A smattering of caution pushed its way through her foggy brain. If that journalist downstairs published images of Sebastian Clarke and his “girlfriend,” what would the media then make of that girlfriend completely disappearing? What would happen if someone recognized her and told the world she wasn’t called Cassie?
And what would the backlash be on the Get Living Campaign? Would it be discredited? Oh, lord, Helen didn’t want the responsibility of messing it up for all those people who took it seriously and relied on the money the events raised.
“Hey.” Sebastian waved his hand in front of her face. “Where did you go?”
Helen blinked. “I was just wondering … I don’t suppose you have any control over what that guy downstairs writes about you, do you?”
“Nope.” Sebastian stood next to her by the window, and she caught a whiff of his woodsy scent again. “But hopefully he’ll write something decent.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Sebastian shrugged, a trace of uncertainty in his eyes. “The best practice is to ignore it and move on.”
“He looked slimy.”
“Yeah, I got that impression too, but what could he possibly say about us? That we’re dating? That’s the whole point of you being here.”
The intensity of his gaze on the side of her face had Helen studying those seagulls again.
“Only three people on this entire planet know about our arrangement,” he continued. “I won’t tell anyone, and I know Jimmy wouldn’t either.” Sebastian was smiling quite pleasantly—very pleasantly, in fact. His blue eyes twinkling with charm and self-assurance, but the warning was clear.
“I won’t tell anyone either. I promise.” She locked eyes with him, but her words clearly weren’t enough. She lowered her gaze to the contract he held in his hands.
“Would you mind signing this before we go?” he asked.
Helen took it from him, inhaling sharply. “Sebastian, a funny thing happened today when we met. I—”
The knock on the door startled her. Her heart thudded in her ears, just as it had done the night she’d been busted breaking in to Jaxon’s place. She instinctively looked for somewhere to run as if hotel security, DC Nazir, and the entire police force were about to burst through.
“Seb? It’s me, Mikey.”
Oblivious to her anxiety, Sebastian left Helen’s side and flung the door open. “Hey, come on in.”
Helen’s jaw dropped at the sight of the well-known and impressively built man standing in the doorway.
Michael Adams—theMichael Adams.
Olympic legend. Humanitarian. Charity campaigner. All round saint.
And now the blockage to her only exit.
Chapter 4
“YoumustbeCassie.”Michael Adams held out his hand, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “We’re so glad you could join us for dinner tonight.”
His large hand gripped around hers, and Helen only had a second to register her starstruck state before a small, and very pregnant, woman walked in behind him. A toddler held her hand and twin girls, about four or five years old, dressed in matching red dresses ambled behind her, until they spotted Sebastian and squealed with delight.
They ran and wrapped themselves around his legs, their high-pitched emissions drilling into Helen’s wine-sore head. She took a step back from the cozy group but came up short against the heavy black suitcase and almost toppled off her heels.
Sebastian scooped up the twins and settled one on each hip. “You two are seriously hideous-looking children. I gotta dump you somewhere.” They screamed as he dropped them on the bed and tickled them, their little legs and arms flailing like a pair of beetles stuck on their backs.
Despite herself, Helen couldn’t help but smile, and it was only when the pregnant woman spoke that she realized not all eyes were on Sebastian.
“It’s nice to meet you, Cassie,” the woman said. “I’m Evie.”
“Hi.” Helen shook her hand and, noting Evie’s English accent, recalled something she’d once heard about Michael Adams moving from Vancouver to settle in London with her. Helen’s gaze drifted to Evie’s huge belly. “The food’s good here, huh?”
Evie laughed and rubbed her baby bump. “It really is. And as me and the children were getting hungry, would you mind if we bring our dinner plans forward?”
