I work diligentlyfor the rest of the day, thankful to have something to keep me busy so I don’t overthink everything that’s happened between Sebastian and me and worry about the state of my heart when we part in just a few days.
There’s a lot to do. I decide there should be several phases to the project. Caitlin doesn’t want to move into a hotel because she leaves in less than a week, so I need to tame the mess to make the charming, ivy-covered two-story house livable for the interim. And then, there will be phase two of the project while she’s ontour. I’ll collaborate with Sadie to turn this place into a home suitable for a rock goddess. Also, seeing the way Caitlin lives, I need to make sure the design and organization work with her chaotic tendencies. It has to be intuitive and simple to maintain. And then I’ll find the perfect assistant who will keep up with her creative brain and night-owl life.
I’m in my element. I’ve already developed a system for contracts and pricing, so even that part isn’t as intimidating as it might be.
By the time we wrap things up at 6:30 p.m., we’ve made tremendous progress. Despite the boxes, the house is now much more orderly, and I’ve unpacked and put away her essentials so she can spend a comfortable night, find everything easily, and isn’t tripping over her belongings.
“I can’t thank you enough, Emma. You’re amazing.” Caitlin scans her far neater surroundings with obvious relief. “But the best part? You didn’t judge me at all. In fact, you like that I’m a disaster.” She gives me a hug.
I smile warmly. “Honestly, the more mess, the better. Maybe that should be my slogan.”
“It has a certain ring to it,” she says as she walks me out of her house. Then she tilts her head and shifts her gaze. Her eyes twinkle. “Someone looks determined.”
Sebastian strides up the pathway. He engulfs me in a hug, laying a possessive kiss on my lips. I almost swoon.
“Are you okay? Are you tired?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.” I turn to my new client. “I apologize for his boorish manners. Sebastian, say hi to Caitlin.”
He looks at her with a smile. “Hey. Sorry. It’s good to see you again.” He turns back to me. “You’ve been gone all day. You were only supposed to take a meeting.”
“Says the man I used to work seven days a week for.”
“That wasn’t often. And only if you consider work hanging out on set with me, keeping me from being bored out of my mind.”
“I mean, yes. I consider that work. A lot of work. Copious work.”
Caitlin’s gaze volleys back and forth between the two of us. She gives a soft little sigh. “Maybe my wife and I would have lasted if she cared even half as much about me.”
I open my mouth to correct her assumption and then realize I can’t. So instead, I give her an awkward smile.
She shoots a pointed glance at my ring and then turns to Sebastian. “I’ve been admiring Emma’s ring all day. You did well. I recognize the design. It’s one of Mallory Kalama’s Heart series, isn’t it?” She smiles. “You lucky girl. It’s incredibly rare. He must have some serious contacts to get that for you.”
“Oh!” I say, surprised. My eyes widen as I see my beautiful ring in a new light. It was my favorite of all the designs I was offered yesterday. But it was also the least ostentatious, so I’d hoped it wasn’t too expensive. Though Caitlin has too much class to say outright that the ring is worth a fortune, I can read her admiring glances at my finger.
Sebastian doesn’t look bothered by either the value of the ring or the disclosure. Instead, he takes my hand, traces the hearts, and gazes into my eyes, making my stomach feel wobbly. “I’m the lucky one,” he says. “So fucking lucky.” And then he brushes my cheek with the sweetest of kisses.
My heart fills with aching warmth. I hate how susceptible I am to his words, when they are likely for Caitlin’s benefit.
The ring might be fake, and the engagement might be fake.
But we feel all too real.
CHAPTER 36
Emma
We havedinner on the edge of the vineyard, a long table set up that seems to go on forever, covered in pristine white tablecloths, gold-rimmed china, and the most delicate of stemware.
Sebastian is seated across the table, and his possessive stare has been on me all night. Maybe it’s because I’m rocking my sleeveless shift dress with a black lace overlay. It’s somehow both summery and romantically Gothic, like if Tory Burch and Alexander McQueen had a dress baby.
The woman to my right is engrossed in a conversation about art. But the man to my left, a finance guy from San Francisco who is full of himself, has been entertaining me with flirty stories. Sebastian ignores the people on either side of him and has spent the evening watching us intently.
Flustered, I lean toward him and whisper, “Stop. Staring.”
“Then stop being so worth staring at,” he growls.
I huff out a breath and shift back in my chair. The man to my left reaches a hand behind me and kneads my bare shoulders. Ishift, but he takes it as encouragement and runs a palm farther down my back, moving perilously close to my ass.
