Chapter 8
SAbrINA
The diamond’s chain bit into my neck as I yanked back. “Wait.”
Things were moving way too fast.
One moment, édouard had humiliated me for overstepping. The next, I wore his dress, a diamond rested at my throat, and Sebastian Diamanti’s hand locked around my waist.
We passed several museum security guards who’d done nothing to stop Sebastian’s earlier violence, and they dipped their heads in a way that felt…off. Not polite. Deferential.
“That’s the last man I’d try to stop.”
The others gave quiet grunts of agreement.
A chill curled down my spine.
Who was Sebastian, that even men with guns and authority stepped aside, afraid to look him in the eye?
My fingers shook around the clasp of the necklace, which resisted my effort to open it. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this.”
It would be career suicide to piss off édouard any further.
Sebastian’s hands clamped around my wrists. “Stop.”
I jerked against his hold, but his grip only tightened. “There are at least twenty models who would eagerly compete to wear this gown and showcase your diamond.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Your point being?”
I swiveled my head back and forth, desperately hoping someone would hear our conversation and intervene.
“My point is that it would be wildly inappropriate for me to wear this dress and attend the pre-party with you. It’s just not done. There are rules.”
Sebastian loomed over me. “You and I are going to have to establish some rules of our own. Rule number one, don’t disobey me.”
My back stiffened, snapping my shoulders back.
Disobey him? WTH.
How the hell was I supposed to navigate this?
On one hand, I would anger édouard and possibly ruin my fashion stylist career before it even started.
On the other, I risked pissing off the man behind the powerful House of Diamanti, itself a force within my industry.
There was no winning.
“I’m not trying to disobey you. I just don’t understand…”
He released my wrists and pushed my hair back over my shoulders. “All you need to understand is that I want you on my arm, wearing my diamond.”
I waved my hand over my form, gesturing to the ill-fitting dress and the hem pooling on the floor since it was several inches too long for my height. “I look ridiculous, and I don’t have permission to wear this.”
He placed a hand on the doorjamb, blocking my view of the backstage area, where the activity had reached a fever pitch. “The only permission you need is mine. Remember that.”
“But—”
His hand cupped my jaw as he pressed his thumb over my lips. “No more arguments. Now, you can walk into that party on my arm or over my shoulder. The choice is yours.”
My eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He smirked. “You have until the count of one to decide.”
“This is—”
“One.”
His body shifted as he lowered his torso, preparing to haul me over his shoulder.
I pressed my hands against him. “On your arm! On your arm! I choose on your arm.”
He straightened. “Brava ragazza. Good girl.”
My cheeks burned at the humiliating rush of pleasure through my core at his seductive approval.
The staff froze when we passed, their eyes tracking us with a mix of curiosity, envy, and thinly veiled fear.
I tugged on Sebastian’s arm as we neared édouard.
The feathers framing his head trembled.
His lips had gone bloodless, and he cradled his injured arm.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink.
Just stared at Sebastian.
I opened my mouth to explain, but Sebastian’s voice cut clean through the tension.
“édouard, I’m certain you approve of my decision to showcase the Yellow Persian diamond with one of your designs…on the stunning Mademoiselle Badalamenti.”
How does he know my last name?
édouard’s eyes dropped to the diamond then shot back to Sebastian. He gave a jerky nod and spun toward the staff.
“Vite! Vite!” he snapped in rapid French, waving frantically with his good hand. “Fix the hem! Re-pin the feathers! Lipstick, now!”
In a blur, I was swarmed.
Two women dropped to their knees to pin the hem. Another adjusted the train.
A makeup artist appeared, tilting my chin and sweeping color across my lips in quick, trembly motions.
édouard stepped back, breathing hard, his eyes bright and twitchy. “There. Now she is perfect.”
Sebastian’s gaze never left me. “She was already perfect.”
Something about this whole thing just didn't sit right.
The moment the seamstresses finished, Sebastian swept me past the heavy curtains that separated the backstage area from the guests.
My vision immediately blurred from multiple camera flashes as the various photographers called out Sebastian’s name.
I tightened my hand on his arm and stepped closer to the protection of his body.
He slipped his arm from my grasp and placed it protectively around my middle to pull me close.
He spoke to the crowd in French, then Italian, and finally English.
“The lovely Sabrina Dolce Badalamenti has graciously agreed to showcase the House of Diamanti’s latest acquisition, the Yellow Persian.
It is a pear-cut, one-hundred-carat diamond.
For those interested, it will be up for auction next month, with bids starting at ten million euros. ”
Ten million euros?
I reached up to caress the diamond, which rested just below my collarbone.
I had ten million euros around my neck? Oh God.
I raised my hand to shield my mouth. Sebastian was already watching me. “You put a ten-million-euro diamond on me?”
Of course I knew it was an enormous diamond, but I just assumed it was fake.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry. Next time I drape you in diamonds, I won’t do it so cheaply.”
Cheap? He thought this was cheap?
Yelena Ivanova was right. I was in way over my head.
In a display of perfect timing, a server walked by holding a tray of champagne.
I snatched a glass. Despite the bubbles tickling my nose, I drained it in one gulp.
I then grabbed a second glass.
Before I could take a sip, warm fingers covered mine.
I looked up to meet Sebastian’s dark gaze as he pulled the glass from my grasp. “And that’s enough champagne for you, little one. I have plans for you later, and they will require you to be sober.”
Why did that sound like a threat?
I tried to swallow as my throat closed.
The next hour went by in a blur of faces and the din of animated conversations as Sebastian worked the crowd of influential designers, buyers, and celebrities. The entire time, he kept his arm tightly around my waist.
Repeatedly, he introduced me as a talented, up-and-coming fashion stylist.
The first time someone asked me for my business card, I floundered. Before I could give them my social media info, Sebastian interjected.
“You can reach Sabrina through the House of Diamanti.”
I bristled at the presumption. “I have cards with me. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I can go grab them.”
Knowing what an opportunity Paris would be, I’d ordered glossy, heavy stock business cards with silver foil that had links to my social media portfolios. I’d wanted to be prepared just in case I had an opportunity to network.
Sebastian’s arm shifted to caress up my back before he fisted my hair.
I stilled.
Keeping a smile for the guests standing before us, he tightened his grasp on my curls and whispered for my ears only. “If they want to talk to you, they go through me.”
Alarm bells rang in my head. I quieted them by reasoning that he must have assumed they would inquire about the diamond, which was fair.
Still, it seemed a shame to waste this opportunity. “For the diamond, yes, but some might want to hire me for—”
“You’re not available for hire.”
My shoulders tensed, my spine stiffening at the audacity of his possessiveness as it sank in. “But—”
He turned us to face another photographer. “Smile for the cameras, sweetheart.”
Several reporters exchanged looks at Sebastian’s endearment.
Uh-oh.
I tugged on the lapel of his suit jacket to get his attention. “Maybe don’t call me that in front of the press?”
He ignored me as he continued to work the crowd with me glued to his side.
Everyone approached Sebastian like he was royalty. Even the movie stars seemed starstruck, their smiles too wide, their voices too eager. I half expected someone to drop to one knee and kiss his damn signet ring.
People didn’t just admire him. They feared him.
I understood why when one man tried to speak to me directly—sort of. He barely glanced at my face, his gaze fixed on my cleavage as he mumbled about the diamond.
Before I could respond, Sebastian shifted. One smooth step, and he stood in front of me, cutting the man off without so much as a glance.
“He was asking about your diamond,” I muttered. “Isn’t that the point of this?”
“The very last thing he was looking at was the fucking diamond. And if you think that’s why you’re here, then you haven’t been paying attention.”
A strange flutter twisted through my chest. I risked a glance at him from beneath my lashes. It was like staring at a Roman statue come to life, all hard angles and cold stone.
After close to an hour, Sebastian made it clear he was no longer interested in holding court. His ability to scatter the crowd with a mere look terrified me.
He led me to a quiet corner, partially concealed behind one of the Cour Marly’s intricate topiaries.
“I’m pleased,” he said. “You did very well.”
I toyed with the necklace chain, trying to deflect the warm flush creeping up my neck. “The diamond did most of the work.”
His brow dipped. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Deflecting my compliments.”
My stomach flipped. “Yes, sir.”
The words came out before I could stop them—too obedient, too eager. Shame burned through me.
He traced the curve of my exposed shoulder with his finger. “That’s more like it.”
I reached to unlatch the diamond necklace, but my fingertips kept slipping over the clasp. “I need to get back.”
“What would you do if I said no?”
My eyebrows shot up. “No? As in, I’m not allowed to leave…no?”
Keeping his intense gaze trained on me, he nodded slowly.
My pulse missing a beat, I gave up trying to unclasp the necklace and lowered my head.