Chapter 13
Sebastian
“I don’t see you for a little over a week and Emma quits?” Chase asks, sounding shocked. “And you stopped seeing Allegra?”
We’re seated around a large wooden table on the patio of his new house. Lemon trees and frangipani shade it on all sides. Italian tile is cool under our feet. A pergola frames the darkening night. It’s covered in twinkle lights, for fuck’s sake.
Chase James, my costar, competition for the biggest heartthrob of the decade, and closest friend, lived for years in my garden cottage, and I don’t think in all that time he bought one item of decor. Not a lamp or a pillow. There were no knickknacks. He didn’t even own a plant.
When his fiancée, Olivia, first typed her way into his world, she brought lace curtains, twinkle lights, and a lot of happiness.
Yes, they met by typewriter.
“Breaking up with Allegra isn’t what’s important.
” I wave my hand. “Emma quit,” I confirm.
“I tried to bribe her to stay. When that didn’t work, I thought if I gave her a few days, she’d cool down and change her mind.
That didn’t work either.” My heart clenches at the thought. I firm my jaw. “But I won’t accept it.”
“You can’t just not accept someone’s resignation,” Chase says with a laugh. “Especially not Emma’s.”
“She wants to stay. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Chase snorts.
“You don’t think I can convince her? I can be very convincing.”
“This isn’t the same as you getting a girl to sleep with you. Which, by the way, you don’t even have to work at. You just smirk, and they fall into bed. So you have zero wooing skills.”
“Regardless, I’d be good at it if I tried. And I’m going to woo Emma.”
“To sleep with you?” Chase asks slyly, even though he knows what I mean.
The memory of Emma on Friday night pops into my mind.
It’s been playing on repeat all weekend.
When she dragged her dress and wet bra off in annoyance.
It happened so fast I couldn’t stop her.
I tried my best not to look because ogling a drunk woman is not okay.
I shampooed her soft hair, my eyes resolutely fixed on her face, but it wasn’t possible to get her showered and toweled off while avoiding her completely.
And now I can’t forget—her breasts, surprisingly full; her nipples, tight buds; her wet skin gleaming.
And then there was that moment when she was in bed. Her lashes framed her light blue eyes, and her hair splayed out around her. I couldn’t resist brushing my lips against her forehead. And then she leaned up, her mouth almost brushing mine.
That memory was lanced onto my heart forever.
God, I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone and anything. My body has been half hard every moment since then.
It’s not as if I hadn’t noticed Emma before. Noticed her shapely legs, the way her ass curves in those tight pencil skirts she loves. How her buttons strain against her prim little blouses. And then there was that time we lived in close quarters in Australia…
But I’m a guy. It’s natural to think like that about an attractive woman I see every day, right? It’s just hormones. Biology.
I’ve been around her long enough to know that she thinks she’s a plain Jane compared to the glamorous women who populate LA, which is bullshit.
Emma has a quiet beauty, but it’s even more potent in its subtlety.
You have to pay attention. To the freckles across the bridge of her nose that she tries to cover with makeup.
Her eyes that are a swirling mix of blue and gray.
And her hair that’s not quite gold, not quite brown, but some tawny color in between.
Over the years, I’ve worked hard at blocking out any inconvenient attraction I might feel.
Beautiful women are on every street in Hollywood.
Good assistants aren’t. Brilliant ones are even more rare.
Emma is fiercely organized and competent.
And she never lets me get away with anything.
That was important in the early days, when she wasn’t just an assistant; she was a warden against my worst impulses, against my attempts to break sobriety and lose myself again in drugs and shitty friends.
What she lacked in experience, she made up for in attention to detail, endless drive not to give up until a task was done, and a killer instinct you could never teach.
So I tried to kill, or at least ignore, any attraction I might feel.
But then she upended my life by quitting. And then she upended my brain by getting smashed, stripping down to her underwear in front of me, and…
I shake my head, needing to excise the memory of what she said just before passing out. It decimated me. In every way.
“I wish… make love to me,” she whispered. “Before… I leave forever.”
And then she slipped into sleep. Her thick eyelashes hid her eyes. Her light-brown hair fanned around her. Her normal sassy mouth, soft in sleep.
All her sharp edges, soul-crushing words, and almost-kisses muted in slumber.
“Make love to me.” She took me as high as I could go. “Before… I leave forever.” And then she dropped me off the edge of the world.
I can’t take anything she said or did that night seriously, I remind myself. She was smashed. So I stuff that memory as far down as I can.
Especially since sleeping with Emma, as tempting as it is, would be the absolute worst thing I could do if I want her to stay in my life.
Sex is temporary. Relationships are uncertain, at best. Toxic, at worst. I can’t risk that with Emma.
I can’t even imagine a world where I don’t see her opposite me at my breakfast table, laughing and sparring over coffee.
Where we’re not exchanging texts back and forth all day. I need her.
As my assistant, of course. My sweet-faced, sharp-tongued assistant.
“So?” Chase prompts me again. “You went really quiet when I asked you if you planned on wooing Emma to sleep with you.” He grins.
The jerk.
“No, jackass. I don’t want to sleep with Emma,” I lie.
But it’s a necessary lie I have to tell myself over and over.
“That would fuck everything up. And for what? Just to scratch an itch? I’m not my dad, sleeping with employees.
She’s the best fucking assistant I’ve ever had. I just don’t want to lose her.”
“Sebastian, and I say this with deep love, you’ve been spoiled your whole life. Emma quit. You might have to accept it.”
“Nope. I’m doing whatever I have to do to keep her.”
I’d been a selfish prick the whole time she’s worked for me; I see that now. I didn’t realize she wasn’t happy with her job. That was my fault. But that can change.
I spent so much energy trying not to notice her. But that not-noticing apparently extended to not noticing that she wasn’t happy.
I may be a dick. But I’m a dick who learns from his mistakes. I can give her work that’s challenging. I can make her feel appreciated. Show her she’s valued.
Only… What if she freaks out about what happened—and what almost happened—two nights ago, and it makes her not want to work for me?
I can’t take that risk. So I’m going to forget everything. I absolutely have to keep my hands and lips to myself and my dick in my pants. Even now, when I know what she looks like almost naked. Especially now.
Chase leans back and takes another deep swig of his beer. He grins. “I’m not sure who I’m rooting for more. You or Emma.”
I roll my eyes. “You can root for us both. Because what I want, her working for me, is the best damn thing for her.” I groan. “What can I do, Chase? It’s Emma.”
“Maybe you just have to let her go, my friend.”
“Fuck that. It’s Emma.”
“You don’t want to take my advice. But I’m telling you that, as rich and powerful as you are, she isn’t someone who can be controlled. She knows her own mind.”
“But…”
“She’s Emma, yeah. I know.” Chase sighs. “Trying to bribe her into staying won’t work. Let her train her replacement and move on.”
And that’s when an idea hits me.
“Chase! Dude! You’re fucking brilliant. Hiring another assistant will drive her crazy because she’ll think he’s her replacement, and you know how competitive she is. She thinks she wants to leave, but she’ll hate seeing someone else doing her job.”
“That wasn’t actually my point, you dumbass. I was trying to tell you that maybe you have to accept that Emma isn’t going to work for you forever.”
“Accept that she’s leaving?” I scoff. “Fuck that.”