Chapter 38
Emma
I stare at Sebastian from across the chateau’s large, old-fashioned library, feeling wildly, hopelessly infatuated with the intoxicating man who made love to me all night and twice this morning.
When I was organizing Caitlin’s house today, I couldn’t help but wince every time I bent down or moved wrong. The grin she tried to hide told me she suspected why my muscles were so sore.
Sebastian met with Mancini while I worked with Caitlin, and then we met back in our room to get ready. We tried out the bathtub together. And I discovered Sebastian can be surprisingly attentive to details when he wants to be.
Dinner, a smaller table set up on the patio, was torture.
My pretend fiancé was seated next to me, so he spent the entire meal making sure I knew just how much he loved my dress, which was blue and matched my new necklace.
It was also very short. He spent the dinner with his hand on my thigh, dangerously close to my panties.
Okay. He briefly had his hand more than dangerously close during the cheese and Pinot Noir pairing. And maybe during coffee. Luckily, this was all under the tablecloth.
To distract myself from counting the minutes until we can politely decamp from after-dinner drinks in the library, I wander the room, gazing at the framed images that fill the walls.
There are movie posters from Mancini’s many films and a wide variety of photos, from set stills, smiling candids with famous people, and family pictures spanning decades.
Strong arms surround me, and lips kiss my neck.
“I can’t concentrate. When can we leave?” “Sebastian murmurs.
I groan. “It’s too small a group tonight. We can’t just leave without being noticed,” I say under my breath, glancing at the couples chatting across the room. “I’ve been calculating. I think in twenty-eight minutes we can safely leave without offending.”
“You might be mixing me up with someone who cares about offending.”
“Well, I do. I like the Mancinis and don’t want to be rude. Especially since we ran off last night.”
He grumbles but joins me at my side.
I stop next to a framed movie poster of one of Dario’s earlier films and point out a tall blonde in a slinky red dress. “Look, it’s your mother in The Tribute.”
He gazes at the photo with a frown.
I turn back to the poster. “I’ve never seen this movie. I feel like I need to. She was stunning,” I say.
He looks away.
I move on, admiring an adorable picture of Sebastian that looks like it was taken early on the set of The Family, when I hear his sucked-in breath.
I turn to see that he’s frozen in front of a picture of a smiling man and a young boy. Judging by the clothes, it looks like it was taken in the fifties, perhaps.
I look closer, trying to see what has him so transfixed, and gasp.
“Holy shit. Did you time travel? This man looks exactly like you.” I marvel.
He’s a replica of Sebastian. He has the same dark hair, aquiline bone structure, the same perfect nose and strong jaw, and the same careless smile.
He’s magnetically handsome, just like the star beside me.
Sebastian has always been just as gorgeous as the famous Blake side of his family, but they all had fair, more traditional good looks. Sebastian’s features are sharper, with stronger lines and deeper contours. Exactly like the man in the photograph.
“That’s my father in the photo,” a raspy voice says behind us.
I turn to find Mancini. He’s watching Sebastian with an intense gaze. “Our family genes are strong. Most of the Mancini men inherit those features. Though that particular gift skipped me.” He pauses. “I’ve wanted to show you this picture, my boy.”
Sebastian’s expression is guarded, grim, but his icy eyes shoot back fire. “So I guess that answers that question,” Sebastian says. “Dad.”