I smile over at him in surprise, we both knew that I wanted a child, but I didn’t know he did too.
He rolls over toward me, and he runs his hand up over my arm. "I don't want you taking the pill anymore. I want to try and start our family straight away." He leans in and kisses me, his lips brush tenderly against mine, "What do you think?"
I smile and run my fingers through his thick black stubble, "I think we should get to baby-making activities, right now."
He chuckles and rolls me onto my back, and he spreads my legs with his knee. "Already on it."
We walk down the stairs of the plane and onto the tarmac. The honeymoon is over.
Sebastian takes my hand in his, and we walk through to the airport. Photographers are here waiting. Bart released a photo of the two of us yesterday to the press announcing our marriage, and Sebastian wanted to get this over with.
This is their photo op. The quicker they get the first photo of us as husband and wife, the quicker they leave us alone.
Cameras flash, people cry out our names, and Sebastian whisk me through the airport and into the back of the waiting car. It's a flurry of activity, and the door shuts behind us, and he turns to me.
“Are you ready to start our new life together, Mrs Garcia?” He asks.
I smile over at my handsome man, “Am I ever.”
Sebastian
Knock, knock.
“Come in!” I call. It’s my first day back and work and everybody wants something from me.
My head of security walks in. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Garcia.”
“That’s fine. How can I help you?”
He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “We have a situation downstairs.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Your… ex-wife is here, demanding to see you.”
I wince. “What?”
“She’s crying. Screaming the place down, actually.”
For fuck’s sake, I know how dramatic she can be. I’ve seen it many times. “Does she know that I’m here?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
I exhale heavily. I may as well get this over with. I can’t say I’m surprised. “Bring her in.”
“Very well, sir.” He leaves, and I let out a deep exhale. I’m not in the mood for this today.
Five minutes later, the door opens, and Helena walks in.
She’s been crying, and my stomach twists. If we were on better terms, I would have called her so that she heard the news from me first.
But we aren’t, so I didn’t.
She sits down at my desk. Her eyes hold mine.
I hold a pen in my hands. Guilt fills me. No matter how much animosity there is between us, regret still lingers when she’s hurt.
“Hello, Helena.”
“You married her?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes well with tears. “How could you?”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself saying something hurtful. “Helena, I will not have this conversation with you. Our marriage ended seven years ago.”
“She’s no angel,” she whispers angrily.
The hackles on my back rise. How dare she? “What do you mean by that?”
“Don’t act stupid. I know who she is.”
“And who is she?”
“She’s a lying whore.”
“She is nothing of the sort, and watch your fucking mouth. She is my wife.”
“Go to Hell.”
A sarcastic smile crosses my face. “Any chance of that ended with our divorce.”
“Are you happy with what you’ve done to me?”
“And what, pray tell, have I done to you?” I fume.
“Taken my name, my money… the life I was supposed to have.”
I smirk at the audacity of this woman. “You’re mistaken. It was you who took my money. I’m now happily married to the love of my life, and you will accept it.” I lose the last of my patience with this woman. “Move the fuck on, Helena, and leave us alone.”
Her cold eyes hold mine. “Last chance, Sebastian.”
“For what?” I smirk. “To understand how pathetic you really are? Too late.”
She takes an envelope out of her bag and passes it over to me.
“What’s this?”
A trace of a smile crosses her face. “Open it and see.”
I open the envelope and pull out an A4 photograph. It’s of April and I in the Escape Club all those years ago. April isn’t looking at the camera, but I can see clearly that it’s her.
My eyes rise to meet Helena’s.
She pauses for effect. “You know… the security system was surprisingly easy to hack.” She smiles sarcastically. “The beloved Prime Minister and his pure wife. The first lady, Mrs. Garcia, the lawyer,” she says quietly. “The dirty whore you paid for sex.”
My stomach drops.
No.
“You have forty-eight hours to hand over ten million pounds, or you and your whore will be exposed to the press.”
31
Sebastian
I frown in disgust. “What?”
“You heard me. Ten million, and I’ll disappear so you can carry on with your pathetic life.”
“Even if I had access to that kind of money, which I don’t, I’m not paying you one fucking penny.” I growl.