Page 78 of Shattered Crown
The hotel would be in good hands.
His arm tightened around my waist. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment, then found mine.
He smiled. Slow and sleepy and so unlike the Sebastian I'd known in New York that it made my chest ache.
"Didn't know you were such a creep," he murmured. "Watching me sleep."
I smacked his chest. "You're the one in my room. By definition, that makes you the creep."
He pulled me closer and kissed me. Soft. Unhurried. Like we had all the time in the world, like today wasn't the day everything might change.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. "Good morning."
"Good morning."
He held my gaze for a moment longer, something unreadable in his eyes. Then he rolled away, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing in one fluid motion.
Completely naked.
I yelped and threw a pillow at him. "Put something on!"
He caught the pillow without turning around, tossing it back onto the bed. "You've seen this plenty of times. Get used to it."
"I will never get used to you walking around like that."
"Your loss." But he pulled on his pants, then his shirt, buttoning it with practiced efficiency. He turned back to me, fully dressed now, looking every inch the billionaire businessman he was. The transformation was jarring. SoftSebastian was gone, replaced by the man I'd met in that principal's office a lifetime ago.
"I should go get ready," he said. "For the meeting tonight."
I nodded. "Me, too."
He crossed back to the bed, leaned down, and kissed me again. Longer this time. His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone.
"See you later," he said against my lips.
"See you."
Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, and I was alone with the growing daylight and the weight of what was coming.
I let myself have one moment. Just one. Lying there in sheets that smelled like him, wondering what our lives would look like after today. Would we still have this? Would the bubble survive the return to reality?
We'd figure it out in New York. That's what we'd said.
I pushed the thoughts away and got out of bed.
The morning disappeared into preparation. I showered, dressed in comfortable clothes, and spread my notes across the desk. Called Priya to go over the research she'd compiled. Practiced my pitch until the words felt natural, until I could recite the numbers and projections and preservation plans without looking at my notes.
By noon, I was ready.
I changed into something more impressive. A cream silk blouse, tailored navy pants, gold earrings that had belonged to my grandmother. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw someone who belonged here. Someone who deserved this hotel.
The walk to Mr. Kahale's study felt longer than usual. My heels clicked against the tile, echoing in the quiet hallway. The photographs on the walls watched me pass, all those frozen moments of the hotel's history.
The door was open. I stepped inside.
Mr. Kahale sat behind his desk, hands folded, his dark eyes finding mine immediately. He looked tired today. Older than he had when I'd first arrived.
"Miss Kealoha." He gestured to one of the chairs across from him. "Please, sit."
