Chapter 28
Emma
“Don’t you have anything bigger?” Sebastian asks the small man with a large mustache standing obsequiously in front of us.
This morning had been a whirlwind. First, I packed a new bag because there was no way I was going to show up to a fancy estate party in a string bikini and leather dress.
Then Sebastian whisked me into a waiting car. He was over-the-top solicitous, worrying over my concussion despite my assurances that I felt fine. But he still didn’t let me handle a single detail. Duncan handled our bags, and Matt, I assume, handled our booking for a private plane and car.
It’s a really nice change since I’m the person who normally arranges everything.
And now here we are, standing in the back room of an upscale jeweler’s in the picture-perfect town of St. Helena in Napa Valley, with an array of the largest diamonds I’ve ever seen.
And my former boss is asking for bigger.
“Nothing but the best for my girl,” he says smoothly, wrapping an arm around my waist. My back is exposed in a navy-blue polka-dot sundress, and his fingers connecting with my naked back cause me to take a surprised breath. My skin tingles with awareness. I gulp.
The little man looks positively ecstatic at the question and goes to yet another back room. Soon, I’m trying on rings that take up half my finger.
I’m tempted to pick the largest, brightest, and most expensive of the garish stones. But instead, my gaze keep coming back to the first ring I tried on, the one that initially caught my eye, one of the ones Sebastian dismissed as being too small.
It’s an elegant emerald-cut diamond with a platinum band whimsically embellished with an etching of interlocking hearts. Despite the heft of the gem, the ring is delicate and oh-so sparkly without being over the top. I had to keep myself from gasping when I first saw it because it was so lovely.
Sebastian must catch me eyeing it with yearning because he says, “Really? That one?”
I nod.
“But it’s not the biggest.”
“But it’s the one I l-love the best.” I trip over the word love, because that’s not what this is about.
He picks up the ring and looks at it with more care. Then he runs a large finger over the delicate hearts and turns it this way and that, watching the way it catches the light.
“I can have more options flown in from Harry Winston tonight.”
I wonder why he’s putting so much thought into the choice. After all, I’ll only wear it for a few days.
“You’re going to hurt the ring’s feelings,” I say. “Or give it a size complex. An emerald cut is timeless. And the hearts make it perfect.”
“You really like it best?”
I nod. “I do.” And then I realize what I said in the presence of engagement rings. I do.
I clear my throat, hoping he didn’t notice my turn of phrase. I blurt out, “Um. What about you? Do you like it?”
“I do,” he repeats with a ghost of a smile playing on his beautiful lips.
Then he takes my hand and, without hesitation, slips the ring onto my ring finger. My heart beats so fast and hard I fear it might explode.
We look down at the ring together. It winks and blinks back at us, and I fall in love with it even more. I don’t ever want to take it off.
Which, all things considered, really is a problem. Because it’s only mine for a few days.
This moment shouldn’t feel like anything more than us pretending for a fake engagement. But it doesn’t seem like that at all.
It feels real.
Sebastian swallows audibly. “We’ll take it,” he says in a rough mumble.
A short while later, I can see for myself that the diamond is even sparklier in the sunshine.
I may have had reservations about this entire trip, but I can’t help but be buoyant.
After months, years of work, I’m on a vacation of sorts.
I’m with Sebastian. And I’ve always wanted to come to Napa.
It’s one of those picture-perfect days in Northern California, with the sky the most brilliant of blue.
St. Helena is quaint yet elegant. Chic people wander into charming stores and sip wine at cafés.
Though I admittedly miss a lot because I can’t stop staring at the ring. I’m so occupied, I almost miss the ice cream shop. But I look up just in time and stare longingly at the child coming out of the store licking what looks like the biggest chocolate cone I’ve ever seen.
“Fuck me. It’s bigger than his head,” Sebastian says in wonder that’s not entirely complimentary.
“It is,” I agree, entirely complimentary. I’m eyeing that creamy dessert with almost as much awe as I do the jewel on my finger. Almost.
He watches my face with amusement. “Do you want to go in?”
“Oh. Um,” I say. “Do we have time?”
“We will never not have time for you and ice cream.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“As long as it’s sugar-free.” he cocks a head toward the sign that advertises healthier options. “I like watching you eat it,” he murmurs.
As he pushes the door open and puts his hand on my lower back to direct me into the air-conditioned shop, I try to ignore my quickening pulse.
And then Sebastian Blake proceeds to buy me a low-sugar mint chocolate chip ice cream cone. He orders himself a small scoop of dark chocolate in a cup.
I tilt my head. “What gives? They have normal mint chip also. It looks amazing. Why didn’t you get it?”
He lets out a deep laugh. “Em. For someone so smart, how is it that you haven’t figured out that I hate mint chip? It tastes like mouthwash.”
I look at him in confusion. “But… but you have a standing order for it. You get pissed if your friends eat a carton.”
“Think. Who else in the house likes the flavor?”
My eyes widen. “You keep it stocked. For me?”
“For you. But also for me. Because it calms you down. A few bites and it’s like an injection of Valium. So I’m smart enough to have it readily available at all times.”
The world rearranges itself.
My ex-boss kept my favorite ice cream stocked in his fridge and told all his guests touch it and die. He did this for years. I know he says it was partially for his own benefit and… fair. But still.
I process this deeply confusing information as we walk around the picturesque town.
He says it’s because he doesn’t want melting ice cream on the leather of the Porsche convertible he rented, but he leads me into every store I show interest in.
Even the stationery shop where I pick out a ridiculous number of pretty pens and highlighters in vintage-toned colors. I try to pay, but he refuses to let me.
When we make it back to the Porsche, I get in, feeling more relaxed than I have in years.
I twist my hair into a quick updo to keep it from getting messed up in the convertible and wait for him to start the car, but he’s watching me intently.
“What?” I ask in confusion.
“You have a little ice cream…” He brushes the corner of my lip with one finger. Butterflies break out at the feel of his touch on my skin.
I’m undone.
He leans in, and in the slowest and most sensual of gestures, he brushes his mouth against mine. Electric tingles shoot through me. I make a small gasping sound at the sensation.
And then he licks. He freaking licks the corner of my upper lip where his finger had been.
My breath halts. My heart pounds. I’m dizzy, and this time, it’s not because of a concussion. It’s because of this magnetic man beside me, who makes all my senses go haywire with the barest whisper of a kiss.
When he finally shifts away, he’s watching my mouth, which is now in a shocked O shape.
“W—wha… Wh…?” I shake my head against the fog that’s descended. “What was that?” I ask, too surprised to mince words.
“Just tasting. I’m starting to see mint chip’s appeal,” he says with a teasingly brilliant gleam in his eye.
“Oh. Uhm. Okay.”
“Are you feeling sick?”
I shrug, embarrassed. I’m certain he’s referring to the other day.
“A gentleman wouldn’t bring that up.”
“Oh, Em, we’ve already determined that I’m no gentleman. But I’m bringing that up because it’s pertinent information.”
“Why?”
“Because. It occurred to me that we might need to practice being comfortable in intimate scenarios. Engaged people kiss. So I want to see what you’re ready for.”
“I think I’m probably okay if I keep my eyes open.”
His eyes dance. “Remember that. And maybe we need a safe word.”
I hit him. But laugh as well.
Then he turns his attention to the road and, with a capable confidence that’s supremely attractive, he smoothly drives the car out of the parking space and onto the road.
I’m left wondering what kind of relationship we have now. I don’t work for him anymore. But he wouldn’t leave my hospital room. He took up residence in my apartment. We were cuddle buddies. We’re fake engaged. We almost kissed. Twice.
And now, he’s licked me. And brought up practicing more.
Sadie would suggest, with a wicked leer, that we’re slip sliding into the territory of friends with benefits. She’d say it doesn’t have to be deep.
I smile, feeling the sun on my cheeks and the wind in my hair. I’m going to lean into whatever this is and just… feel.
There will be plenty of time to worry about the rest later.
“Holy shit. I thought I knew what rich was. But this is beyond,” I whisper in awe, looking around the great room that a butler ushered us into.
A butler, for freak’s sake.
I’ve been around movie stars for the last seven years, so I’m used to people with money and the way they live. Sebastian’s historic estate, for example, is worth tens of millions.
But this is something else entirely.
It’s as if we’ve stepped back in time, into a European noble’s house. House, I mentally scoff. Ha.
Even the words chateau or mansion don’t do it justice.
It’s all rich mahogany and vaulted ceilings that go on forever, and the largest, most dramatic staircase leading up to a landing that circles the ground floor, as if we at the bottom are actors on a stage and people could lean on the balcony from above, watching the action.
Light from floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows splashes the walls in brilliant hues and patterns.