CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SEBASTIAN
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C licking send on the email, I sit back in my executive chair and stare out at the Manhattan skyline. My thoughts immediately flick to Emily.
She met with Mason today, and it’s taking all my willpower to pretend I don’t care.
Emily is in love with you.
Damn sheikh, he’s brainwashed me.
Bullshit, you didn’t want her to leave, well before the lie was exposed.
My eyes are red from not sleeping much the past week, and I have some decisions to make. There are three more days before the sheik’s deadline.
I’ve worked out the numbers, and I believe I can ride out this very fucking large bump in the road. We’ve pulled strings, and the zoning application has been approved.
That might be enough to get Khalid back on board.
Or I bankroll it personally.
It’s not ideal.
The other alternative is I propose to Emily.
I shake my head.
The idea is insane. Yes, I miss her. Yes, I am going out of my damn mind worrying about how she feels and if she has enough money. I liked Josh on her tail, knowing she was safe wherever she went.
Now?
Now she is somewhere in New York, unprotected and...not in my arms.
Not in my bed.
I don’t fucking like it.
I push back my chair and stand, restless. Walking to the window, I glance down at the city.
Where are you Emily?
What if I did marry her? Jesus, I’ve known her less than a month. I met her on a damn flight and... well, we know what happened then. Not exactly the story we will tell our kids.
Or my parents.
Certainly not her fucking father.
I need her back home. Every inch of my penthouse smells like her. Except her pillow. I had to wash it and that made me irrationally angry.
Last week I found a hair tie she left behind, and it only occurred to me this morning that I’ve been sleeping with it beside the bed every night like it’s some kind of comfort teddy bear.
What is wrong with me?
So, yeah, I might be bloody in love with her and that.
Was.
Not.
The.
Fucking.
Plan.
I slide my hand through the front of my hair and tug it. Then my phone rings. I round my desk in a hurry, and when I see Mason’s name, I click answer. Sitting, his face appears.
“New look?” He grins.
“What?” I glance at my small image in the corner, then pat down my hair. “I was pulling my hair out waiting for you to call. Miss you.”
“You’re a dick.” Mason snorts.
I smother my grin. “How did it go?”
“It was interesting,” Mason replies slowly.
My eyes narrow. “What do you mean, interesting?”
What could’ve gone wrong?
It was a job interview. I can’t imagine her doing anything strange or interesting.
“Emily’s a high-quality personal assistant. What the hell does interesting mean? Give her the damn job.” I can hear the defensive tone in my voice, but I also don’t care.
“Settle down, Romeo.” Mason laughs. “She interviewed very well.”
I relax, ignoring his taunt.
“But we do have a problem. I need someone to start immediately, and Emily doesn’t know our software sys—”
“She can learn. She’s smart.” God, even I can hear how pushy I sound.
“Sebastian. I need someone to hit the ground running. I waited an extra week, thinking Emily would fit the bill. It’s my fuckup, I missed the gap in her resume.” Mason shakes his head. “We don’t have anyone to train her, nor do we have time.”
Fuck.
I am not letting her get on a plane to face her father. His comment has stuck with me. I wonder suddenly if that’s why she went to speak to the protester.
I can help...
God, was she trying to prove herself to me? To show she can add value? I’ve employed enough people in my career that I can’t believe I missed that.
Of course, she did.
Otherwise, she never crossed the line. Her behavior in the office was always professional, respectful—even while in a fake relationship with me—and I have to admire that.
I put her in a terrible position.
It was me that asked her to do inappropriate things. More than once, I fantasized about dragging her into a closet or my personal bathroom and bending her over to fuck her.
I’ll be honest, I still wish I had.
While I care that her father might be a jerk if she heads back to London with her tail between her legs, I also feel responsible for that possibility.
It was me who encouraged her mouth onto my cock while thirty thousand feet in the air. It was me who asked her to fake being my fiancée. It was my employee who sabotaged the project and was responsible for outing our lie.
Me.
Not her.
Emily was simply collateral damage. If I wasn’t fighting my own inner demons, I would’ve called her by now. I would’ve told her how goddamn much I miss her. How I want to hold her in my arms and nuzzle into her neck, breathing in her scent.
How I want her back in my bed.
The thought of Emily flying back to England makes my heart rate skyrocket. Fortunately, my jet is back in New York, so I’d fucking fly after her.
And yet you still think you don’t want to marry her.
“Did you tell her?” I demand, itching to end the call with Mason so I can call her immediately. Would she answer? Is she okay?
God, she must be absolutely devastated and miserable knowing she might have to return home.
I’ll find her something else.
My company isn’t an option. The office is full of gossip after the gala. Amanda and Julie stood in my office last week giving me their strong opinions.
I listened and agreed.
It was a fucking stupid idea.
“Yes. We discussed it while she was here. Your girl solved my problem on the spot.”
Of course, she did.
My girl.
Emily could be my wife if I listened to Khalid. Let’s just say I did it’s unlikely, and I’m not saying I would, but I’ve hurt her and left her alone in the city. There’s no way she could love me.
Or forgive me.
But could she?
I’m done being a confident jerk and assuming I can have her. She should reject me. I don’t deserve her.
“Yeah?” I ask, ready to get off the call so I can overthink everything in private.
“Her friend, Lexi, is over from London, and as it turns out, she’s been working with the same software for four years. I set her up in front of my computer and she nailed it.”
Fuck.
That means Emily has no chance of getting the job. However, if her friend is staying in New York, then she might not leave.
I’ll buy a company and employ her discretely.
Or deposit cash into her account anonymously.
Jesus.
Is this how Sandy got under Jack’s skin? Fuck, I don’t know what to trust anymore. Not even myself. I’m just not made for relationships.
Mason keeps talking, distracting me with his next words.
“I hired Lexi, and she starts Monday, but fuck Sebastian, if she arrives dressed the way she was today, Jesus .” He wipes a hand over his face. “I won’t be responsible for my actions. She’s a walking fucking orgasm.”
I stifle a groan.
“Take it from me, keep your dick inside your Tom Fords. Or at the very least, don’t get engaged.”
He looks horrified for a moment, then throws his head back.
“Trust me, Lexi is the girl you fuck, not marry.” Then he runs his hand through his hair, and it sticks up on end. I zip my lips despite his earlier smart-mouthed comment to me. “But you are right. I won’t be doing either.”
He's smarter than me then.
I’m happy Mason has the help he needs, but I need to find Emily a job. Buying a company takes time. There’s no way I’m sending her to Colt and the Obsidian Club. No fucking way. I consider Obsidian Capital Partners, Drew’s company. As a finance tycoon, he’s bound to need some admin help.
“Sorry I couldn’t help,” Mason says, then his eyes narrow. “Hey, did you know it’s Emily’s birthday tomorrow?”
My eyes widen.
“No.”
My chest tightens at not being with her for her big day. The need to have her back in my life growing by the minute.
Fuck the money, fuck the business...fuck...
“The girls invited us to have a drink with them tomorrow night at a nearby bar. You okay with that?”
No.
I’m not fucking okay with that.
If she’s happy enough to invite my goddamn friends, why isn’t she messaging me and extending the invite?
What the fucking hell, Emily.
We should be together. She was my goddamn fiancée. She wore my ring...
Shit.
She should be in my fucking arms, not at some club where a bunch of losers will ...
I suck in a breath.
“Yeah, cool. Go have fun. I need to get to the gym.” I say even though it’s only three in the afternoon. “Talk later.”
I end the call before Mason can give me shit. He will have seen right through my crap, but I’m not ready to admit how I feel yet.
Not yet.
Or ever.
I’m so goddamn confused. For someone who despises the idea of marriage, I like the idea of snapping a ring back on her finger and marking her as mine, then locking her in my goddamn bedroom.
T HREE HOURS LATER, I’ve messaged my broker and liquefied a couple of billion in assets. Khalid is not going to force my hand.
If I marry, it will be because I know the woman who takes my name is the one I cannot live without.
Standing under the shower, washing away hours of sweat, I’m questioning a lot of my life choices. Including the one I’m about to make.
As I lifted weight after weight and imagined Emily sitting next to someone on her flight home, chatting away, and returning to her world, flying mile after mile away from me, I found my answer.
She’s mine.
She’s been mine from the moment she walked onto that aircraft, and I rolled my damn eyes.
Hello, I’m Emily Harper.
Not for much longer.
I turn the shower off and step out just as my phone rings.
“Colt.”
“You coming to the club tonight?” he asks, probably because I didn’t reply to their earlier text messages.
He’s calling to check on me.
“No. I have some business stuff to take care of.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then, “And tomorrow night?”
I stare in the mirror and rub a hand over my pec, feeling the shadow of Emily’s touch.
I need to do this alone.
When the time is right.
And to be one hundred percent sure.
“You should go. I like that you’ll be there to protect her.” There’s no way any of them would make a move. Like Mason said, she’s my girl.
“Or you could do that job.”
The idea of not being with her on her birthday rips at the edges of my heart, but seeing me might not be what Emily wants. There is a lot to talk about, and she deserves to have a fun night with friends.
“Colt, you ever wonder if there’s somebody you would marry? That Jack fucked up, but we’re older and wiser now?”
The impact on the four of us was immense. Sandy’s an evil piece of work. As wealthy men, we might have power, but we are still vulnerable.
The heart can be deceiving, and it takes a lot of being honest with yourself to know the difference between a true friend when you have money, and even more when it’s a woman.
I’ve seen many men fall because their dicks and ego did the decision-making.
“No. But I think you’re in love with Emily, and if someone made me feel the way it appears she does, I wouldn’t sit back and let someone else swoop on in.”
Shit, I had no idea he felt like that.
“She’s young.” I argue.
“So? Date her.”
“We were engaged. She’ll expect more.” I shake my head.
He laughs. “No, you weren’t.”
Right. Good point. But it fucking felt like it. Putting a ring on a woman’s finger? It does something to a man.
I don’t want Emily to be my girlfriend. I want her future.
“Yes, we were.”