“The race starts at 3 p.m.,” Sebastian said, even though the plan was already ingrained in Helen’s brain. “We’ll have a few hours together to mingle in between my teaching and demo sessions, so just keep close by. And remember, the press will be among the crowds, including our friend Grice, so—”
“Yeah, I know. Watch what I say and do.” Helen recalled Grice’s chivalry last week in taking the blame for her smashed glass. “Do you still think he’s working for Sucroz?”
“I’d have thought he’d write something bad about me—or us—by now, but I’ve trawled the news here and back home and there’s been nothing.” Sebastian looked out to sea. “Not even that photo he took of us at the hotel has been published, and nothing about the inaugural dinner either.”
Helen frowned. “Maybe it’s true that all he wants is to carve out a career in journalism.”
“Or maybe he’s biding his time, waiting for a bigger scoop until the British public know who I am.”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Helen nibbled on another chip, her appetite waning. Would her association with Jaxon—a man who had his own entry on the NCA’s most wanted web page, photograph included—be considered a bigger scoop?
“Sebastian, about my community service—”
“It’s okay, Helen. What’s done is done.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I admit I panicked at first, but other than a few photographs here and there, you won’t be in the public eye. The spotlight won’t ever be on you.”
“That’s a relief.” Enjoying the evening too much to let talk of Jaxon ruin it, Helen pushed the whole mess out of her mind. Despite what Nazir and the NCA thought, Jaxon wouldn’t contact her again. He was gone, out of her life for good. He’d find some other fool to write his code, and the chances of anyone finding out that she’d ever worked for him were zero to slim.
And she didn’t want to get Sebastian all riled up and anxious the night before his big day.
Missing the easy banter between them, she took another chip. “Admit you like salt and grease.”
“Never.” Sebastian popped several more chips into his mouth, his boyish grin doing funny things to her insides. He looked happy and relaxed, like he had last Saturday when he’d written his schedule on her calendar.
Indeed, order and organization pleased Sebastian Clarke.
Not being told his fake girlfriend had once worked with a known cybercriminal.
Chapter 16
Thetidewasoutagain in Weston-super-Mare the next morning. At the entrance of the Get Living enclosure, Seb scanned the wide seafront sidewalk. He’d had a good time yesterday with Helen, but with another glance at his wrist watch—ten forty-five—unease prickled.
Helen was late.
“You keep looking at the time.” Brenda scrolled through her phone beside him. “Is something wrong?”
“Nope.” Seb turned back to the road. Cars slowed to park along the seafront. Traffic stewards in high-visibility vests patrolled. Families had started to arrive for their day at the beach.
Where the hell was she?
When he’d left the cottage this morning at seven, Helen had been mucking out her chickens, wearing thick boots, shorts, and an oversized T-shirt. She’d given him no indication she was eventhinkingabout getting ready for today’s event. Couldn’t she at least have been washing her hair or asking his opinion on what to wear instead of shoveling poop into a bucket?
Seb inhaled a lungful of salty sea air through his nose, expelled through his mouth. All right, Helen wasn’t quite late,yet. He was due on stage at eleven-thirty and he’d asked her to arrive by eleven. She still had fifteen minutes to go, but she did say she’d be here by ten-thirty so that technically made her behind schedule. Seb inhaled again. Exhaled. Why hadn’t he insisted she come with him this morning? Why had he trusted her?
Relax, dude.
It didn’t matter if Helen didn’t come today, not really. His girlfriend’s presence at tonight’s post-event dinner was far more important. But if Helen didn’t turn up now, or if she thought she could just rock up whenever she felt like it, how would that bode for the rest of the summer? Would he need to keep reminding her about the money he was paying her to make her fall in-line? She listened when money was involved. It was all she cared about. Would he have to impose financial penalties every time he needed her to buckle up and pay attention?
Disappointment churned his gut. He didn’t want to be that regimented a-hole again, enforcing the law, telling her every five minutes to stop screwing up. Were they really back to square one?
“When will Helen be here?” Brenda asked.
“She’ll be along in a minute.” Seb smiled.Everything’s awesome. “Her brother is driving her.”
The one thing to hang on to.
