Chapter 21
Emma
“Sebastian, I fainted. I didn’t die,” I say, lying back on a couch in some back room of the theater with an ice pack on my head. My movie-star boss is pacing back and forth.
“Stop running your hands through your hair. Antony’s going to be pissed if you ruin his style,” I grumble, wincing because it low-key hurts to talk.
He ignores my warning. “We need to call an ambulance,” he growls, looking all hot and fierce.
“I’m fine.”
Okay, maybe I’m not strictly fine. But there’s no way I’m going to be taken out of this packed event by ambulance. That would cause even more of a fuss. It’s bad enough cameras got shots of me passed out on the ground of the premiere.
God, how embarrassing.
“You heard the medic. He thinks you have a concussion and says you need to be seen by an actual doctor. We don’t know why you passed out. Do you remember fainting?”
I shift to sit up straighter, attempting to appear normal, but the world spins again. I squint in concentration and try to remember. One second, I was standing there, and the next, I was in Sebastian’s arms, his eyes stark with fear. He was talking, his mouth moving, but the memory is foggy.
I fight through the haze.
And then it all floods back with the strength and suddenness of a tidal wave. His words. His panic.
“Talk to me, baby. You hit your head. Don’t move. You need to be okay. I can’t handle it if something happens to you.”
He called me baby. He said he couldn’t handle me being hurt.
I close my eyes against the most dangerous feeling that flits through my heart. Hope. It tries to land, but I bat it far, far away. And then mentally squash it.
In those beginning years, I used to read into Sebastian’s actions, interpreting what I thought was an admiring look, a confusing comment, a shared laugh, an intimate moment passing between us as more than it was. Yes, I’d hope. I’d dream. Only to realize I was wrong.
He didn’t mean anything by his words. He was just worried, like he would be for any employee. Like he’d be for Marie. Or Matt. Well, maybe not Matt. But only because he hasn’t been working for Sebastian long enough.
I try to remember the rest. I recall lying on the cold, hard ground and trying to stay awake, though my eyes wanted to close against the faces peering down. People were arguing, insisting I go to the hospital. I tried to tell them no. That I didn’t want a fuss made.
Everything started spinning when I attempted to sit up.
That was when Sebastian swept me up in his arms and carried me through the crowd.
I knit my brow and recall begging Sebastian to tell everyone not to follow us as he made his way with unnerving accuracy into this quiet space.
I wanted the other stars of the movie to stay and distract the paparazzi so him whisking me away didn’t become some big deal.
We made it into this room, and soon after, the medics arrived.
They decided I needed further medical attention.
But ambulances are expensive. As are hospitals. The last thing I need is for a doctor bill to decimate my savings.
I saw that happen when we lived with my aunt. She’d had diabetes. And she put off paying her medical bills. The debt collectors started calling. I had to help her negotiate with the hospital, the doctors, and the insurance company.
An additional worry unlocks. Today is the last day I work for Sebastian, with my top-of-the-line insurance.
I should still be covered until the end of the month, but what if I’m wrong and my new, lesser plan, the only one I could afford, hasn’t kicked in yet?
Insurance for the self-employed is astronomical and confusing.
Hell. I definitely can’t afford the hospital.
“I just need a few minutes to rest,” I insist, trying to sound normal, though the effort makes my tongue thick and clumsy in my mouth. My head pounds.
Sebastian returns to my side on the couch. “Cut the crap. You were out for a good minute.” He clears his throat. “The scariest damn minute of my life.”
“What you need to do is get to the premiere.” I close my eyes to try to stop the nausea. “You can’t miss it. You’re contracted to attend. The studio is counting on you.”
“Fuck the studio. Ronan and Chase are covering for me. I’m not leaving you. We’re going to the hospital now.”
Closing my eyes is just making my vertigo worse. “Shit, I think I’m going to be sick,” I whimper, trying to pull away from him.
But he won’t let me go. He looks around the mostly bare room and then whips off his extremely expensive jacket and holds it like a makeshift bucket.
I stare at one spot on the wall and take deep breaths. The room gradually stops spinning.
Thank God, because if I had vomited all over Sebastian’s jacket, his new stylist would hate me even more than he already does. That thought makes me almost want to giggle.
Is this bad karma for quitting my job?
And if it is bad karma, is it mine or Sebastian’s? It’s a legitimate question since I got sick all over his car earlier. And now almost lost it on his jacket.
“Are you okay?” Sebastian smooths the hair back from my face.
He shifts so he can pull a handkerchief from his pocket. He wipes my sweating forehead gently. I try to protest because I know all about the handkerchiefs. They’re handmade and were given to him by his grandfather. He always has one at a premiere, like a talisman.
And they’re so old and delicate, they basically fall apart when they’re washed.
They’re the ones I’ve been trying to source. Before quitting, I debated pulling a bait-and-switch and asking a contact working in a historical series’ costume department to get some look-alikes made.
But now it will fall to Matt to solve the handkerchief crisis.
This is one of his last ones. And now it’s probably got my sweat and makeup all over it.
I shift, trying to fix my voluminous gown that’s crushed between us.
“Maybe crackers would settle your stomach. When was the last time you ate?”
I haven’t eaten anything since… I struggle to think. Since last night, when I’d heated up a slice of pizza at ten.
My stomach recoils. “God, no. I can’t even think of food.”
“You need to go to the hospital,” he says as he rubs my back.
“I’ll go to urgent care,” I mutter, desperately needing a mint. And a nap. “Duncan can drive me because you have to return to the premiere.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “Here’s the deal. Either I take you to the hospital, or we can go via ambulance. No matter what, you’re going. And I’ll be there with you.”
“You can’t leave.”
“We’re going now.” His voice is soft yet firm.
I want to protest. I really do. But I’m out of fight.
He pulls me up to him, and I bury my face against the soothing cotton of his shirt, the familiar, intoxicating smell of his cologne.
I’m safe and warm in his arms.
“Hey, stay awake, baby.”
“’Kay,” I say.
But I don’t.
“I wish everyone would stop being so dramatic.” I try not to wince at the pain in my head.
Daisy and Olivia sit by my bed in the surprisingly luxurious hospital room.
My friends are in armchairs surrounding me. Beyond this space, there’s a sitting room. I also have a floor-to-ceiling view of the Hollywood Hills.
Fuck me. Why is this all so fancy, and how much is this setting me back?
I can’t afford a hospital stay, let alone one in what looks like the VIP wing taken from Lifestyles of the Sick and Famous.
Sebastian checked me in when we arrived.
It would be just like him to ask for the nicest room and not to think about the cost.
“Not possible, babe. You blacked out and gave yourself a concussion,” Daisy says. “It was very dramatic. And so was the way Sebastian carried you out. A few people caught it on their cell phones. Social media thinks it’s très romantic.”
I grab the stiff pillow, cover my face, and groan into it. Then I really do wince. Because ow.
“I’m sorry. We tried to distract everyone and make it seem like business as usual.” Olivia’s expression is sympathetic. “But it’s all over the internet.”
“We wanted to follow you to the hospital. Sebastian insisted we stay,” Daisy adds.
“Because if you left, then your men would have come also. And I can’t be held responsible for the stars of the movie not attending because I got clumsy. I can only imagine the headlines if you’d left the theater. It’s bad enough Sebastian did.”
The act of getting to the hospital is a little fuzzy. One second, Sebastian carried me to a waiting car. And the next, I woke up in this bed.
“He missed the premiere and after-party for you.” Daisy’s grin is full of mischief. “And that’s big. Because he never misses a good party. He’s been here all night. It’s surprisingly sweet.”
“He’s really worried.” Olivia tilts her head. “We had to force him to leave your room to get coffee.”
“Ryder sends his love,” Daisy says. “He had to fly to New York for a charity concert. But Ronan and Chase will come by after the press junket.”
“Crap, the junket!” I cry. I forgot all about it. Today is a huge press day, followed by a fan event. “Sebastian needs to be there.”
Daisy laughs. “Hon, he’s not going anywhere. We couldn’t even convince him to go home to shower and change, even though we told him we’d be with you.”
“We wanted to come earlier, even after the premiere,” Olivia adds. “But they have strict visiting hours, so we had to wait until now. Though Sebastian seems to have gotten around the rules.”
I shrug. “You know he can talk his way into anything.”
“Have the tests come back?” Daisy plumps my pillow.
I nod. “Apparently, I have a mild concussion.”
“I’m sorry, hon. That sucks. Though I’m not surprised. You hit your head so hard. Do they know why you blacked out in the first place?” Olivia asks.
I look down, embarrassed.
“She blacked out because she doesn’t take care of herself properly.” Sebastian’s deep voice enters the room at the same time as he does.
My heart constricts. He looks so… disheveled.
His jaw is darkly stubbled, and he’s still wearing his tuxedo shirt, sans jacket, of course, and it’s rumpled to hell. There’s something stark behind the blue of his eyes. He looks uncharacteristically serious. Vulnerable, even.
Which makes no sense. I pull my thin hospital gown down so it covers my legs and shiver. I long for makeup and a nice outfit, my armor.
“What do you mean?” Olivia asks, setting her elbows on the food tray that’s next to my bed.
“She didn’t eat or drink anything all day yesterday,” he growls, bringing me back to the present conversation.
“I had coffee,” I say defensively.
Daisy pops a baby carrot left over from my lunch into her mouth, crunching it like it’s popcorn as her gaze shifts from Sebastian to me, then back to Sebastian. She passes the bowl of carrots to Olivia, who takes one.
“The doctor said you fainted from a combination of dehydration and hypoglycemia. But you’re also anemic and have low vitamin D…” My former boss ticks off my issues with his fingers. “And he said your blood glucose, A1-C levels, are borderline for prediabetes.”
I look down and worry the blanket. “Thanks for telling everyone my private medical records. I should have insisted on kicking you out when I talked to the doctor.”
He crosses his arms. “Like I’d leave. I have every right to be here.”
It’s my turn to cross my arms over my chest. “Why don’t you tell them why you think it’s your right to know my private medical diagnosis?”
Sebastian smirks. And for a moment, his stark look is replaced by one I know well, the one that hovers between arrogant man and naughty boy.
He lifts his brows and drawls, “Why, darling, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to announce it like this. Because I’m your fiancé, of course.”