His future was in Vancouver. And in under ten minutes’ time—when he’d be in the midst of his contract-renewal meeting with Strive—that future would hopefully be looking more financially secure.
Sitting back at his desk, Seb checked his email to steady his nerves, then logged on to the virtual meeting room.
The head of global operations, Lutz Voigt, greeted him and, once the usual pleasantries were dispensed, got down to business.
“Sebastian.” Lutz clasped his hands, placing them firmly on the glass-topped desk in front of him and … paused.
Seb held his breath.
“We’ve heard good things,” Lutz continued, nodding appreciatively. “We’ve spoken to both Michael Adams and Brenda Ellis. They’re extremely happy with the Get Living Campaign in the UK. We all are, and we understand your behavior has been exemplary—as we would expect. We’ve therefore taken the decision to renew your contract.”
Seb expelled the breath he’d been holding for what felt like weeks, resisting the unprofessional urge to fist pump the air. “Thank you, Lutz,” he said steadily. “You know I won’t let you down again.”
“You certainly won’t. Any more bad publicity—of any kind—will result in immediate termination.”
“Yes, sir, I am fully aware of that. You won’t need to worry.” Seb thanked Lutz and the rest of the board, and as soon as he logged off, reached for his phone to text Helen.
Wait—what?
He lowered his phone, somewhat stunned that she’d be the first person he’d chosen to tell.
But she was a friend, right?
He brought up her number, began typing when—
How did it go?
He stared at Helen’s text message. Their thoughts must’ve crossed in cyberspace and Seb’s chest tugged tight that she’d remembered his meeting. He texted her the outcome, then grinned when he read her reply.
I know exactly how we can celebrate …
Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.
Seb stared at the huge wooden sign bolted to the tall wrought-iron gates in front of him. “Thisis how you wanna celebrate? By breaking the law?”
Helen waved him off. “It’s not technically trespassing if I live on the estate.” She scampered halfway up a tree and expertly pulled herself up onto the ivy-covered wall. “Anyway, no one will find out and I have a key, remember?” She patted her shorts pocket where’d he’d seen her place the key to Pendlebury Manor. A key he’d naively assumed allowed them access to the actual gate, rather than having to climb over a ten-foot-high wall. “Now, pass up that picnic bag and let’s eat before it gets dark.”
Seb tossed it up to her, then did some scampering of his own. Once on the wall, he noted how Helen used the thicker branches of ivy that grew into the brickwork to climb down the other side and copied her route down.
Helen tugged his arm. “A lovely evening to dine on the terrace, don’t you think, Lord Clarke?”
“You’re crazy.”
Seb shook his head as she led him through the trees. She’d been so excited when he’d gotten back to the cottage that she’d even said no to the celebratory sex he’d assumed she’d been referring to in her text.
“Wow,” he’d said then, his hand on her forehead checking her temperature, “you feeling okay?”
She’d swatted him away, slung him a backpack containing food and vaulted over the fence into the apple fields. “Now, don’t freak out, but I have a surprise for you.”
And what a surprise!
Even if they weren’t allowed to be here, it was a beautiful evening to explore an English country estate. As the trees cleared and Pendlebury Manor came into view, Seb stepped onto a movie set of vintage Britain. Grasshoppers jumped out of their path as they walked through a knee-high meadow. Butterflies flittered past, dancing between an array of wildflowers. Birds sang in the trees and—
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Deer?
“Shh. You’ll scare them away.”
