but didn’t go straight to him, but to the counter to order a drink.
Greg sat at a table far the from the door, nervously wringing his hands. He had ordered a small coffee when he had walked in but he had barely touched it. He tries not to stare at the creepy little man staring at him from across the room, whose smirk was widening further and further into an almost manic grin.
Greg did his best not to sigh with relief and jump up when he watched Bastian walk in and stalk straight to the counter and begin ordering. It was safest, he assumed, to pretend not to know him. Greg busied himself with his drink then, grabbing a paper off the empty table next to him.
