Mr Garcia

It’s a fucking mess. Who knew celebrities were such nightmares.

This job is exhausting. I’ve been away all week, and now this. I had to duck out and get us something to eat before we both fainted.

I pay my bill and take a seat as I wait for my order.

I'm not sure what's going on this weekend, or what’s going on with Sebastian.

After he kissed me goodbye yesterday morning, I haven’t seen or heard from him. And I'm not asking or calling him. The ball is now in his court. If he wants this, he has to pursue it.

I've made it quite clear where I stand. Maybe a little too well.

At the tender age of thirty-one, I'm done with playing games.

Sebastian Garcia lights me up more than any other man ever has… even my ex-husband, and that’s saying something because at the time, I thought he was the bee’s knees. I've been going over Sebastian's excuse over what happened all those years ago, and looking back at it from his side, I get it.

He had to stand by Brandon. He did the right thing. Even though I got stomped on in the process, what kind of father would he have been if he put a woman before his son? Someone he had known for all of two weeks.

The fact that he put his son—not even his son, but another man's child that he took on—before himself says a lot about his character. There's a lot to like about Sebastian Garcia.

His work ethic, his stance on policies, his intelligence.

His body.

His words come back to me:

There's nothing more intoxicating than the scent of the woman you want.

The woman he wants. Wouldn’t that be something? I smile to myself, feeling bashful over how intense our lovemaking was. To say it was incredible would be an understatement.

"Your order is up," the waitress calls to me.

"Thanks." I stand and glance across the restaurant, stopping dead in my tracks.

I sit down immediately so that I'm not seen.

Helena is sitting at a table in the back of the restaurant with Gerhard.

Two of Sebastian’s biggest threats… together.

Fuck.

What are they doing?

I lift my phone and pretend to take a selfie. Instead, I snap a picture of the two of them together.

I find Sebastian and Bart’s names in my phone and send the picture to them, with the caption:

We have a problem.

16

April

My phone immediately rings, and the name Sebastian lights up the screen.

"Hi," I answer.

"Where are you?"

"In a café in Brixton."

"How do you know who she is?”

“She came into my office once.” I stammer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because of client confidentiality I couldn’t, but now that I work for you….”

“What the fuck is she doing with him?"

My eyes roam over to the two of them talking. "That’s what I'd like to know."

"Keep an eye on them."

"I can't." I drop my head. "They can't see me."

"Are you in the café now?"

"Yes."

"Go out and watch from across the road or something. See if they leave together."

"Okay."

He hangs up, and I raise my eyebrows. "Goodbye, Sebastian," I mouth to myself.

He's obviously distracted, I guess I would be too if I had an evil ex-wife like her.

I collect my order and walk out and cross the street. Damn it, I just want to eat my toasted sandwich while it's hot. I tuck the brown paper bags into my handbag and carry the two coffees by hand. I walk into a dress shop across the street. It has huge windows so I can watch through them.

Holy crap, have I missed them?

How long can I pretend to look in these shops for? There are only four opposite the café, and I have been in them all, while staring through the windows.

It's been nearly an hour. Did they leave already? I've been watching like a hawk, and I haven’t seen anything. What if there was another exit?

Shit.

I can't go back over there in case they are still there and they see me. I also can't leave in case I miss them.

Fuck’s sake, what do I do?

I take out my phone and scroll through my numbers. I really don’t want to call Sebastian, so I call Bart instead.

"Hey, what's happening?"

"They haven’t come out." I look up just in time to see Helena at the till. "Never mind, I see them." I hang up and stand behind the clothes rack.

Helena pays the bill. They walk out onto the street and talk for a moment, and then they shake hands and go their separate ways. I narrow my eyes in contempt. That bitch.

It’s a business transaction.

It's Saturday morning, I’m walking out of the gym with a spring in my step. I've just done a boxing class and worked my ass off. Now, I’m about to drop by the grocery shop and pick up some supplies for the upcoming week.

We go away again on Monday and, quite frankly, I can't wait.