Page 71 of Worth Every Moment
ERICA
The GIF I received from Seb this morning was a cartoon polar bear that said, ‘Hey Roomie!’ in pink capital letters. They’re so silly, but I love getting them. Sometimes, though, I find it hard to reconcile the stupid cartoon images with the sophisticated man who sends them.
Now is one of those times. He’s standing in the grand hallway of his Knightsbridge apartment, fully suited up and ready for work.Gorgeous. I’m sure half the office must be in love with him.How could they not be?The thought stirs up a bilious sensation in my stomach.
I let my gaze drift, taking in his broad chest and the sleeves of his shirt, which—thank God—are down, cufflinks in place. Tie secured at his neck. He looks every inch the businessman. Every inch…
My gaze sinks to his crotch, hovering there for the briefest of seconds, but even that is too long because when my gaze flicks up again, Seb’s there to catch it like a butterfly in a net. His lips part, dry amusement flitting through his gaze, but whatever he’s thinking of saying, he doesn’t.
“I’ve contacted the editor at the Daily Mail,” he says, glancing at all the bags and boxes I’ve had delivered to his apartment.
He’s running me through the steps he’s taken to announce our relationship and spread the word. With each item he recounts, I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s got this in hand; with any luck, public opinion about me is already shifting, but with everything he’s doing, it should change quickly. His list of contacts must be huge.
“They’re running a story on us moving in together,” he continues. “A shitty gossip piece, but we’ll have some element of creative control over it. He owes me a favour. Tatler is running a story too.”
“Tatler?”
He ruffles a hand in his hair, looking bashful for a second. “Yeah. It’s not insignificant society news.”
It’s endearing how low-key he’s trying to play it. I know Tatler would be more interested in him than me. He’s been on their list of eligible bachelors since he had his first shave. Seb Hawkston settling down is going to break a few society mothers’ hearts. It’s funny that it hadn’t occurred to me before. I’ve been so preoccupied with myself and my career, and how this—how he—could help me, that I hadn’t stopped to think of him. He’s giving up a lot to do this for me, not least regular sex.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
He picks up one of my bags and guides me to a room further down the hall. It’s large, with a huge bed, and a view over Hyde Park. “This is your room,” he announces.
I’ve been in his apartment many times, but I’ve never wandered into the rooms. I’ve always stuck to the main living areas. Maybe that’s why I feel so awkward now, as he holds the door open so I can pass into the bedroom. Being allowed into the other rooms feels like he’s offering me something intimate.
“My own room?”
He shifts his chin an inch. “Yes?”
It sounds like a question, just like mine did.I walk to the window and look out, ignoring the dangerous thrumming of my heart. I didn’t really think I’d be sharing his room, did I?
I spin to face him, and all my self-preservation skills desert me. “Won’t the staff think it’s weird if we’re sleeping separately?”
“They’ll think what I tell them to think.”
“Oh. Okay.”
His eyes narrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You want into my bedroom, Lefroy?”
An unexpected burst of laughter leaves my mouth. “Ha. No. I mean… I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought it through. But this room is great.”
“I’m glad you think so. Make yourself at home.” He drops my bag to the floor and turns to leave, but pauses and looks back. “About my bedroom… it’s off-limits.”
“Oh. Right. Roger that. No one goes into the bedroom.”
“Exactly.”
“Hence all the women in the hotels?”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and although I meant to sound like I was teasing, Seb’s smile vanishes.Crap. I wish I could let go of the idea that he’s been with so many women, but it’s hard when I haven’t been with anyone.
“Sorry.” I tug on the loose thread on my sleeve, winding it around my finger. Seb observes the motion, brows flexing as he does. It shouldn’t surprise me that he’d want privacy in his home, but for some reason, it stings. “I wouldn’t have gone into your room. I—”
“Everywhere else is fair game. What’s mine is yours.” He smiles, and at first, it looks like he’s holding back, but then it warms and I relax in its heat.
