"By Bart? You're not the only one who notices things around here." I smile.
His eyes hold mine.
"Relax," I sigh as I put my head back onto the headrest. "I need a fucking ally around here. Your secrets are safe with me. I’ve got enough of my own shit going on to worry about you and Bart."
He smiles, as if relieved.
I sigh. "What happens on these trips away, anyway? Tell me everything."
It's 6:00 p.m., and I’m exhausted.
How in the hell is Sebastian doing this. He has constantly been switched on, and when I say on, I mean in the spotlight, being interviewed since 8:00 a.m. He did the press conference this morning, then we drove the three hours down to Wales. He opened the hospital, spoke at a luncheon, did another press conference, and then he visited a school.
He hasn’t looked at me once.
Not once.
And I know because I've been watching him all day.
I also know how this is going to go. I'm going to be pining over him now, being all pathetic and remembering how his body felt inside mine. I'm actually glad he's not looking at me; I really am.
But seriously… not even a glance? I mean, fuck me.
Did I completely imagine Saturday night?
We've just arrived at our hotel now. Taylah, Sebastian's PA, is handing out the keys. She came early and organized a group check-in for everyone.
The foyer is grand and large. It's like an old castle that has been done up into a swanky hotel. The bar is off to the left of the foyer and has a large open fire and warm furnishings with deep red carpet. It's beautiful, like something in a magazine.
One by one, everyone gets their keys and heads into the bar. I get to Taylah, and she digs through her bundle of keys and reads from her folder.
"Hello, April." She hands me my key. "Level six, room 212. Your luggage will be taken straight up by concierge."
"Thanks." I take it from her.
"Dinner is down here in the restaurant, pretty much straight away. Let me know if you need anything."
"Okay, great."
I need to go to the bathroom and freshen up. I'm tired as hell. I'm going to sneak up to my room and have a quick shower and a cup of tea first.
Hell, room service sounds good, actually. This political shit is tiring.
I take the lift up to level six and walk down the large corridor. Exotic, antique art hangs on the walls, and I smile to myself.
"Wow," I whisper.
I open the door to find an oversized, four-poster bed made from dark wood sitting in the middle of the room. "Beautiful." I walk in, put my handbag down, and I look around.
There’s a huge bathroom made from cream marble. I pull the drapes back and stare out at the street below. There are little lanterns lighting up the street, and it feels like this is from a fairy tale book or something.
"Wow. I love this place."
I flick the kettle on and strip off to take a hot shower. I will go back downstairs in a bit, if only to eat.
Once out of the shower, I wrap myself up in the hotel’s white robe and I make myself a cup of tea. Three nights spent in this place is going to be a dream. I turn the television on and flick through the channels when I hear a knock coming from somewhere.
I walk over and put my ear to the back of the door.
I hear a knock again, but it's not coming from here. It must be someone knocking on someone else's door down the corridor.
Hmm, I walk back and sit down only to hear the knock again.
Wait, it’s coming from the connecting door in my room that I didn’t notice before.
I walk over to it, and there’s a knock again.
"Hello?" I call through it.
"Hello." I hear a deep voice. "Open the door,"
Huh?
I turn the lock and open the door to see Sebastian standing there.
I frown. "What are you doing?"
"Knocking on your door. What does it look like? Yes, I know," he mutters dryly as he walks past me and into my room. "Connecting rooms. What a coincidence."
He's wearing a black dinner suit, ready for his night out. He's freshly showered, God, he smells good.
My eyes widen. "You organized connecting rooms?" I whisper, looking around.
"You don’t have to whisper; nobody can hear us. We're the only ones from our party on this floor."
"Oh my God, Sebastian."
"How else am I going to get to talk to you?"
I stare at him, lost for words. "Are you for real?" I whisper again.
"Stop whispering."
I put my hands over my face. "This looks so bad."
"Nobody fucking cares." He sits on my bed. "Sit down." He gestures to my chair.
"What?"
"Sit down. I have to go out, and I want to talk to you for five minutes before I go."