How the hell does Sebastian announce to the world that Theodore is now dead when he’s been assuring them that he was fine?
I drag my hand down my face. God, this is a fucking nightmare.
I feel guilty for leaving Bart alone in this when he needs me most. Maybe I’ll work behind the scenes for him this week.
The plane comes to a stop, and Sebastian stands and fusses around in the overhead. He retrieves his suit bag and goes to the bathroom to freshen up. When he returns, his thick, black hair is neat, his suit is crisp, and his beautiful face is grim.
He’s ready for business.
There are two versions of Mr. Garcia: the one the world knows. The hard ass, workaholic who has a secret penchant for high class hookers. Then there’s my Seb. The loving man who makes me feel like the most beautiful woman on Earth.
I hate that the world doesn’t get to see the real him, but I know that this is how he is.
Guarded.
I smile softly, hoping that he can feel my affection for him. He has the worst week coming up, and nobody can help him through it. He and he alone will face the press. It is his voice that everyone will turn to for guidance in such uncertain times.
The doors are opened, and the cabin crew and pilot shake Sebastian’s hand as they stand by the door.
“Thank you.” He nods.
I smile and follow him down the stairs, hanging back a little, unsure where I am supposed to be. Sebastian stops and turns back. He holds his hand out to me.
I frown at him. He wants to be seen together? He’s usually so private.
“Are you coming?” he asks, hand outstretched.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I take his hand, and my heart begins to hammer. This is it. The announcement of our relationship.
The doorman opens the door, and we walk into the airport.
Cameras flash. People run.
“Mr. Garcia, is it true that the Prime Minister is dead?” someone calls.
Sebastian exhales and pulls me along quickly.
“Is this your new wife, Mr. Garcia? Have you been on a honeymoon?”
Sebastian rolls his lips, unimpressed as we march along.
“What is your name, Miss?” Someone yells. “What does your ex-wife think of your new girlfriend?”
What?
Sebastian stops and turns back to the man who called it out. He glares at him. The man takes a step back, unsure of the consequences. Sebastian’s chest rises and falls, and I know it’s taking all his strength not to smack the man in the mouth. I give Sebastian’s hand a subtle tug, and he turns back to me. We start walking toward the exit to where our car is waiting.
“When are you having a press conference?” someone calls.
We walk out through the front doors, cameras still flashing. We arrive at the waiting black car.
God, this really is horrendous.
I drag my hand through my hair. What must I look like?
Sebastian opens the back door of the SUV, and I slide in. He closes the door behind me.
What?
I peer out of the tinted windows to see that he is doing, speaking with the photographers. His face is angry, and whatever he is saying, they are all taking notes.
He turns and gets into the car beside me. He slams the door.
“Drive!” he orders.
“Yes, sir.”
The car pulls out into the street.
I turn and look out the rear window to see the camera flashes disappearing into the distance.
I turn back to the face forward, my heart still hammering in my chest.
I glance over to see Sebastian’s elbow resting on the car door, his hand on his temple. He’s staring out at the passing traffic, miles away.
Poor Theodore.
Good morning babe.
Wishing you luck for today xoxo
A text bounce’s back from him.
Missed you this morning.
I didn’t want to wake you.
Call you later.
Love you
xo
I smile. Love you. Two little words that mean so much. I get up and shower, make my way downstairs, and I turn on the television.
I make myself some coffee and toast, and then I hear the headline on the news.
“A press conference has been called by Sebastian Garcia and is scheduled for today at 11:00 a. m. Mr. Garcia, who flew in from the Maldives last night with his partner April Bennet, is in damage control amidst allegations that the Prime Minister has passed away.”
I stare at the television. There’s footage of us walking hand in hand out of the airport last night, and people firing questions at Sebastian.
I drop to the couch. Shit.
My phone beeps with a text. It’s Jeremy.
Oh my God, we need to have lunch today.
I have so much to tell you.
My God, we do. I have so much to tell him. I spoke to him only briefly last week. He was still waiting for the blood tests to see if Bart had been drugged or not. I wonder what the hell is going on with those two. I reply:
Sounds great.
I smile and wave when I arrive at the restaurant.
Jeremy is sitting at the back with two cups of coffee already on the table.
“Hello, gorgeous.” He smiles broadly.
I kiss his cheek. “Hello. It’s so good to see you.” I sit down. “Is this my coffee?”
“Yes.” He winks. “Just as you like it, although I would have preferred wine. I took the liberty of ordering us lunch. I knew you would have to get back.”
I reach over and takes his hand in mine. “Oh my God, what’s happening? Every time I call you, Bart is there and you can’t speak?”
Jeremy rolls his eyes in an over exaggerated way. “That fucking bitch drugged him and set him up with those hookers.”
“Who?” I screw up my face.
“His wife.”
“Why, though?”
“To break us up. She’s had her suspicions about us for a while now. He hasn’t been sleeping with her so she’s presuming that he’s sleeping with me.”
I sit back, not buying it for a second. “But she’s still married to him. Wouldn’t that mean that he cheated on her as well?”
“Look.” He sips his coffee. “I know how this must look from the outside, but his drug tests came back, and he definitely had Rohypnol in his system.”
“The test was positive?” I frown, surprised.
“Yes.”
I stare at him. “That means Sebastian was drugged, too.”
“Well, thankfully, the security guard got him home safe.”
“Hmm.” My mind goes into overdrive. “Why do you think it was Bart’s wife?”
“Only she would organize female hookers. Anyone else who was trying to hurt him would have known his taste was toward men.”
“True.”
“And she called me in the morning, saying that she hadn’t been able to contact him, asking me if I could go to his room to check if he was okay.”
I narrow my eyes. “What a bitch.
“Anyway, I don’t care.” He smiles sarcastically. “She put her own nail in the coffin. He’s left her for good now.”
I blow into my coffee. “So, he’s moved in with you?”
“No.” He shrugs. “Thinks we should live apart for a while. Date and get back to trusting each other.”
I frown. “That’s weird.”
“I know.” He looks around. “I keep feeling like there is another part to this story.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is something else going on with him, but I just can’t for the life of me…” His face falls as he stares at something across the restaurant.
I look over to where he is looking. “What is it?”
“Look who’s in town,” he whispers, anger oozing out of his every pore.
I frown as I look back over to where he is staring. “Who?”
“Nicolas Anastas.”
“Who’s that?”
“See the two men sitting near the bar?”
I look over to see two men. One, a gorgeous European man, and the other with curly brown hair. “Which one?”
“The Greek god.”
“Oh.” I smile as I stare over at him. “Perfect analogy. He is, isn’t he? Who’s he?”
“He’s a psychologist, and an acclaimed author. He’s also loaded and quite famous. He’s American. Lived in London for a couple of years a while back, and he and Bart became good friends. Bart’s his solicitor.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Hmm.”
“It was him who first made Bart question his sexuality.”
“What?”
“He told me that whenever he was with Nicolas, he found himself aroused and dreaming of them having sex together. He thought about him all the time.”
My eyes widen in horror. “Bart told you that?”
“This was long before we got together, but…”
“You think Bart and Nicolas have reconnected?”
“Well, if he’s back in town, I know they definitely will have seen each other. He only comes to London to see Bart.”