Chapter 17
Emma
I close my screen and lean back in my chair with an enormous sigh. I did it. I’ve almost made it through my official last day of work as Sebastian Blake’s assistant.
“Did you get the email I sent you?” I ask Matt. “You need to remind Sebastian about the invitation to the house party at Dario Mancini’s Napa estate and find out if he wants to attend. We’re already late sending in the RSVP, and it’s coming up soon, so flag it as a high priority.”
“Don’t worry. I got it,” Matt says. “That’s quite an honor.
You know what this means? The rumors must be true.
Mancini must be considering Sebastian for his next movie.
An actor getting an invite to his estate is pretty much a guarantee that he’ll star in one of his films.” He snickers.
“Porter was always salty because he never quite made the cut.”
I nod and look at my list, carefully crossing off the last item. “Okay. That’s it, then. I’m officially done,” I say.
My eyes make their way around the familiar kitchen, which has been my office for the last seven years. My heart clenches at the idea that I’ll never again sit here. Never bicker and banter with Sebastian.
He bitched at me because I was still working in the kitchen and wasn’t using the gorgeous office in the carriage house. But since I’m not staying, it didn’t seem right to settle into the new space.
Matt looks up from his laptop. “I’ll have to deal with Sebastian all on my own,” he cries in mock horror.
I laugh at his dramatic expression. I’ll miss him. Though I only got to know him in the last two weeks, he’s quickly become one of my favorite people. And he’ll be a kick-ass assistant.
“You know he isn’t that bad. And you’re more than capable of handling him.”
“That isn’t the problem. He doesn’t want me, Emma. He wants you.”
“Well, we can’t all get what we want. It’s not the worst lesson for Sebastian to learn,” I say crisply, ignoring the frisson of excitement at his words. I look at my watch. “Shit, I only have half an hour to change for the premiere.”
I eye the mountain of scripts and signed photos in front of him. “Are you sure you’re okay here? I tried to get out of going to the premiere tonight because he doesn’t really need me, but Sebastian insisted I attend with him.”
Matt grins. “As his date?”
“Not date. As his guest.” I huff out a breath. “All I know is it wasn’t easy to find a suitable dress at the last minute.”
I bite my lip at the thought of going with Sebastian to the LA premiere of the final Wanderers movie.
It will be a huge event, and I’ll be sitting with the stars.
I’ve never done that before. I’m usually only there to make sure things go smoothly and to avert any crises that might come up.
I wear what other publicists, managers, and assistants wear to those events: something nice, but not formal. This will be different.
But it’s not like I’ll be there as his date. Just as his… companion?
“You’ll have a lot of eyes on you. Sebastian’s been having me monitor his social media. And there have been really interesting comments since that photo of him carrying you out of a club,” he teases.
“Thanks for reminding me,” I say dryly. “But after tonight, all that will die down. Because I won’t be here to be photographed with Sebastian.”
Matt’s phone pings with a series of notifications. His eyes widen at whatever he reads. He looks up at me nervously.
“What?” I’m instantly on high alert despite the long day. And then it strikes me. Whatever crisis there is, it’s not my business any longer. It’s Matt’s to manage.
He must come to the same realization because he shrugs. “Uhm. Nothing. Just, uh, that cover article in Modern Man is coming out. I haven’t seen it yet, but a friend at the magazine said—”
“Oh shit. Is it bad?”
“No, not bad. Exactly.” He makes a face and seems about to tell me something.
But then he waves his hand. “Nothing for you to worry about. You better hurry. You have a lot of work to do to get ready for the premiere,” he says with a raised eyebrow, looking at me in a way that’s not exactly flattering.
I’ve been working fourteen-hour days for Sebastian and then going home and fine tuning pitch decks until the early hours of the morning. I need as many leads as I can get before I lose my regular paycheck.
Things like sleep, proper meals, and mani-pedis have been ruthlessly sacrificed.
Being caught being less than perfect puts me in a minor shame spiral. I flash back to Sebastian’s face when he first saw my apartment in all its dilapidated glory.
Normally, I’m the master of the polished facade, not letting anyone see the hustle and the grind behind it. I’m like a duck. Gliding on the surface. Treading water like crazy beneath.
And now, everything has ramped up. I have to tread water faster. There are even bigger stakes. Small businesses fail all the time. Usually, even.
That’s not an option.
Dizziness overtakes me when I stand. I grasp the desk until the room stops spinning.
“Are you okay?” Matt’s brows knit in concern.
I nod. “Yep. Just stood up too quickly.” But the truth is, the dizziness has been happening more and more over the last few weeks. The last few months, if I’m completely honest.
I make a mental note to get a checkup at the doctor when things calm down. Once my new health insurance kicks in.
Matt frowns. “You need to eat something. And drink more water.”
“I need to drink more coffee,” I joke.
Coffee. And eight hours of sleep. And I’ll be good as new.
I look at the clock. Sebastian’s suit arrived from the designer earlier today, so he’s likely changing now. I rush to the guest room to get ready.
Thirty minutes later, my hair is in a high ponytail, and press-on nails hide my ragged manicure.
My eyes look larger with a smoky shadow.
My mouth is shimmering with pale-pink gloss.
And the dress I bought earlier today at a high-end department store, skipping my lunch hour, fits me surprisingly well.
I use the word “bought” loosely because I plan on returning it.
I feel guilty. But there’s no way I could afford events like this if I didn’t get a little creative.
My go-to strategies for somewhat affordable options are usually rent-a-dress or vintage, which, for me, is a code for secondhand stores or church thrift shops in the most affluent neighborhoods.
St. Peter’s runs one in Beverly Hills that’s awash in decades-old Chanel.
But today, I didn’t have time for that.
I twirl in the mirror, admiring the dress and the way the skirt swirls around my legs. It’s fitted and strapless at the top, with a classic full skirt at the bottom. But my favorite part is the color. It’s the perfect pale shade of ballet pink.
Tonight, I get to pretend, just for a few minutes, that I’m one of the special people, not one of the minions.
I don’t have the money for proper jewelry, so I spray a light sheen of body glitter on my bare skin.
Then I tilt my head and put on a pair of diamond earrings Sebastian got me for Christmas last year.
It was a surprise because usually I buy all his gifts.
He said it was no big deal. He said he went shopping with Chase, who was buying something for Olivia, and since it was just before Christmas, he got them on impulse.
After that happened, I thought, maybe… But then he started dating Allegra. And I realized the gift was just as he said.
The random impulse of a very rich man. Generous, but an afterthought.
I brush a hand over the large, cool stones in my ears.
An afterthought. And after tonight, I’ll have to get used to not even being that.