Page 17 of His Obsession
“I like efficiency,” he says.
“So the last two hours was what? Foreplay?”
His composure slips for just a second before the mask locks back into place.
“I had to make sure you were up for it. You are, so the contract is yours.”
I laugh despite myself. I scan the contract, make two minor adjustments, initial them, and hand it back. He signs without hesitation.
Just like that, the gala is mine. I should feel triumphant, but I kind of feel like I’ve just survived battle. Sebastian stands too, and suddenly I’m reminded how much more physically imposing he is when we’re not sitting down. He swallows all the energy in the room, like he operates with his own gravitational pull.
It’s not until I’m back in my car that I give myself the space to process what just happened. I landed the contract, which is amazing. Now, though, I’m going to have to work with him in close quarters. I’m not entirely sure my nervous system can handle that. Too late now. I’ve committed to this, and I’m going to throw the best damn gala he’s ever seen.
When I get back to my office, Tessa stops me.
“There’s a delivery for you,” she says brightly. “Your meeting must have gone well!”
I follow her into my office, where white orchids sit in a low modern vase. My skin prickles immediately.
Sebastian didn’t send these.
Only one person would.
I feel sick.
6
SEBASTIAN
Isit at the head of the conference table in one of the smaller downtown meeting rooms, three pages of revised gala notes in front of me and a hospitality report open on my laptop. Two separate managers have spent the better part of my day explaining staffing problems that should have been solved before they reached me. Bellissimo’s audit is still turning up irritating little inconsistencies in places I don’t enjoy finding them, and Matteo texted an hour ago to say the black sedan has shown up again.
In theory, I have more important things to think about than Valentina. In practice, none of them hold my attention for long.
I sign off on one report, close the file, and call Matteo.
He answers on the second ring. “You miss me already?”
“Is it still there?”
“Good afternoon to you, too.”
“Matteo…”
He lets out a quiet chuckle. “It’s gone now. Parked too long to be random, but not long enough for anyone to pull plates.”
“That’s not accidental.”
“No.”
“What about video footage?”
“I’ve got our exterior feeds. I’m pulling street coverage from a pharmacy across from Bellissimo and a jewelry store half a block from Dolce. Their cameras are better. The hotel garage near the Beverly property too, just in case someone got curious over there.”
“Have we seen a driver?”
“Not yet,” Matteo says. “Could still be nothing.”
I’m quiet for a beat.
