“George. Good to see you, too.” Sebastian’s face lit up as the two men shook hands. “This is a stunning place. I’m absolutely honored to be here.”
“I’m just so sorry Michael and Evie couldn’t make it, but I’m so glad everything is okay with the baby. Such a worry.” After wishing the Adams family well, George turned to Helen. “Look at us getting carried away before introductions are made. Apologies, my dear, I’m George Hampton.”
“And this is Helen.” Sebastian looped his arm around her and nudged her forward, like he half expected her to run away.
Helen held out her hand. “Charmed.”
Charmed?Ugh. Since when had she become a character inGone With the Wind?
“I’m the one who is charmed, my dear,” George said, a twinkle in his eye. He took her hand but rather than shake it, bowed—literally bowed—and kissed it. “I’m very pleased to meet you.” Then halfway to straightening, the older gentleman’s gaze caught on her tight nipples.
And the dirty dog kept staring.
Heat rose up Helen’s neck, fueled by the scorn rolling off Sebastian in waves.
“For sure, this is a beautiful place!” Sebastian pulled her against his side, smoothly steering George’s gaze away from her breasts. “So this is the city’s famous suspension bridge, eh? Designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel, though I read something wild about it last night—that it was actually invented by someone called Sarah Guppy and shegavethe blueprints to Brunel because—get this—she thought women shouldn’t be boastful. Can you believe it?”
George chuckled and patted Sebastian’s shoulder. “You’ve done your research.”
“This bridge has a fascinating history. It’s a real gem of a structure, too.”
Helen had to hand it to Sebastian. He could be an uptight prick, but he certainly knew how to small talk. Crossing her free arm across her chest, she leaned into him for warmth, doing her best to follow the discussion on bridge engineering until her ears pricked up at the magic wordshelp yourselves to a drink.
George Hampton went off and greeted other guests, and Sebastian led her to a table at the edge of the terrace. She reached for a glass of white wine only for him to nudge her hand toward the orange juice instead.
“You’re working, remember?” He took a juice for himself and clinked glasses with hers. “Congratulations. Your first introduction and you almost didn’t screw up.”
“It’s not my fault it’s cold. It’s almost July, for god’s sake.” She crossed one arm against her chest again and sipped her juice. “And when you said dinner party, I expected a table, a few chairs and some food, not a flipping ballroom.”
“I told you it was aformaldinner party.”
“We’re obviously from different worlds, Sebastian Clarke.” She drained her drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, remembering too late that her lips were covered in sticky pink gloss.Great. “Am I smudged now?”
“A little.” He handed her a napkin from a stack on the table and glanced around. “I think the restrooms are over there. Go freshen up and I’ll wait for you out here.”
Helen didn’t need to be told twice. Her cheap heels clattered on the stone floor as she darted toward the bathroom, wishing she was home.
Seb watched Helen scurry across the terrace. She really had no idea how hot she looked in that dress—maybe too hot for an event like this. Maybe he should’ve supervised her wardrobe, but what the hell did he know about women’s clothing? He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze traveling, unwillingly, down the deep line of her spine to her firm ass and thighs.
“My wife wore a dress like that the night we conceived our first child.”
The familiar voice had Seb groaning inside.
“I’m just saying.” Gary Grice sucked in a cheek, taking the sights in around him. “So, this is a swanky place.”
“You should be with the other members of the press.”
“You need to show me the ropes. It’s my first time at a shindig like this.”
Seb spotted Freddy by the dining tables. “Go over there and speak to the events coordinator. He’ll have a schedule for the evening. I’m due to give my speech in an hour so you’d better go grab a seat.”
But Grice, the little pain in the ass, wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere. “Do you think The Wags will give me an interview?”
Seb hadn’t known who these women were or what they did until he’d googled them today. It turned out they were close friends of Daniel Jones’s fiancée—a pop singer known simply asIsabella—and as such, had unofficially planned to attend a few Get Living events across the summer, which would’ve drawn in huge crowds and TV coverage.
But with Isabella by Dan’s bedside, The Wags had so far only accepted tonight’s glitzy invitation—and only because they were due to make an appearance at some new nightclub nearby afterward. Seb was on strict orders to treat them like royalty. Just the kind of sucky-uppy shit he hated, but he’d do whatever it took to make this campaign a success and impress Strive.
“What do you want to interview them about?” Seb asked Grice, hoping the hack brushed up his journalistic etiquette before he went anywhere near them.
