Chapter 15
JUNO
Iwatched him pull out his phone and dial a number. He murmured something into it, too low for me to catch, then hung up with a satisfied smile.
“We’re all set,” he said.
“Set for what?”
“Lunch.”
The cab dropped us off in front of a restaurant with valet service. I glanced at Hollis. “Nothing fancy, huh?” I asked.
He grinned at me. “It’s chill. You’re going to love it.”
Hollis held the door open for me, and we stepped into a space that was somehow both intimate and grand. Exposed brick walls, warm lighting with tables spaced far enough apart that you could actually have a private conversation.
My eyes widened when I spotted a very famous celebrity casually eating a salad. And holy shit, was that a senator?
The host greeted Hollis by name. Of course he did.
“Mr. Blackwell, wonderful to see you again. Your table is ready.”
I followed them through the dining room, very aware that my nice dress suddenly felt inadequate.
Everyone here looked like they belonged.
Like they ate at places like this every day.
It wasn’t that they were dressed to the nines.
Hell, one lady had on yoga pants. It was their aura. Wealth and power radiated off them.
This was Hollis’s scene.
We were seated at a corner table with a view of the street. The host handed us menus and disappeared. I opened mine and tried not to wince at the prices. Forty-five dollars for a salad. Sixty for pasta.
“Order whatever you want,” Hollis said, not even looking at his menu. “It’s on me.”
“I know it’s on you. You invited me.” I studied the options, my stomach growling despite my irritation. “It must be nice to have the whole world handed to you at birth.”
I cringed. That had sounded bitter. I looked up, worried I’d crossed a line.
But Hollis didn’t look offended. He looked thoughtful.
“You know, you would think so,” he said slowly, setting his menu aside. “And maybe for some people it’s great. But for me? I’ve hated it. All my brothers do.”
I blinked at him. That wasn’t the response I’d expected.
“When you grow up with a name like Blackwell, everyone assumes you’ve never worked for anything.
That everything you touch turns to gold because of who your parents are, not because of anything you’ve done.
” He leaned back in his chair. “People look at me and they see the money, the connections, the opportunities. They don’t see the pressure.
The expectations. The constant need to prove you’re not just coasting on someone else’s success. ”
I set my own menu down, suddenly more interested in this conversation than food.
“That’s one of the reasons I started B Well,” he continued. “I needed to build something that was mine. Something I could point to and say, I did that. I earned that.”
I understood and respected his position. This wasn’t the cocky playboy I’d written him off as. This was someone who’d been fighting the same battles I had, just from the opposite direction.
“That actually shows character,” I admitted. “Most people in your position would just take the easy route. Live off the family name and call it a day.”
“Believe me, it would have been a lot easier.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror.”
The waiter appeared, interrupting the moment, and we ordered. I went with the pasta because screw it, if Hollis was paying I might as well enjoy it. He ordered the grilled chicken and steamed veggies.
When the waiter left, Hollis shrugged. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“Too late.” I picked up my water glass. “This lunch is now officially a pity party.”
He laughed. “Are we going to wallow? Talk about our daddy issues?”
“Not me. You.”
He grinned. “Me?”
“Yep.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. Tell me something real. Something that’s not on your Instagram.”
He considered that for a moment, his fingers drumming on the table. “I don’t know. I’m an open book.”
“You seemed pretty confident in that conference room.”
He shook his head. “I’m making it up as I go along. Hoping I don’t screw it up too badly.”
“You and everyone else in business,” I said. “That’s just called being human.”
“Yeah, well. It’s nice to hear someone else admit it.”
Our food arrived, and I took my first bite of the pasta. It was perfectly al dente, the sauce rich without being heavy. I made an involuntary sound of appreciation.
“Good?” Hollis asked, amusement clear in his voice.
“Shut up and eat your dry chicken.”
As we ate, he told me about his brothers. How competitive they all were but also how close. I told him about growing up as an only child, always feeling like I had to be perfect because there was no one else to share the burden of my parents’ expectations.
“Do you ever wish you’d done something else?” he asked. “Something completely different from what your dad does?”
I thought about it, twirling pasta around my fork. “Sometimes. But then I remember why I chose this field in the first place. I actually do care about helping people be healthier. It’s not just a job.”
“That’s how I feel about B Well,” he said.
The waiter cleared our plates and asked about dessert. I was stuffed, but Hollis ordered the chocolate mousse and two spoons.
“I can’t eat another bite,” I protested.
“Then I’ll eat it all myself. But you’re going to want to try it.”
He was right. When the mousse arrived, rich and dark and topped with fresh whipped cream, I couldn’t resist. I took a spoonful and nearly moaned.
“Told you,” he said smugly.
We shared the dessert in companionable silence. This felt almost like a date. Which was ridiculous because it absolutely wasn’t a date. This was two business associates celebrating a successful meeting.
I needed to get my head on straight. The fuzzy feeling spreading through my chest was dangerous. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. Not with him. Not when so much was riding on this partnership.
I watched as the server approached with the leather check holder, but before Hollis could reach for it, the server smiled and said, “Actually, your meal has been taken care of.”
“What?” Hollis looked as confused as I felt. “By who?”
The server gestured across the restaurant. “That gentleman and lady over there.”
I followed his gesture and my jaw literally dropped. “Is that Sebastian Blackwell?”
“Yes, ma’am. And his wife, Bernadette.”
Holy shit. Sebastian Blackwell. The Sebastian Blackwell. Fashion mogul. And former model. He was sitting there in the flesh, looking even more gorgeous than he did on the billboards he’d posed for. And he’d just paid for our lunch.
Shit. I forgot Hollis was connected to Blackwell Couture. I mean, I knew and I’ve noticed he shares some of their looks, but damn.
“Come on,” Hollis said, standing up. “Let’s go say hi.”
My palms started to sweat as we walked across the restaurant. Sebastian stood when he saw us approaching, that smile spreading across his face. He was taller than I’d expected. More commanding in person.
“Hollis!” He pulled his cousin into a brief hug, clapping him on the back. “Good to see you. I didn’t know you were going to be in the city. You should have called.”
“It was just a quick meeting,” Hollis said. “Business.”
Sebastian looked at me, and suddenly, I was a statue.
“Sebastian, Bernadette, this is Juno Young,” Hollis said. “My new business partner.”
Business partner.
“Lovely to meet you,” Bernadette said warmly. She was stunning, elegant and poised in a way that made me feel like a rumpled mess.
“You too,” I managed, then turned to Sebastian. “I’m a huge fan. The summer line was incredible.”
“Thank you.” His smile widened. “Always nice to meet someone who appreciates the work.”
I felt my face heat. I was gushing. I never gushed.
“Where’s the little guy?” Hollis asked, then turned to look at me. “Their son.”
“He’s with Mom,” Sebastian said. “She insisted on babysitting so we could have a peaceful lunch.”
“She loves fussing over him,” Bernadette said. “Gives us a chance to actually finish a conversation that doesn’t involve talking about Bluey or what cows say.”
We chatted for a few more minutes, small talk about family, about the upcoming shows they’d be holding. The whole time I was acutely aware of how close I was standing to someone as famous as Sebastian Blackwell. His presence seemed to fill the space around him.
I might have been staring a little too hard.
“We should let you get back to your meal,” Hollis said finally. “But thanks for lunch. That was really generous.”
“Of course. Family takes care of family.” Sebastian’s eyes flicked to me. “And family’s business partners. Nice to meet you, Juno. Keep this guy out of trouble for us.”
We said our goodbyes, and I managed not to make a complete fool of myself by asking for a selfie. Barely.
As we walked out of the restaurant, I was still processing the whole encounter.
The cab ride back to the hotel passed in a blur.
Hollis said something about how Sebastian and Bernadette got together when his brothers hired her to babysit him on a tropical island.
My mind was still stuck on how different Hollis’s life was from mine.
There was so much more to him than I’d thought when I first spotted him at the expo.
We walked through the hotel lobby and got into the elevator. The doors had barely closed before Hollis spoke.
“So,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. “Do you have a crush on my cousin?”
“What? No.” I felt my face flush. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You were looking at him like he was dessert. Actually, better than dessert. You didn’t look at that chocolate mousse the way you looked at Sebastian.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.” He was grinning now, clearly enjoying this. “I thought you were going to ask him to sign your chest.”
“Oh my God, shut up.” I smacked his arm. “I was just… starstruck. That’s normal. He’s famous.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious. Anyone would react that way.”
“I know you’ve never looked at me the way you looked at Sebastian,” he said, and there was something in his voice that made me glance up at him.
“Are you jealous?” I asked in surprise, eyes widening.
“No.” He paused. “Maybe.”
I stared up at him. The elevator seemed to shrink around us, the air growing thick. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could see it right through my dress.
“You shouldn’t be,” I whispered.
His eyes locked on mine. I saw the exact moment his control snapped.
He leaned down and kissed me.
His lips were surprisingly soft. One hand cupped my cheek and the other went to the back of my neck. I kissed him back and tasted the chocolate when my lips parted and his tongue slipped into my mouth. I grabbed his shoulders and held on.
It was everything I’d told myself I didn’t want. And it was perfect.
The kiss deepened, turned hungry. My back hit the elevator wall and I didn’t care. I just wanted more of this. More of him.
The elevator dinged.
I jerked back, my eyes flying open. The doors were sliding apart, revealing my floor.
I stared at him, unable to form words. My lips felt swollen. My entire body buzzed.
Hollis was staring at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hair mussed where my fingers had tangled in it.
I stumbled backward out of the elevator, my legs shaky. The doors started to close.
Our eyes met one last time through the narrowing gap. There was shock in his eyes.
Then the doors shut, and he was gone.
I stood in the hallway, my hand pressed to my mouth, my mind reeling.
What the hell had just happened?
I fumbled with my key card, finally getting the door open and practically falling into my room. I leaned back against the door, my heart still racing.
Hollis Blackwell had just kissed me.
And I’d kissed him back.
And it had been the best kiss of my entire life.
“Shit,” I whispered to the empty room. “Shit, shit, shit.”
This was bad. This was really, really bad.
I pushed off the door and started pacing. My lips still tingled. I could still taste him.
What was I supposed to do now? Pretend it hadn’t happened? Acknowledge it? Apologize?
Fuck that. I wasn’t sorry.
That was the problem. I didn’t regret it. Not even a little bit.
God, I wanted to do it again.