Chapter 13
“Seriously, though,” Jesse says, reeling me back in after spinning me so hard I almost fall. “I don’t care how rich he is. If he’s an ass, I’ll rearrange his face for you.”
That would be sad. It’s such a handsome face.
A throat clearing has us both stopping in our tracks. Sebastian stands there, expression carefully neutral, gaze bouncing between Jesse and me. I can’t tell if he heard Jesse’s threat. He doesn’t mention it, but his jaw is tight. “May I cut in?” he murmurs, in a low voice that catches me off guard with the chills it sends down my spine.
Jesse sighs, but it’s playful, and he hands me over without argument. “I guess it’s time to go steal Alice from Dylan.”
I laugh. “You get handsy with Brian’s little sister, and it’s your face that will be rearranged.”
He smirks. “I can take that book nerd any day of the week. I don’t care how many sword lessons he’s had.”
“But could you take Brian and Dylan?”
Jesse glances to where Alice and her boyfriend, Dylan, are standing beside Brian, laughing about who knows what. “Remember, Dylan just did that boxing movie,” I remind him. “I bet he knows how to throw a punch.”
He frowns, considering it, then sighs. “I need a woman.”
My jaw falls open at the truth laced in his words. If Jesse Ramos is really ready to settle down, I’m all for that. “As soon as I’m home, I’ll help you find one.”
He backs away, grinning at me. “I’ll hold you to that, mi bailarina hermosa.”
Once he’s gone, Sebastian and I are left standing in the middle of the dance floor. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it curiously. I’m not as offput by his interruption as I thought I’d be. Unlike Jesse, Sebastian doesn’t hold me at arm’s length. His hand slips around my waist and settles at the small of my back. He pulls me in close enough that our chests brush against each other. I suck in a breath through my nose, and his cologne assaults my senses. It’s sort of musky and woodsy at the same time. Masculine, but not overbearing. It’s subtle, but mouthwatering. It should be a crime to smell as good as he does.
I’m not sure when my eyes fall shut, but I open them to find Sebastian’s gaze locked on my lips. He pulls me to him even tighter, smashing our bodies together.
I gasp. “What are you doing?”
He brings our hands up to rest on his chest and starts to sway us gently. He ducks his head and rests it against the side of mine. “Dancing,” he murmurs.
I want to fight him, but my body is suddenly all tingly. It’s making it very hard to keep rational thoughts in my head. “Do you dance like this with all the girls?”
His reply sounds distracted. “I don’t usually dance.”
I think he’s telling the truth, and I’m flattered despite myself. We may have had the most uncomfortable ride here, but that awkwardness is nowhere to be found now. “Why make the exception?”
“I got tired of watching you in someone else’s arms.”
There’s a bite of jealousy and maybe even a hint of possession in his words. I should not be swooning. And yet, I relax in his hold. We stay this way through the next two songs. He doesn’t say anything else, but I’ve noticed he’s a man of few words. What’s surprising is my lack of need to fill the silence. I’m definitely a nervous talker.
We pull apart when Bryce steps up to the podium and calls the room to attention. “If you’ll all find your seats, dinner is ready to be served.”
I’m both disappointed and relieved that the moment has ended. I was not expecting to react to Sebastian on such a physical level like that. The last thing I want is to like the man. I do not need a crush on a man who’s a) looking for a wife, and b) technically dating fourteen other women. I know this show. They pride themselves on breaking hearts. No thanks. Don’t need or want that headache. It’s nice to feel a little more comfortable around him, though. I don’t want to like him, but I don’t need to hate him, either.
We find our seats at a table near the front not too far from where Ella and Brian are seated. The rest of our friends are spread out around the room. They were warned about the separation ahead of time. People like meeting celebrities. If they’re seated with a celebrity, they feel special, and people tend to be more generous if they feel important. I lucked out, though, and have at least one familiar face. Country music sensation Carla Wilson is a dear friend of mine. We bonded over her horrible fashion sense and my ability to help her out of fashion emergencies. “Vivian!” she cheers when she arrives at the table. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
She takes a spin, and her long blonde hair twirls out along with the pink folds of her gown. “Isn’t it fabulous?”
“It’s lovely,” a familiar-looking woman sitting at our table agrees. She’s eyeing Carla’s gown with a critical eye. “Who’s your designer?”
Carla shoots me a wide grin and waves her hand my direction. “She is.” She smooths her hands down the sides of her dress. “This is a Vivian original. Along with her own gown and Ella’s. It’s too bad the twins decided not to come tonight. I wanted to see your take on Elsa and Anna.”
The woman turns her appraising eyes on me. She’s in a stunning teal mermaid gown, made of chiffon and sequins. She’s definitely going for Ariel as her princess for the night. She looks amazing.
It’s as we’re looking each other over that I finally figure out why she looks familiar. I can’t stifle my gasp. “Marguerite Dubois?”
She’s only one of the top fashion designers in the world. She was the queen of Paris’s fashion week last year. She’s one of my idols. I’m going to kill Ella for not telling me she was coming. And then I’m going to suffocate her with hugs for sitting us at the same table.
“You designed your dress?” she asks, impressed. “And hers?”
“And Ella’s,” Carla brags.
I shrug, but my cheeks heat. “To be fair, the designs were all Disney princess inspired. Rapunzel, Belle, Cinderella…”
“Still, your unique take on each is impressive.”
I’m going to die. Marguerite Dubois just said she’s impressed with me. I reach beneath the table and grab Sebastian’s hand, squeezing the life out of it to keep from squealing like a giddy fangirl. “Thank you. That’s an honor coming from you.”
“Do you have your own line?”
“Not yet, but that’s the goal. I was hired on as the lead wardrobe specialist for Marry Me this season, so I’m still dressing people in others’ clothes, but like every good designer, I hope to have my own show at Fashion Week one day.”
“Marry Me, huh?” She gives me another once-over. “You must know your fashion. I’ll have to watch it when the season airs. If I like your style, perhaps I could find a place for you at Couture Dubois as a junior designer.”
I start shaking. My fashion idol just dangled my wildest fantasy in front of me. I knew Marry Me would open some doors for me, but Couture Dubois? I can’t believe this is happening. I nearly jump out of my seat when Sebastian puts his arm around the back of my chair. He leans over and whispers, “Breathe.”
I hadn’t realized I’d stopped. I gulp in much-needed oxygen and lean into Sebastian when he hugs me to him. I can barely stay upright. I just want to melt into a puddle in my chair. “That would be…” I shake my head. “I would do just about anything to design for Couture Dubois.”
Marguerite gives me a small, pleased smile. “Then I look forward to seeing your work.”
Dinner is served, and the conversation turns from fashion to adoption. Most people present are friends of the organization in some way. Marguerite’s sister, who runs the American branch of Couture Dubois out of Los Angeles, was unable to have children and used the F is For Families agency to adopt her daughter. Marguerite wanted to give to the organization that has made her sister so blissfully happy. It only makes me love her more.
From there the night only gets better. I give my speech without forgetting it or falling on my face. Dinner is fantastic. The entertainment is great—a family-friendly comedian who was adopted later in his childhood and uses his experiences in his material—and we bring in way more donations than we expected. I even happily float around the dance floor with Sebastian several more times after dinner. It’s a magical night, and my head is in the clouds.
I don’t start to come down from my high until we’re riding back to the mansion together after the event. We’re sitting beside each other, and I’m leaning against him with my head on his shoulder. He’s holding my hand on his thigh. I’m so giddy from the dreamlike evening that I don’t realize we’re basically cuddling until James prompts us into discussion. He’s sitting across the limo from us beside his cameraman with a pleased smile. “Looks like you two have gotten cozy.”
I sit up and pull my hand from Sebastian’s grip. My cheeks flush. “Sorry,” I mutter.
Beside me, Sebastian says nothing, but his body stiffens. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking. The other women said that during their time with him, he was very standoffish. He got mad anytime someone touched him or got too clingy, and here I am snuggling against him. Why didn’t he push me away like he did the other girls? Ana told me he literally pushed Bridget off him, but he just held my hand.
I risk a quick peek and find him glaring out his window. I feel bad for upsetting him, but I’m not sure how to make it right. I search for something to say. “Thank you for putting up with me tonight and letting me drag you around introducing you to half the world. I know social functions aren’t your favorite.”
He takes so long to respond that I don’t think he will, but then he turns to me and shrugs. “Tonight wasn’t about me. Did you enjoy your evening? Did everything go as you’d hoped?”
“Better,” I admit, surprised by his attitude. I had him pegged as a selfish man, but maybe that’s not entirely accurate.
“Then it was my pleasure,” he says. He stares at me with a look so intense it has me squirming in my seat. He’s not smiling. I’m not sure the man knows how to smile. But he’s not frowning. He’s just staring. Lasering his gaze into mine as if he’s trying to impress upon me the importance of his confession.
I suck my lips between my teeth, unsure what to do with this moment. I can’t categorize it. Good? It’s not bad. It’s not romantic. I don’t think. Maybe this is his version of friendly? I can’t read him. I do know having him this close and giving off so much intensity is raising my heart rate. I just don’t know if it’s in a good way or purely nerves. “Well, thank you.” I mutter the words, unable to find my full confidence. This man flusters me. “It meant a lot to me.”
We’re quiet for a minute, but this time it’s comfortable. It doesn’t last long, though, because James clears his throat and motions for us to keep talking. Ugh. I’m already over being forced to converse, and it’s easy for me to talk to people. I can’t imagine how much a quiet man like Sebastian must hate it. Again, I can’t help wondering why on Earth he’s putting himself through this. I doubt it’s for the fame.
“You seem to know a lot of celebrities,” he says, pulling me from my musings.
I’ve gotten this question before. “I guess. They’re not celebrities to me anymore, they’re just my friends. Regular people, both amazing and flawed.”
“Does it ever bother you that they’re famous and you’re not?”
I’ve gotten this question many times, too. People have a hard time believing I don’t get jealous of my friends’ fame and money. I get it. It seems like it would be fun and exciting, and I can’t say I wouldn’t mind having a cushy bank account, but I don’t need it. I’m happy. I shake my head. “Are you kidding? Fame is a nightmare. I see the way it controls my friends’ lives. I don’t need or want that kind of attention. I got a small taste of it when Ella and Brian went through that whole Cinder Ella thing. The world was obsessed for a while, and as Ella’s best friend, that obsession included me. I worked hard to regain my anonymity, and my friends do what they can to help me keep my privacy.” I wave my hand toward the camera. “This whole fiasco is going to undo all my hard work.”
He clears his throat and tries to sound casual when he asks, “Would you ever date one? Jesse, maybe? He seemed interested.”
I burst into laughter. “Date Jesse? Good heavens, no!”
Sebastian startles at my outburst, but I can’t help it. Jesse Ramos?
“Jesse is a great guy,” I explain. “I love him dearly, but he’s an overgrown child. He’ll make some woman very happy when he finally decides to grow up and take his relationships seriously, but it won’t be me.”
Sebastian studies me with slightly narrowed eyes. “So, you need someone more serious?”
I hesitate, thrown by the question. Do I detect a hint of satisfaction in his tone? Or maybe relief?
I shrug. “I need someone mature,” I correct. “I appreciate a sense of humor as much as anyone, but I want someone who will be able to handle all the curveballs life throws at us.”
His lips twitch, lifting just a millimeter for half a second. It’s the closest thing I’ve seen to a smile from him. I guess he agrees with me. “What about you?” I ask, suddenly very curious about the type of woman Sebastian is looking for. “What do you need in a partner?”
His brow furrows, but it’s not an angry frown. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
He’s never thought about it? How is that possible? I would think he’d be downright anal-retentive about the kind of woman he’d let into his life. Maybe even expect perfection. “What about your last girlfriend? What did you like or dislike about her?”
His face goes blank, and he shifts in his seat. The way he squirms, I imagine he’d be tugging at his collar if there weren’t a camera trained on us. “I’ve never had a serious girlfriend.”
My eyebrows fly up. The man is over thirty, and he’s never had a relationship?
He cringes at the look of shock on my face. “I’ve dated,” he says defensively. “I’ve been with women. But a real, committed relationship? I’ve never had time for one. I’ve never met a woman whose motives I’ve trusted enough to even consider it.”
Trust issues. I guess, as a billionaire, I can understand that. It just makes this situation all the more baffling. “Do you really think you’re going to find a trustworthy woman on a reality TV show? Most of them probably applied to the show for the publicity. And if you’ve never had time for a girlfriend before, what’s changed? A wife needs your time too, you know.”
He sighs as if he’s so tired of being questioned about that and glances out his window. He doesn’t answer me, and we fall back into silence. I guess we’ve talked enough because James doesn’t make us keep going. In the quiet, my eyes start to droop. It’s late, and it’s been a really long night. I’m ready to take a nice, hot shower and climb into bed. I’m actually looking forward to having the day off tomorrow. There’s going to be another group date, which I won’t be on since I went on a solo date tonight. I’ll have the whole day to relax before the rose ceremony tomorrow. And even better, the gala is over, so I can be done with this whole farce and go back to being just the wardrobe girl.
When the limo reaches the mansion, James directs Sebastian to walk me to the door. That earns him a glare from my cranky companion. I’m not sure if he hates being told what to do, or if he just hates being forced to show any kind of affection. It’s probably both. Either way, he walks me to the front door with his jaw clenched and his hands clasped behind his back. Before he can wish me good night, we’re instructed to wait for the cameras to reposition so they can get close-ups of our goodnight. I don’t know why they’re bothering. It’s not like Sebastian’s going to kiss me or anything. They’ll just get a close-up of my awkward smile and his curt farewell. Exciting.
We stand there in awkward silence until the cameras are locked into place. James gives us a bright smile and says, “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”
Then Sebastian and I are standing there facing each other at the end of a forced date and a dozen people are just watching us, waiting for some kind of intimate good-bye. I’ve never felt more awkward and uncomfortable in my entire life. I have a new appreciation for the past contestants on this show. They all make it look so easy. So comfortable. There have been some couples who’ve seemed so natural. Were they really so into each other that they could forget about the cameras, or were they just better actors than Sebastian and me?
Everyone is staring and waiting. They’re not going to let us leave until we give them some usable footage. I meet Sebastian’s dark gaze with a strained smile, and he nods, his poker face back in place. “Thanks again,” I mutter. “It was fun.”
I expect another nod, and maybe, if I’m lucky, a grunt of some kind. So I’m downright shocked when Sebastian takes my hand and rubs his thumb over my knuckles. “You do look beautiful tonight,” he says gruffly.
I freeze, so shocked by the compliment I can do nothing but blink at the man. Frustration flitters through his eyes, but what reaction did he expect?
“I should have told you when I first saw you,” he says. His eyes flick to the camera, and he grimaces. I think he hates them worse than I do.
I gently shake the hand he’s still holding to regain his attention. “Thank you. And, again, thank you for finding a solution that allowed me to go tonight. It means a lot to me.” My mouth quirks up a little into a small, teasing smirk. “And I guess you weren’t the worst date I’ve ever had.”
If I was hoping for any kind of reaction other than his poker face, I’m sorely disappointed. He just does that staring thing again. The moment stretches out into such a long pause that it starts to get awkward. I tug my hand, but Sebastian doesn’t let it go. It seems to spur him into motion, though. His gaze bounces between my eyes and then falls to my mouth. When he gulps and his throat bobs, something flutters in my stomach. He can’t possibly want to kiss me. Can he?
After what looks like an intense internal debate, he drops my hand and steps back. “Goodnight, Vivian.”
That is not disappointment I feel. Not at all. “Goodnight, Sebastian.”
He heads off toward whatever part of this insanely large compound they’re keeping him stashed in, and I push my way inside the main house. José and his secondary camera crew are all set up and waiting for me in the living room. “What’s this?”
José grins at me. “Your confessional video.”
I groan.
“It’ll only take a few minutes, then you can be done for the night. Promise.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, I make my way to the couch and sit down in front of the camera. “What do you want to know?”
“How was it?” José asks.
“It went well,” I admit. “A lot better than I expected.”
“How was Sebastian?”
How was Sebastian? He was different tonight. Not nearly as growly and arrogant. He had been in the limo at first, but he toned it down after I lost it and begged him not to ruin this night for me. It was nice of him. “He was reluctant,” I say, trying to put his attitude into the right words. It isn’t easy. Sebastian might be the most complicated man I’ve ever met. “But he was polite.”
“Polite?” José asks, unimpressed.
I laugh. “Well, he’s not Prince Charming, but he wasn’t a total Beast, either. He mostly stayed quiet and let me have my night. He’s not a bad dancer, though.”
Actually, he was a really good dancer. Confident and not afraid to get close. Dancing with him was one of the highlights of my night. Not that I’m going to admit that to the camera.
“Are you disappointed he didn’t kiss you goodnight?”
I cock a brow at him. “Were you spying on us through the front window?”
He smirks. “Were you?”
“Disappointed he didn’t kiss me?” I laugh. “No.”
The lie rolls off my tongue easily. And it is a lie, as much as I hate to admit it. I wasn’t devastated or anything, but there was a small pang of regret when he pulled away from me. I must be going crazy. I think it’s been too long since I’ve been in a relationship.