CHAPTER TEN
SEBASTIAN
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“W hat the fuck do you mean they’re pulling their funding?” I yell as Victor pushes the door closed in my office the next day. “Leave it open!”
The only people on the executive floor are my senior team...and Emily.
Emily.
Jesus. The girl I had “sexual relations” with on the flight back to New York. What a colossal mistake that was.
Of all the people on the planet, I finger-fucked my new PA.
She can’t stay working here.
Clearly.
Julie will need to replace her, but I don’t have the mental capacity to come up with a good reason why Emily isn’t suitable.
She is.
She’s been doing a great job so far.
Right now, I don’t care. I’ve just been told that five hundred million dollars have just slipped through my fingers, and the Crown Plaza development is at risk of falling over, figuratively, if I don’t fix this.
Victor crosses his arms. “I got a message from Rashid who said the money transfer is on hold.”
A cold chill runs down my spine.
“Did you ask why?”
Victor nods, and if I’m not mistaken, he looks fucking happy about this. Uncrossing his arms, he walks to the sofa and sits. I watch as he manspreads and leans his arm along the back of the sofa, tapping his fingers.
Why is he annoying me so much lately?
“You were seen. With his daughter,” Victor announces.
I see red.
“I wasn’t with his fucking daughter! She grabbed my cock.”
Victor shrugs. “They’re Middle Eastern. It’s a culture thing.
You know Khalid is more westernized than most due to being educated in the United States.
It’s why he wants his daughters involved in the business.
But Rashid said the sheikh is upset you took advantage of, and I quote, your American ways. ”
Fuck me.
“Excuse me? It’s not American to fuck a business partner's daughter.” I walk around my desk and run a hand through my dark hair. “Did you tell Rashid what happened?”
“Fuck no, Sebastian. That would have made it worse. Accusing Al-Mansour’s daughter of molesting you? Christ.”
Good point.
“So what? I should’ve let her jerk me off and stayed quiet?”
“Not the conversation I thought I was walking into,” Brandon, my chief legal officer, laughs. His smile fades when he catches my expression. “What’s happened?”
“Khalid has pulled his funding,” I mutter.
He attempts to put two and two together. “You fucked his daughter?”
Christ.
I may not be married, and yes, I’ve had my fair share of women, but by no means am I the local Manhattan playboy. That title was previously held by Fletcher and Hunter Dufort before meeting their wives.
Now, it’s probably Colt, one of my best friends.
“No, I didn’t fuck his daughter.” I snap. “She...”
My eyes dart to the open door. The last thing I need is Emily overhearing this. Why? Because I don’t want her to think I was with anyone else? Or to legally protect myself?
The question surprises me.
It’s not like we are in a relationship.
Quite the opposite.
I need Emily out of my life. If I glance at her damn breasts one more time, I’m going to slap myself.
Here I was warning her not to be unprofessional, but she’s been nothing but. While I drift off during meetings, watching her sit primly like the perfect English PA in her tight fucking dresses, taking notes.
Every man’s wet dream.
“One of Khalid’s daughters grabbed my dick under the table during dinner. I moved her hand immediately but was seen, and the action misconstrued.” I tell Brandon. “That’s it. That’s all that happened. I don’t even know her name.”
He curses.
I turn to Victor. “We need to fix this.”
He threads his fingers into a steeple and leans his elbows on his knees. “You’ll need to apologize.”
Brandon almost has an aneurysm. “No, he’s fucking not. That’s an admission of guilt. Sebastian, do not apologize.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Victor sits back against the cushions and throws out his hands. “Then what do you recommend?”
We both turn our attention to Brandon as I slide my hands into my pockets and rest my ass on my desk.
He takes his damn time, pacing the room and staring out at the city. It’s getting darker outside, now late in the day.
“We need to prove reasonable doubt. That there’s no way you’d even consider doing such a thing. Sebastian has a good relationship with him, so it’s more about saving face here. Whoever witnessed the action must have been mistaken.”
“That’s the plan?”
“Yes. You can’t just rock up and say, I didn’t do it. We have to lead them to that conclusion themselves.”
Shit, he’s right.
But how the hell do we do that?
“It would be easier if you were married.” He continues thinking out loud.
No thanks.
I keep my thoughts to myself because telling Jack’s story is not something I do. Not ever. Even sharing my thoughts on marriage and seeing how my sister cried almost made me kill the father of her children.
I protect those I love.
Catherine might be my big sister, but she still belongs to me.
I can’t imagine trusting or loving a woman the same way I do my family or friends. Sandy did that. The world around me has just reinforced it. So, I’ve simply decided I won’t do it.
“But he’s not. His marital status is well-known here and around the world. Single billionaire, blah, blah.”
That’s true. I’m photographed with the occasional woman who the media speculates I’m dating. But it never goes further than that because I don’t date.
And I’m never marrying.
“Next idea.” I glance back at Brandon.
“A man in love would never cheat, and that’s what we would have to portray.”
I laugh because the idea of me being in love with someone and convincing everyone is a joke.
“Half a billion dollars, Sebastian. Are you going to pull that out of your ass?” Brandon shakes his head. “You know how much is invested in this.”
“Of course, I fucking do.” I stand. “My entire reputation. Two billion of our own funds.”
It’s the biggest development we have ever undertaken. It crosses two blocks and will change the way thousands of people live and work in Hell’s Kitchen.
The entire industry is watching.
“Calm down, boys.” Victor smirks.
I watch Brandon narrow his eyes for a moment in reaction. It’s not just me. Victor’s being a jerk.
I wonder if he’s job hunting and suddenly hope he is.
Losing my CFO at a crucial time would be a nightmare, but he has to give me three months’ notice. I’d deal with it.
“It’s a good idea in theory, but I’m not in love, Brandon. That’s not something you can fake.” I round my desk and pick up my phone.
We’re fucked.
“Invite them to the US. Ask for the opportunity to rectify the situation and introduce Khalid to your fiancée. He won’t decline. It will be considered rude. And I suspect he will be intrigued.”
As am I.
Who the fuck am I marrying?
Brandon crosses his arms. “Try it. Then we will find you a bride.”
I glance at Victor.
“Half a billion dollars,” he reminds me.
Shit.
What a fucking disaster.
When they leave, I’m almost certain I won’t buy into this insane plan. I start thinking about who else will fund the project. I’ll need to clear my calendar if I’m going to do that.
I head out to Emily’s desk.
She purposely doesn’t look at me, but I still notice the red skirt and the black blouse with puffy sleeves. It’s feminine and showcases her sexy curves. The same curves I’ve been trying for almost two days to ignore.
The semi I’m walking around with is proof of my failure.
I’ve been communicating via email with her, sending tasks that I don’t need to keep her busy and out of my office. Yet she strides in with her chin high, plonks things on my desk, and then spins on her heels and walks out.
I told her she can stay, but there’s no way I can spend every working day with an erection. Someone is bound to notice it.
“Get Khalid Al-Mansour on the phone for me within the hour.” I tell her, then glance down at the pain meds on her desk and frown. “Are you sick?”
“What?” Her eyes snap to me, then down at the drugs. “Oh. No, sir.”
She’s lying.
I don’t like the idea that she’s unwell or in pain. But I do like the sound of her calling me sir.
“Do you need to go home?”
“No, Mr. Remington.”
Jesus.
My cock thickens, pressing against my briefs.
This is exactly the reason why Emily can’t work here. My mind immediately has her under my desk, sucking my thick shaft, calling me sir as my come drips down over her silky blouse.
It wouldn’t end there.
I’d want her up on my desk, legs spread so I could lick her pink pussy until she’s gasping for air.
God, imagine working a vibrator inside her while I send emails.
Fuck me.
I spin and walk back into my office. “Fine.”
T WENTY MINUTES LATER , Emily leans into my office.
“Sheikh Al-Mansour is on the line for you. Sir.”
“Thank you.” I glance up, ignoring her last comment.
I swear she knows it drives me crazy.
Narrowing my gaze at her silhouette as she stands in the doorway, I sit straighter. Christ, she’s going to distract half the men in this office dressed like that.
Surely I can fire her for that.
“Emily, button up your damn blouse.” I order.
Her eyes drop, then snap back up, confused.
“What?” Emily fiddles with her button. “This is the top button. I’m not showing anything.”
Oh yes, she is.
It’s unacceptable. I won’t have men perving at her or...this kind of thing in my workplace.
You are grasping at straws.
I stand. “I can see your breasts.”
“You mean my cleavage.”
Fuck.
“No, you can’t. You can barely see anything. Oh my god, Sebastian, I am not having this conversation.”
It’s the first time she’s used my first name since Monday, and I like hearing it.
Emily’s cheeks turn deep pink, and the need to touch her is overwhelming. I can’t stop my feet from crossing the room, and before I know it, I’m standing in front of her.
“Tomorrow you need to wear something more appropriate.”
Her eyes flare in anger up at me, and Jesus fucking Christ, I want to tug her into my office, press her against the wall and kiss the red gloss off her lips.
“While you are at it, no red lips.”
She props her hands on her hips. “Where in the dress code does it say that?”
“We’re updating it.”
I’m going to email HR and have it updated tonight.
Urgently.
“Then I am not in breach right now,” she replies. “If you hate me being here so much, won’t don’t you just fire me, Sebastian?”
Emily spins and strides back to her desk.
Goddamn that woman. The only reason I don’t follow is that my phone rings and I realize I’ve kept Khalid waiting.
“Khalid,” I say smoothly, as if my cock is not hard as granite and aching to fuck my personal assistant.
“Sebastian. How is New York?” He asks in his deep accent, as if he hasn’t just reneged on a half-billion-dollar deal.
I settle back into my leather chair, spin around and stare out at The Big Apple, ready to play the game. The back and forth of business negotiations where everyone bullshits each other.
“It’s still cold, but spring will be here soon. How long has it been since you were here?”
“Too long,” he admits.
We are not strangers. The sheikh has invested in other projects and profited greatly. During previous conversations, he’s shared how much he enjoyed his time living in the United States while attending Brown.
“Why not fly over? We’re holding an event to raise money for charity,” I tell him.
Brandon’s idea is crazy, but he’s right.
Proving there is reasonable doubt that I would touch another woman may get him interested in funding the Crown Plaza project once more.
“My fiancée and I would be honored if you were our guest.”
What the fuck am I doing?
“Fiancée,” Khalid says, and I hear the disbelief in his voice.
“Yes.”
My team could put together a charity event in a week, but I’m not sure I can pull a fiancée out of my ass in that time.
I’m rich.
I’m healthy.
I’m handsome...quoted from Forbes...and a long list of women would marry me for my status in New York’s social scene alone.
But to go along with this ruse without some kind of consequence down the line?
No. I wouldn’t trust any of them.
“Who is this secret woman?”
“You know how it is for men in our positions, Khalid. We’ve kept the relationship private until now and relishing the last moments before our engagement is announced.”
God, I’m good at this.
I need to be careful. He’s not a man that you can easily fool. He’s smart and sharp as a knife.
I’m going to kick Brandon’s ass.
There are so many things that can go wrong between now and the event.
“Well, now I’m curious and have been wanting to visit the United States. So yes, I accept your invitation.”
He shares that he will travel with Rashid and a few other members of his team, arriving Sunday, and that his assistant will reach out to mine.
“I look forward to meeting your future wife.”
Shit.
I have until Sunday to find a bride.
A FTER STARING AT the wall for half an hour, I open my email and send Emily a message. I’m not going out there again now that my cock has finally settled down.
Dear Emily,
Please contact the Dufort Hotel and book the top penthouse suite for Khalid and his team.
Thanks,
Sebastian
She replies about ten minutes later.
Dear Sebastian,
The booking has been made, and I emailed the sheikh’s team. They replied asking for the name of your fiancée...
Emily
Oh shit.