I click on the first link. The pictures that fill my screen are from the party, and many of them feature me and Sebastian. Some of the guests probably uploaded them on their social media accounts.
I scroll down. Maybe there are some shots here that I can save. My thumb hovers over a couple of photos of me and Gabriella. Somebody must’ve taken them when she came by to talk. She looks so gorgeous and radiant, and I appear… Well, I appear tense. It was from that headache, but my mind is already conjuring up what people will say.
Gabriella Ricci said she chose to end things with Sebastian Lasker. But would she have if it hadn’t been for Lucienne Peery?
Lucienne Peery stole Gabriella Ricci’s boyfriend and married him, and now L’s acting jealous and petty too?
Shouldn’t Lucienne Peery apologize to Gabriella?
I feel sorry for Sebastian Lasker. He could’ve done far better.
My hands grow clammy, but I try to ignore the unpleasant sensation. People always talk trash about me. So what else is new?
I scroll past the photos of me and Gabriella, then almost drop my sandwich when I see the last one. Sebastian and Gabriella, standing close, his head dipped low. They’re in the lobby of the Aylster, and there are other people around. But the angles of Sebastian and Gabriella’s bodies display the kind of intimacy that can only come from a couple who’ve been together for a while.
My good mood vanishes. I stare at the picture of Sebastian and Gabriella, studying it for clues that it was taken months ago. But no. There’s that Eldredge knot.
There must be another explanation. The paparazzi always take photos that will create the most stir. They crop and frame their subjects so that people will come to the most lurid conclusions.
It could be that Sebastian and Gabriella had a chance, innocent meeting. She could’ve just said hi, and he said hi back.
But a small voice in my heart says that if that were the case, they shouldn’t be standing so close. They shouldn’t be at a hotel, and their heads shouldn’t be together like they’re planning something clandestine.
I put my phone on the desk, screen down. My eyes fall on the framed photo Sebastian sent. Instead of soothing my jagged nerves, it only serves to stick a knife into the hot, writhing mess in my chest.
Roderick often sent Mom presents after he screwed Gwen. Or when he thought that he might get caught. Presents were his way of managing Mom. And she let the flowers and pretty little things blind her because that was easier than confronting the painful truth.
I realize I never asked Sebastian if he invited Gabriella to the party. Or if he still wants to be with her. Although I told him early on I was okay with his being with other women if he was discreet, I’m anything but okay now.
I should try to give him the benefit of the doubt. Jumping to conclusions would be unfair, especially when I know how things can be, even with photos. Unless tabloids plaster the Internet with Sebastian and Gabriella rolling around naked, I need to calm down and talk with him.
Knocks come at the door. Bianca slips through. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah,” I say, happy for the distraction. “What is it?”
Her steps are unusually heavy. She takes the seat in front of my desk that Karen occupied earlier. She can’t quite meet my eyes.
“You’re making me nervous. What happened?”
“I got an email from Chul-Su Park.” I frown, and she adds, “You know, one of our liaisons at the Hae Min Group.”
“Okay,” I say calmly, doing my best to pretend there isn’t a giant hole in my stomach. “What did he say?”
“He said they reviewed our launch proposal, and they love it.”
“Oh.” The burning sensation eases. “Well, that’s great.”
“Um… Yeah.” She licks her lips.
I brace myself. “Tell me the bad news.” It couldn’t be that terrible if they loved the proposal.
“I don’t want to upset you or anything because… God, you don’t need this, but…”
“Just tell me, Bianca,” I say, trying to get her going. When she gets nervous, she drags her feet before getting to the point. Even though she means well, it drives me crazy because it draws out the apprehension. It’s currently balled up in my throat. If she doesn’t spit it out soon, I’ll probably pass out.
“They want Gabriella Ricci as the brand ambassador for the Sebastian Peery collaboration.”
I stare at her for a moment. Nothing computes, and finally my brain gives up. “What?”
