A flicker of hurt flashed across her face. He was being a dick, dangling money in front of her, but how else could he ensure she’d stick to her side of the deal? Damn right, too, that he’d make her sign the contract. If she was going to spout bullshit about theirrelationship, he needed to make sure she’d be around to follow through—and pay the consequences if she didn’t.
“I was trying to help you.” Helen snatched the pen off the desk. “You were lost for words back there. I thought I was doing you a favor.”
“Yeah, well …” Seb felt like an even bigger dick now. Shehadsaved his ass, but listening to her tell Brenda about her crime just now—and having to pretend he already knew the details—had left him too fucking angry at the whole situation to admit she was right.
But seriously?
Your boss owes you money so you break into his apartment to steal it?
What rational thinking human being would do that?
Really, Sebastian, if you wanted to improve your image, couldn’t you have dated an intellectual rather than a common criminal?
Yeah, Mom, that had been the plan.
Seb ground his teeth, waiting for that common criminal to fill in her personal details on the salary form. When she put her pen down, he took the sheet from her and slowly made out her messy handwriting for her address. “Mendip Hill? Where’s that?”
“It’s about forty-five minutes away, near Cheddar,” she said. “You know, where they make the cheese?”
“I’ll look it up later. Where’s your car?”
“I don’t have one. I’m getting the bus home.”
No car?Awesome. That gave him a whole load of new logistics to figure out, but right now, he had more immediate concerns. Seb took in Helen’s fuzzy ponytail and ratty clothes; frayed jeans that had seen better days hung loose around her slim waist, and her T-shirt, though black, had faded patches across the front and several tiny holes on the sleeves and collar. Maybe the moth-eaten look was in trend where she hung out, but not where they’d be going tonight.
“You need to get cleaned up.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a rental car at the hotel, but a ninety-minute round trip plus preparation time will make us late for dinner.”
“My bus leaves in twenty minutes. I can meet you later.”
“No offense, but I’m not letting you out of my sight untilafterdinner.” He countersigned the contract and passed her a copy, tucking his inside his jacket. Later, he’d take photos of the paperwork and email it to his lawyer and accountant. “We’re going shopping.”
“Where to?” Helen asked.
“How the hell am I supposed to know? You’re the native.”
“Okay, Broadmead is the best bet, but I must warn you, I don’t know much about the latest fashions.”
“No shit.”
Helen stiffened. “What did you expect me to wear today? An Armani suit and high heels?” The “asshole” she didn’t hiss at the end of that sentence came through loud and clear. “You do realize that no one will believe you even like me, let alone love me, if you keep acting this way? You’ll ruin your own stupid plan if you’re not careful.”
“My plan was to date Cassie. It’s already ruined.”
But, man, she was right again.He had to shake this dickheadery off before they pretended to love each other in front of a hundred guests.
“Okay, Hobbs, let’s go. The clock’s ticking.”
Chapter 9
Whatdidthegirlfriendof an Olympic swimmer wear to a dinner party?
Helen riffled through the clothes racks. Liz would know, and so would Emma, but now she’d signed Sebastian’s damned contract, she couldn’t call to ask without them bombarding her with a million questions she couldn’t answer—especially as said Olympian was currently standing next to her, looking bored, impatient and extremely pissed off.
She’d tried to lighten his mood after the confrontation with Brenda, but that dark cloud was still hanging over his head, and during the twenty-minute walk down to Broadmead, which he’d spent explaining each clause of the contract—referring many,manytimes to clause one; confidentiality—Helen swore she could hear thunder and lightning.
“And don’t think for one moment I won’t follow through if you’re in breach, even if it takes years in court,” he’d warned. This meant if she caused a scandal, she’d have to pay himdamages. She’d have to not only refund any money he paid her—which she’d already mentally spent three times over—but also any loss of earnings he might suffer due to something she’d done.
Anal-retentive Sebastian Clarke had it all sewn up, which left Helen to figure out how and what she’d tell Tom and Emma about this charade. They’d smell bullshit straightaway—Liz would too. Helen hadn’t dated since she’d had to put her already crappy social life on hold to nurse Ada, and they knew she didn’t have the female wiles to attract a larger-than-life man like Sebastian Clarke. He was far too uptight for her liking anyway, and telling them she’d been hired as a personal assistant would be the joke of the century.
