31. Sebastian
Chapter 31
Sebastian
I 'd never slept this well in my entire life; of that, I was certain. The comfortable weight nestled against me kept me fighting against the grasp of wakefulness as I struggled to remember where I was and who was in my bed. It had been forever since I had let someone stay the night.
It took a moment for my sleep-addled mind to remember what happened and with whom. Georgia. I’d slept with Georgia, not like the sex we had for my channel but sex that…couples had. I might not have had a relationship in a while, but I knew for a fact that we agreed not to sleep together unless we were filming.
But as she lay nestled against me, her ass pressed against my rapidly thickening cock as she nuzzled back into me, I allowed myself to bury my face in her wild hair, inhaling the scents of the perfume she wore the night before.
It was perfect.
Until it wasn't.
I felt her body stiffen and Georgia sat up with a start, bringing the comforter to her breasts as she looked around the room in confusion.
"Quinn?"
Fuck.
I sat up slowly, my brain trying to keep myself calm as she seemed to be remembering what we had done the night before.
"So, that wasn't a dream?" Georgia whispered, and I could see how hard she swallowed around the question. I quickly hid the hurt that I knew was leeching onto my features as I steeled myself.
"Did you want it to be?" I dragged the question out of myself, forcing myself to look stoic despite my heart breaking in half.
Georgia ran her hand through her untamed hair. "I just…no, it was great, Quinn, really." There it was. My last name again.
"We on a last name basis again, Clark?" I tried to keep the hurt from seeping into my voice, but I’d felt the chill in her tone seeping into my bones.
The way the wince flashed across her face had my jaw steeling as I tossed the body-warmed duvet off me, trying not to feel the pang of loss from the press of her body.
"Yeah, it's fine," I whispered, my voice deep and emotionless. It was better this way; there was no reason that Geor–-that Clark would have slept with me if it hadn't been for our stupid arrangement. The one I suggested. The one that had turned me into a fucking mess of emotions and smelling the pillow where she laid her head so that I could inhale the scent of her. "I'm going to hit the shower. Brunch is in an hour."
I didn't wait to hear her response, and I purposely turned on the water as quickly as I entered so as to drown out anything she decided to say. It was louder than the roaring of the blood in my ears as I gripped the marble countertop, the cold biting through my skin to ground me as the small room heated quickly.
I breathed in through my nose and out of my mouth, a choked laugh biting past my lips so quickly I didn't even get a chance to stifle it.
Stepping into the lurid heat of the shower, I scrubbed my hands over my face as my mind raced with every possible endgame; she could tell everyone who I was. Though that was unlikely, as she was also online and attached to me, I folded that fear deep into the recesses of my mind .
Clark could stop working with me. That was the one that hurt like a gunshot through the heart, not because of the loss of income but because the thought of her not over at my apartment for dinner on Thursday made my stomach hollow like a pit. It had become something I looked forward to, something that I craved that had nothing to do with the money.
It had been there for the first time after I felt the electricity of her touch and worshiped the small sounds she made in my red-lit room as she writhed on my bed while I unwound her with my tongue, my fingers, and my cock.
I had never felt this connection with anyone. Ever. And when I finally did, it was with someone who could only stand to be around me if I was paying them. I scrubbed until the smell of Georgia Clark had been cleansed from my skin and rolled down the shower drain as quickly as it had come.
I didn't remember brushing my teeth or running the product through my dark hair. My skin was abuzz with anxiety, and static filled my ears as I went through the motions of getting dressed. The last thing I wanted was to go to this stupid fucking brunch, and my mind immediately went to different ways I could get out of it.
It was then that my phone buzzed to life, my grandfather's name lighting up the screen. The twist of anxiety intensified as I steeled myself, answering the phone robotically. "Yes, sir?"
"Where are you?" Came the heavily accented voice on the other line, my grandfather never was one for pleasantries.
“An hour east, downtown."
A humph echoed on the other line. "I need you here by this afternoon. One-thirty sharp. I have an important business opportunity, and I will be having lunch at the Saturn. Wear a suit."
The line silenced as he hung up, my grandfather's words still hanging in the air as I looked at my watch. It was 10:30. I would need to leave now to be there and ready by 1:30.
Most of me was annoyed by the way the old man had ordered me home like a petulant child, while the other part of me thanked my lucky stars. I had an excuse I didn't need to lie about. So I straightened my collar and packed my toiletry bag, rolling my used towels into the corner for housekeeping.
The cold air hit me like a freight train as I opened the door to our shared room and I swallowed hard as I saw Georgia wiping off her makeup with a wipe in the vanity mirror. God, she was fucking gorgeous. Her hair still tousled with sleep and the way my fingers had raked through them, her lips still bruised from the passion of our kiss just a few hours earlier.
Georgia paused, her mouth opening and no sound coming out, but I could tell the way her eyes had glazed slightly with nervousness and guilt that I wouldn't like the words she uttered regardless.But she swallowed and with a soft smile whispered, “Seb?—”
I didn't give her a chance to say anything else. I didn’t need some half cock apologies or that it was “her not me” bullshit.
"I have to go, work called and I'm needed back in the city." Grabbing my bag off of one of the chairs, I slung it over my shoulder. "Don't worry about last night; it's not something we need to talk about."
Her spine stiffened at my words. "Sebastian, I just need?—”
My hand lifted, cutting off her words. "You've said enough, Clark, no reason to get emotional. It was just sex." I tossed down my hotel key card. "See you around."
I was out of the door before I took a breath. If I smelled the mix of sex and her perfume in the air, there would have been no way I could leave her without saying something I would regret.
Her eyes said everything to me. It would be better for everyone if I just left. A quick text to Fletcher conveying my regret to Sarah and I was gone.
I might have disassociated the entire drive back to the city as the road stretched on for miles until I was pulling up to my apartment. It took me just a few minutes to throw on a suit and fix the cufflinks, my mind empty of anything and everything.
As I walked through the bedroom, my foot caught on one of my tripods, the camera waving precariously as I caught it on reflex. It sat in my hands, the cold metal and heavy weight of it familiar in my grip as my heart began to race. It was a burst of emotions, the same emotions I had kept bottled up for the past twenty years that welled up in my chest all at once, a wave crashed over me and the demon took hold as I took the tripod like a bat and swung it with all my might against the exposed brick wall.
Pieces of electronics, metal, and brick shrapnel rained over me as my muscles burned with the force of my repeated swings. By the time my sanity kicked in, my hands were shaking with adrenaline, and my eyes were burning with unshed tears; the completely busted camera barely held on to the tripod by a silver screw.
My chest was heaving as I dropped the tripod and allowed it to clatter across the floor; my shoes crunched over its remains as I slammed my bedroom door, wiping what I told myself was sweat off of my face as I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.
The cold outside cleared my head, and by the time I made it to the restaurant, the shaking in my hands was barely noticeable.
"Ah, there he is!" I heard my booming grandfather's voice as I entered The Saturn; the sleek black and white marble of the place showed, even though it was nestled between an old bank and parking lot, the long hallway to enter it dimly lit by uplighting, leading the way to the large dining area.
Pasting on a tight smile, I shook my grandfather's hand and turned to his business associate, a salt and peppered man with skin that looked like it had barely seen the sun.
“James Erkharst of Erkharst Earnings Group," he said, grasping my hand in a tight hold. I squeezed back just as hard, not at all intimidated by his obvious power trip. "Your grandfather has told me a lot about you."
"All good things, I hope," I replied, going along with every textbook nicety as we sat, even as my senses heightened. Sure, I was in one of the fanciest, most expensive restaurants in the city, but I might have well been in the Den of Lions because that was what these people were—predators, picking off the working class until there was nothing bones. Yelling about how they picked themselves up from nothing as they stepped over the broken backs of their laborers.
I knew that because that was my grandfather and his friends. And this man? From the watch sitting on his wrist, which cost what the American household usually made in a year, to the stupid haircut that I swore only the rich would flaunt. Money couldn't buy taste…or a hairline.
"So, tell me about Erkharst Earnings,” I asked politely, nodding my thanks to the waiter as he poured water into my glass. James leaned forward with a smile on his face and said, "We have heard great things about some of the real estate in the area. Your grandfather is a member of the same country club, so I obviously knew of his reputation. While most of the deal has been settled out of office, your grandfather told me how eager you are to make a name for yourself in the real estate industry. I've seen how you've handled your smaller accounts, and I'm impressed."
I shot a look to my grandfather as he chewed his salad, his eyes darting between me and Erkharst. "I want you to take this account, Sebastian; you're ready." The older man handed me a leather portfolio, and as I flipped it open my mouth dried as I looked at more zeros than I could have imagined on a commercial real estate contract. Looking, I saw my grandfather smiling behind his whiskey glass while James folded his hand and watched me with vested interest as I flipped through the paperwork.
"This is a large account," I muttered, trying to calm my racing heart. "How many buildings are you looking to buy?"
"Technically, it's a strip—six business fronts all together."
My eyebrows knit together as I turned to the map, taking in the highlighted areas. "I'm assuming you know what you want here—" I paused, my eyes scanning over the map, blinking twice to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing.
James smiled, his teeth unnervingly white. "Yes, I'm planning on developing it. I have many interested parties.
Ignoring the man, I turned to my grandfather. "You own this building already; you have businesses here that have been tenants for well over twenty years."
My grandfather waved his hand in dismissal. "It was the first commercial building I purchased; I am not sentimental when it comes to an increase in profitability." He pointed at James with a grin. "Mr. Erkharst here is very ambitious, and this neighborhood is up and coming. There have been so many hedge-fund puppets sniffing around those residential areas that it’s better if I sell now. Besides, I already leveed a rent increase a few months ago."
My blood ran cold as reality sunk in. There was no way those businesses were affording such an increase; I got the 1099's and looked over their profit and loss statements. They were barely treading water as it was.
“Charles, I thought Fletcher was supposed to get this account?” I managed, leaning forward a bit even though Erkharst was barely paying attention to us as he leered at the hostess.
My grandfather shrugged. “Fletcher is a good worker, but this is for you. It’s time for you to prove yourself, Quinn.”
"Enough business, let's eat!" Erkharst clapped his hands together as the waiter brought out a tray, and my grandfather’s thick fingers snatched away the portfolio
"This is a good opportunity for you, Sebastian. You saw the commission percentage. Don't let me down, eh?" The chicken dish tasted like ash in my mouth as I chewed, emoting at the right times, though James and my grandfather spoke like I wasn't there most of the time.
That building wasn’t just a strip of commercial space; it included The Grind. It included Hemingway's.