“You never mention your family.”
His question sucked me out of my thoughts. My hand stopped abruptly from reaching for the champagne glass, my gaze sliding up to his. “My mother died in labor and my father passed away six years ago. There’s no one left.” Sipping the champagne slowly, I hid my unease in the glass. His scrutiny though, remained on me.
“That must be difficult,” he said, brushing my cheek tenderly.
I pulled away, too unsettled to meet his perceptive eyes. My gaze slid to the window. “I’m used to it.”
“Is that why you chose medicine? Because of your mother?”
The reflection of the streetlights sparkled off the Jet D’Eau. “I suppose…I don’t care to look at it too closely,” I admitted. “Let the dead bury the dead.”
Even though it was a soft murmur, spoken more to myself, he must have heard me because his gaze grew startling in its intensity, the meaning of which, I couldn’t even begin to fathom.
We started with a course of marinated sea bass, fleur de sel, combawa, with an infusion of spider crab and Indian verbena. The aroma floating up from the artistic presentation made my mouth water and my stomach grumble. Sebastian’s eyes were focused on me as I savored every bite. It made me terribly self-conscious.
“Is Marianne not feeding you enough?”
I blanched. “What do you mean?”
“I heard your stomach growling.”
“She’s been nothing but kind and generous. It’s me. My metabolism is in overdrive all the time. I can’t keep weight on.”
“I want you eating more. Promise me.”
“I’ll try.”
“Promise me or I’ll speak to her myself.”
Worry ripped through me. “No, please don’t. I promise.”
When the main course of Dublin prawns rolled in kadaïf arrived, I scrambled to change the subject. By now, I’d learned that arguing won me nothing and only caused him to entrench more firmly.
“Do you like what you do? Running the bank, that is.” For a moment, he looked confused. “Hasn’t anyone ever asked you that before?”
“Actually––no,” he answered, mild amusement in his voice. He gathered his thoughts before adding, “I don’t know if I would say I love running the bank. It’s the game, I love.”
“The game?” He poured me another glass of champagne. I savored every rich swallow, the delicious vintage making me loose and easy.
“Trading is a zero sum game,” he explained. “There’s no gray area. Someone wins, someone else loses.” An aggressive glint sparked in his eyes.
“How did you get into it?”
“I started as an energy trader. I told you my mother’s family is in the oil business.” He shrugged casually. “The rush is addicting.”
“It wasn’t about the money?”
“Money is just the scorecard. The rush comes from winning. And trust me more people lose than win. Anyway, I was always expected to take over the bank.” This was a side of him I rarely saw, unless he was barking orders or swearing at one of his people on the phone. I was separated from that part of his life––the real part.
“Do you still trade?”
“No. I have too much responsibility. Keeping an eye on my guys handling the billion dollar portfolios is a full time job.”
I tried to act blasé at the figure but failed miserably. “Billion?”
“Multi-billion,” he corrected, his mouth curving into a roguish smile. He was so cocky, so sure of himself when it came to his work.
This was exactly why I didn’t want to leave the safety of the estate. There, I could pretend we were just two people desperately attracted to each other. Here, I was faced with the uncomfortable truth that we were worlds apart. The word imposter kept popping up in my mind. His brows pinched together when he realized what my mind was chewing on. Grabbing my hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed the palm. “Don’t do that. Don’t pull away. It’s just money.”
A dry laugh surged up my throat. “Says the billionaire. Rich people are the only one’s to ever call it just money.”
“It means nothing between us. And I won’t apologize for it. You’ll learn to live with it.”
It was so easy for him to let his imagination run wild, to consider the possibilities. He didn’t have a clue what I was hiding. I didn’t have that luxury. And I would do anything to keep him from discovering the truth.
“I don’t have to learn to live with anything. The only place we belong together is in your bed. And when it’s over, you’ll go back to your world, and I’ll stay in mine.”
His eyes were intense, burning with pent up emotion, and his breathing had quickened. He was struggling to control himself. “Are you done?”
“Yes.”
He signaled for the check. “We have somewhere to be.”
Jean picked up the pace when he realized the air hanging around the table had suddenly turned frigid. Once the bill was paid, Sebastian pulled me out of the restaurant. The tension surrounding him was palpable. I knew something was coming. As soon as we hit the street, he dragged me into a dark alley, around the corner, and pushed me up against the side of a building. Before I could take a breath, he grasped my face and his mouth came crashing down in a brutal kiss.