Your Irresistible Love (The Bennett Family 1)

“The buzz around it got you enough partners to offset the cost.”

“I know. You’re a genius.”

Pride swells inside me at his words. Shortly afterward, we take a break. The models wear robes, milling around, drinking nothing but water, even though the catering company also brought model-approved food like salads and low-calorie everything.

Sebastian speaks in a hushed voice to Pippa, still ignoring all the hot looks he gets. He speaks to the technician who’s behind all the magic that will happen during the show, especially the opening stunt. Since Sebastian and I aren’t displaying our relationship (very) publicly, we try to keep our distance to what would pass as professional interest.

Pippa walks to me and says in a low voice, “Looking at these girls makes me feel bad about all those cupcakes I eat.”

“You look great,” I reassure her.

“I like my body, though I have my unfavorable spots, but it’s hard to look at them and not get self-conscious.”

Silently, I agree.

“I mean, look at Simone. She’s practically perfect,” Pippa says. “Well, she’s a total bitch, but other than that. . . Anyway, I wanted to ask you something else. I need to change something.”

Oh, crap. I knew it. Here it comes.

“The dress Lily wears the second time she comes out isn’t right.”

I wait for the blow—something like—oh, and I want the entire color scheme changed, but Pippa seems to be done with the requests.

“I know a designer put the models’ looks together,” she continues, “but I trust you. You have excellent taste in clothing. Would you mind looking backstage? Maybe you’ll find something more suitable?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll bring you a few other choices you can look at and decide.”

“Perfect.” With a chuckle, she adds, “Look at my brother. He came just to see you. He hates coming to these things. Models are drawn to him like moths to a flame.”

“They are, aren’t they?” I ask with a dry mouth.

“I give him five minutes before he bolts, or goes to another room,” she adds in a low, conspiratorial tone.

***

The prep room smells like overheated hair spray. It’s empty right now, since all the stylists are at the buffet. The clothes are stuffed in an adjacent room, which also houses a couch. There are hangers upon hangers with clothes, and I head to the back of the room, where I spot two hangers chock-full of cocktail dresses. Browsing through them, I find four that’d be appropriate.

Suddenly, I hear voices from the front of the room. I hadn’t even realized someone was there. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I instinctively bend my knees and duck, hiding behind the hanger.

“Sebastian Bennett, what a surprise to see the CEO himself here. You’ve never joined the rehearsals before,” a woman says. Her voice is throaty and low. Simone. A sinking feeling forms in my stomach, my heart suddenly weighing a hundred pounds. I saw the way she ogled Sebastian; and she’s so beautiful.

“It was about time I paid a visit,” he says.

I look around for a way to escape. Damn it, there is no way out except through the door I came through, and they’d see me immediately. With trembling hands, I part two dresses, looking between them. I have a direct view of the back of Sebastian’s head. He sits on the couch while Simone stands in front of him. She’s wearing nothing but a robe, and her stance is provocative, revealing too much of her generous cleavage and perfectly toned legs.

“Like anything you see?” she asks. Tears spring to the corners of my eyes. This can’t be happening to me. I can’t witness my man cheating on me. Again. I simply can’t take it. . . not from Sebastian. My heart grows so heavy, I feel like I’m choking. I bite my forearm, afraid a sob might come out, giving me away. How much bad luck can I have? Isn’t it dreadful enough that I walked in on my ex, John, doing it with that ho? Do I now have to watch the man to whom I’ve given myself completely do this here? My eyes water. Damn it, I don’t want to cry. This can’t be happening. I must look away and cover my ears. Yeah, that’s what I should do. But like the masochist I am, I keep looking. This is like watching a car wreck, only now I see my life getting wrecked.

“I’m not here for any of this.” Sebastian’s voice is brisk, but it does nothing to calm me. Sweat dots my palms. I tug at my lower lip with my teeth.

“Oh, really? I bet I can change your mind.”

“Listen—what is your name?”

“Simone.”

“Listen, Simone, I don’t get involved with people I work with.”

“Why not make an exception? Don’t you like what you see? I won’t tell if you don’t. It’ll be our secret.”