“He’s just busy.”
“So busy that he had you buy your own flowers?” She snorts. “I can’t believe I spent five hundred dollars ofyourmoney on a bouquet. A bouquet that’s only going to makehimlook good. So annoying. He should pay for his own PR.”
I pat her hand. “You know what’s at stake.” Bianca can be hotheaded, and I don’t want her to be overly antagonistic toward Sebastian, since both of them will be in my life.
“He’s getting Sebastian Jewelry for marrying you.” The subtext is clearlyhe should be grateful to you.
“And I’m getting my life back.” I smile and lay a hand on her forearm. “Look, I know what I’m doing. I promise.”
“If you’re sure. But I swear, he’s not the guy I would’ve wanted for you. I was relieved when Preston was willing and able.” Suddenly she sighs. “Sorry. I’m totallynotdefending that cheating asshole. I’m just a crappy judge of character.”
“Hey, I was fooled too.” He was slick the few times we met. All smiles and charm.
“I hope his dick falls off.”
I laugh.
“Both their dicks, actually.” She’s still fuming over Sebastian.
“And I’ll be stuck with…what?” I’m still laughing.
“I’ll buy you all the toys you need. Silicone Dream has this new line.”
Before Bianca can tell me about the cool adult toys she found, the Cullinan comes to a stop in front of Gion Shiyaki. James opens the door, extending a hand. I take it and step out. Bianca has errands to run, so he’s going to drop her off at a nearby store and return.
The waiting area past the front entrance of Gion is a gorgeous stone garden. A thin stream of water pours down into a hole in a bamboo tube, which flips, hitting the wet black rock underneath with a dull thunk as it empties the water into the garden pond. I saw one in Kyoto a few years ago—the tour guide called it a “souzu” and said the sound it makes as it slaps the rock scares wild animals away.
A lithe Asian woman in an ivory kimono with colorful butterflies on her skirt comes over with a smile. “Welcome to Gion Shiyaki. Do you have a reservation?”
“Sebastian Lasker? Party of two?”
“Oh yes. He’s here,” she says.
I let out a breath and relax a bit.
“This way.” She gestures to my right. Another lady in a pale blue kimono leads me through an elegant wooden corridor with off-white walls and wooden carvings and partitions. Many of them are decorated with bold Japanese calligraphy. The soothing sounds of Asian string instruments being plucked comes from the speakers.
Gion Shiyaki is a Japanese restaurant that opened not too long ago and is always booked. It’s considered one of the chicest places to dine in the city.
Gion doesn’t have a menu you can read and order off. It only hasomakase, which leaves the meal up to the discretion of the chef. He serves whatever his inspiration leads him, adjusting for allergies and food intolerances. You can’t dine here if you’re concerned about price or have a fear of trying something new.
When I spot Sebastian seated at a dark lacquer-wood table, I put a hand on the hostess’s arm. She turns to me, eyes curious, but I shake my head and study him for a moment.
My fiancé. Something hot and cold skitters along my spine, gathering in my chest until it’s difficult to breathe. Those two words aren’t something I’d ever thought to associate with Sebastian Lasker. Not because I don’t care for him, but because I never thought it would be possible. Paris wasn’t the only time I saw him. He came to my mother’s funeral seven years ago.
I was able to hold back my tears, but when he said, “I’m sorry for your loss,” I started to silently cry. Instead of acting awkward or annoyed, he wiped my tears away. I could tell from the way he looked at me that he didn’t remember that night in Paris. He was simply being nice to a young woman who’d just lost her mother in a Jet Ski accident.
When Roderick tried to apologize to him for my “inappropriate” behavior, he coldly said, “There’s nothing wrong with a daughter mourning her mother.”
That made more tears fall, as it seemed okay to be sad that Mom was gone—even though she’d never really been there for me—because she was the only one who showed she cared at all. But Roderick considered my grief a nuisance—though he never said so publicly—and Grandfather thought I was being overly emotional.
“You can’t wear your heart on your sleeve, Lucie,” Grandfather said with a frown. “Not if you want to lead a company like Peery Diamonds.” To this day, I wonder if my tears at Mom’s funeral factored into his ultimate decision that I needed a man to direct me. As medieval as Nesovia is, there are ways to get around its rules, if you’re willing to expend the energy and resources.
It’s too bad there’s no way for Grandfather to come back from the dead to change his will. I didn’t shed a single tear when we buried him.
Sebastian has changed quite a bit since Mom’s funeral. His muscles are thicker underneath the bespoke suit. And he’s still taller than I am—somehow, when we’re in the same space, I don’t feel like an awkward giant. He gazes at the world with a casual languor that hides the sharp edge of his personality. It hurt when he was being so mean in his office. It was all I could do to smile and act like nothing could touch me. I’ve read articles about him, and they all say he’s highly capable and intelligent. Some of the gossipier pieces praise his sense of fashion and generous nature.
But I’m certain that isn’t all. The media is all about cultivating an image. They can only report on whatever persona he’s decided to show the world.
