Chapter 34
BERNADETTE
Ilay in bed with the covers pulled over my head like a child hiding from monsters, except the monsters were real and they were coming from every direction.
My head still pounded. I had drunk no less than a gallon of coffee, which only upset my stomach. Cookie seemed to take pity on me and didn’t give me any shit when I went in search of food earlier. I didn’t miss all the stares directed at me as I perused my snack options.
I ended up with a sandwich, two bags of chips, and a package of cookies. What I really wanted was bacon and steak and potatoes smothered in gravy. I never ate like that, but the hangover had left my body craving fat and carbs.
I brought my booty back to the bungalow instead of sticking around and being studied like a zoo animal. No one seemed angry with me, but I knew my rise to fame and popularity had been shot to hell after the incident.
I had no idea where Sebastian was. I assumed he wasn’t in jail or kicked off the island. I was pretty sure I would have heard about that in the form of a mob at my door with pitchforks and torches.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. The thing had been unusually quiet. I thought Sebastian might text, but he’d gone radio silent. He was probably mad at me. Although it wasn’t like I had told him to punch Rico. Maybe he realized I wasn’t worth the hassle and was already in one of the model’s beds.
I almost didn’t look at my phone. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what new headache I was facing. A sense of foreboding washed over me. Maybe if I didn’t read the message, it would go away.
But I’d never been good at ignoring problems.
I allowed myself a few more minutes of blissful ignorance. Then I reached for it and discovered it was an email notification. The only way I got those was if the sender marked it urgent. That couldn’t be good.
I pulled up my email account and immediately wished I hadn’t.
Subject: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?
From: Dad
My stomach dropped.
Bernadette,
I’ve just been made aware of photographs circulating online of you “modeling” for the Blackwell campaign. MODELING. As if you’re one of their vapid little clothes hangers instead of a professional insurance representative.
The quotation marks around “modeling” felt like a slap. Like he was mocking me. Dismissing something that had actually been beautiful as something embarrassing and shameful. He made it sound like I was being frivolous and selfish.
This is beyond unprofessional. It’s embarrassing. You’re making yourself look like a stupid little girl playing dress-up, and by extension, you’re making the company look incompetent. How are we supposed to maintain objectivity when our representative is prancing around in skimpy dresses?
I scrunched up my nose. The dress was definitely not skimpy. As if I would ever wear anything skimpy. I was Buzzkill Bernadette. Boring suits and flat shoes for the lame insurance rep.
This is a clear conflict of interest. You’ve compromised the entire policy. I can’t believe you would sell me out for some pretty boy who’s probably too dumb to tie his own shoes. You’ve always been naive, but this is a new low.
Of course he had to include a threat about pulling me from the project, firing me, and then disowning me. And of course, he threatened to cancel the policy and keep the premium.
Same old shit.
Every insecurity I ever had about working for him was in that stupid, brief email. Every doubt about whether I’d earned my position or just inherited it and the constant fear I wasn’t good enough had been confirmed in one brutal email.
The empty bungalow felt suddenly suffocating. Annika had gone out, giving me space to wallow, and now I was alone with my father’s words echoing in my head.
My entire life was crashing down around me. My job. My relationship with my father. My credibility. Everything I’d worked for, everything I’d sacrificed was all imploding because I’d let myself feel something for Sebastian Blackwell.
I wanted to call my father and defend myself.
I wanted to try and explain and make him understand.
But I couldn’t. Not right now. Because if I heard his voice saying these things out loud, I’d cry.
And I promised myself years ago that I’d never cry in front of him again.
He would take advantage of my show of weakness.
He hated when I looked even a little weak.
I remembered one time he called me pitiful.
I couldn’t explain it, but that word had stuck with me.
I didn’t want to be weak or pitiful.
Instead of calling, I typed out a reply to his shitty email.
Dad,
I have a question. Why have you been so determined to void this policy? If it was such a bad deal, such a risk, why did you agree to insure them in the first place?
I hit send before I could second-guess myself.
Hiding under the blanket wasn’t going to save me from the fallout. But sugar might. I threw off the blanket and walked into the living room. I jumped and screamed when I saw Annika sitting on the couch, headphones on as she read a book.
She took off the headphones. “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“Because you were hiding. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
A knock on the door made me jump and yelp a second time in less than a minute. My poor heart couldn’t take all this stress.
“Bernadette?” It was Sebastian’s voice. “Are you in there? Are you okay?”
Annika looked at me. “Are you going to answer it?”
I looked down at my rumpled pajamas. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, trust me, honey, he does not care what you look like.”
“Bernadette?” He knocked again. “Please.”
The raw note in his voice broke through my indecision. I opened the door and felt my heart skip a beat.
Damn. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept. His hair was messy. There was thick stubble along his jaw and his eyes were bloodshot. He was still gorgeous as hell, but wow. Maybe he had spent the night in jail.
Behind me, I heard Annika get up. She walked to me, put her hand on my shoulder, and smiled. “I’m going to check on wardrobe,” she said. “Take your time. Just tell me everything later!”
She practically ran down the path.
“Can I come in?” Sebastian asked.
I stepped aside. His hands were shoved in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.
“I shouldn’t have hit him,” he said immediately. “I lost it. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Bernadette. I know I screwed everything up.”
“It’s not about Rico,” I said, my voice flat. Tired. Like a woman who felt wrung out and empty, the way something does after it’s been used up. The tank had tun dry. My soul felt hollow.
He looked at me. “Tell me.”
“It’s about you. You can’t afford to act like this. Not here. Not on this shoot. Not ever. You have too much on the line to allow yourself to freak out over something I could have dealt with.”
“He was harassing you,” he said with a growl, shoulders tensing.
“And I was handling it!” My voice rose. “I’ve been handling men like Rico my entire life.
You think this was the first time some creep tried to get me alone?
The first time someone got too handsy? I know how to take care of myself, Sebastian.
What I can’t handle is you losing control and jeopardizing everything. ”
He flinched like I’d hit him. “I was trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need you to protect me!” I threw my hands up.
“I need you to be steady. Dependable. To think before you act. My career is on the line here. This job is my life. My family. And I can’t be the woman who screws up a multi-million-dollar campaign because she got involved with a man who can’t control himself.
It’s your career as well, I might add. You risked everything because your ego couldn’t handle another guy touching me.
I think I should remind you we’re not a thing.
No one should be sacrificing their jobs for a couple nights of good sex. ”
“That’s not fair. It was great sex and you know it.”
It really had been, but I couldn’t get distracted by how insanely hot he was in bed. The physical side of things had never been the problem. It was everything outside the bedroom that tripped us up.
“My father wants to pull me from this job,” I said quietly. “And he’s probably right to. I’ve compromised everything. My objectivity. My professionalism. My credibility.”
“We can fix this,” he said.
I could hear the pain in his voice. It tugged at my heart, but I couldn’t let myself give into what I felt. I had to be logical. Practical. I needed to be the insurance robot Sebastian had accused me of being.
“Everyone knows something happened between us. You got into a fight defending my honor like some kind of medieval knight.”
“I couldn’t help myself. I just saw red.” He reached for me and I stepped back. If he touched me, I’d break. I’d give in. I’d forgive him and we’d fall back into bed and nothing would be solved.
“I think it’s best if we cool off until all this is over,” I said, forcing my emotions into a tight little ball. “You need to get through the runway show. Then we can try to pick up the pieces later. If there’s anything left to salvage.”
“Bernadette, will you please let me talk?”
I nodded. “Yes, just not right now. I’m trying to figure out how to keep your policy valid while not losing my job at the same time. Not to mention my family. My whole life is on fire, so I can’t do this right now. I can’t handle you and my father and my job all falling apart at once.”
“You want space?” he asked, eyes narrow as he looked at me.
“No, but I need it.” I shook my head. “I messed up and my life is in shambles. I literally don’t know what I’ll be flying home to in a few days, so, yeah, I need a little time to sort my stuff out.”
He looked at me like a sad puppy that just had its favorite fluffy taken away. I saw the sadness in his eyes. Hurt. Regret. Then he nodded slowly, schooling his features and collecting himself right in front of me.
The model was back. The man that could turn it on and off for the cameras was standing in front of me now.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Then I will respect your wishes.” He walked to the door, paused with his hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And if there’s any way I can help fix things, just say the word.”
Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him, and I was alone again.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, my whole body shaking.
Then I collapsed onto the couch and let myself cry.
I let it all out. I mourned the job I was probably going to lose.
I threw a little pity party over the father who never respected me.
And for the man I’d just sent away because I was too much of a mess to fight for what I wanted.
I cried for everything I had lost in the span of twenty-four hours.
Tomorrow, I would figure out how to put the pieces of my life back together.
Tonight, I grieved.