Chapter 4 #2
"I pay more attention than you think," he says, moving to the black and stainless steel espresso machine.
"You drink it black when you're stressed, with cream when you're relaxed.
Never sugar unless it's flavored syrup in those fancy drinks Anya brings you sometimes.
You like caramel but hate hazelnut and chocolate.
If you feel like drinking some Frappuccino, you only have whipped cream at the bottom and not on top. How am I doing so far?"
The realization that he's been observing me for who knows how long sends a shiver down my spine. Not creepy, but ... oddly sweet and intimate. As if he's been collecting data points, building a profile of me long before our fake marriage became real.
"What else do you know about me?"
"You wear contacts, but switch to glasses when you have a headache or sometimes because you forget your eye drops, and your eyes get dry and itchy.
You like pens with those clicky things because you tend to fidget when you're thinking.
You keep granola bars in your desk because you often forget to eat lunch.
" He starts the coffee brewing, then turns to face me.
"You don't like salad but love veggies on sandwiches.
You also like fuzzy things, like the slippers you keep under your desk at work, the blanket I saw at your apartment, and the beanie you once wore while jogging with Anya. "
My mouth goes dry. "Have you been stalking me?"
"I watch what interests me." His gaze drops to my mouth. "And you've interested me for a very long time. And it's not stalking if I have a legit reason to be where you are."
Sebastian hands me a steaming mug, and I take a sip, my mind whirling at how much I haven't noticed.
I mean, I knew Sebastian liked to push my buttons, but him watching me to know those things?
Wow. No one has ever found me that interesting before, at least not interesting enough to take note of what I like and what I don't.
I follow him down the hall, Sockrates trotting beside me. The master suite is massive, with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the living area. A king-sized bed dominates the space, draped in charcoal gray linens.
Sebastian indicates a door to the right. "Bathroom's through there. I cleared half the closet for you."
Half the closet turns out to be larger than my entire bedroom at the apartment. I'm hanging up a blouse when I notice several shopping bags on a shelf.
"What are these?" I pull one down and just stare. It's from a high-end lingerie store.
Sebastian leans against the doorframe. "Just some things I thought you might like. You don't have to wear them because honestly, I'd prefer you walking around naked."
"You perv."
"Can't blame a husband for trying."
Husband. God, why does that sound so good?
I peek inside. Silk pajamas in my exact size, delicate lace bras, panties. And the weirdest thing is these are exactly what I would buy for myself.
"How do you know my size?"
He smirks. "I already told you. I pay very close attention."
My phone rings before I can process that. Anya's name flashes on the screen.
"Maddy, tell me you're not working," she says without preamble when I answer.
"I'm not. Just moving in."
"Good. Because we've fed all the stories to the media, and you need to look blissfully in love. You're on mandatory honeymoon until then."
Sebastian, who can clearly hear both sides of the conversation, plucks the phone from my hand. "She's busy for the next few days, Anya. I'm taking her to the cabin."
"What cabin?" I mouth at him.
"Perfect," Anya replies. "Romantic getaway photographs, social media updates, the works. Make it convincing."
"Won't be a problem." Sebastian ends the call and hands the phone back. "Pack for four days. We leave tomorrow morning."
"Were you planning to consult me on this cabin trip? Why am I just learning about this?"
He brushes a curl from my forehead, his touch gentler than I'd expect from hands that have broken noses in hockey fights. "I own a cabin by the lake. Private, secure. No cameras, no interviews, no pressure. Just us."
Just us. The phrase echoes in my head, thrilling and terrifying.
"The agreement was for public appearances. Not private getaways, and Anya wanted romantic photos."
Sebastian steps closer, backing me against the closet shelf. "The agreement was to make everyone believe we're madly in love. You think we can sell that without actually spending time together?"
His logic is sound. His proximity is not. I can't think straight with him this close.
"Fine, but I'm bringing work."
"No, you're not." His hands settle on my hips. "You're on your honeymoon, Mrs. Clay."
The name sends another shock through me. Mrs. Clay. Sebastian's wife. My new reality.
"This is just an arrangement," I whisper, needing to remind myself as much as him. "For appearances."
Sebastian's thumb traces my lower lip, just like this morning. "Keep telling yourself that, baby. Maybe eventually you'll believe it."
The scary part is, I'm starting to think I don't want to.