His nostrils flare, and I know I hit a nerve.
“Stay the fuck away from me.” I sneer, with one last look, I march out into the foyer and straight into the ladies’ room. Once in the cubicle, I close the door as tears fill my eyes.
I can feel my heartbeat pounding everywhere. I drop my head into my hands, overcome with anger.
I hate Sebastian Garcia with all of my being. I hate him. I hate that he still affects me.
I hate that I still care.
Sebastian
I run my hands through my hair as I try to calm down. Fuck!
What is she doing here?
I thought she went back to America. I pinch the bridge of my nose and stay in the cloakroom for a moment alone. Her words come back to me.
You……. Are just another sleazy…entitled… politician.
Bitch.
That’s it. I’m out of here. I open the door and march out with purpose.
She turns up here, tells me that she’s going to throw a drink on me if I don’t speak to her, slaps me across the face, and then she calls me entitled.
What the fuck?
“Sebastian.” I hear a woman voice call from behind me.
I turn and see Gisselle, an old friend that I have recently reconnected with. We’ve been chatting online and over the phone for a few weeks.
Fuck… worst timing ever.
I fake a smile. “Gisselle, hi.” I kiss her on the cheek. I glance down at her, and although I’m too angry to even see what she looks like, I pay her a compliment. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” She beams, and I remember why I had begun messaging her. She is stunning. “I didn’t know you were going to be here. Are you having a good night?”
“I am.” I pause. “Unfortunately, though, I’m on my way out. I have another engagement for work I have to attend.”
Her face falls.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we could get a coffee or something?” I offer.
She smiles. “I’d like that.”
“Okay.” I bend and kiss her on the cheek before I brush past her.
I walk into the conservatorium, straight over to Spence.
“I’m leaving,” I tell them
Spencer frowns. “Why?”
“Because I’m not in the mood for this fucking shithole, that’s why. Are you coming or not?”
“Masters!” Spence calls over to Julian who is talking to someone. “We’re heading off. You coming?”
Julian’s frowns, still focused on the man he’s talking to. He holds his finger up to tell Spence to wait a moment. Moments later, he turns back to us. “What?”
“We’re leaving,” I say, as I head for the door.
“Why?”
“Please tell me it has to do with that smoking hot blonde bitch,” Spencer says, following me out.
“Bitch being the operative word. What the fuck was her problem?” Masters asks dryly.
“You know, I think it’s hot when women are bitches,” Spencer says as we walk out through the foyer. “It’s a real turn on, you know. I don’t like you but just fuck me hard anyway.”
“Will you shut up?” I roll my eyes. “The shit that comes out of your mouth sometimes, Spencer. Honestly.”
“It’s a fine line for the bitch level to be worth it,” Masters chimes in. “She was fucking hot, though.”
“I said, will you two shut the fuck up?” We get into the back of my waiting car.
The driver turns to us after we’ve climbed inside. “Where to?”
The boys both look to me.
“Do you want to get something to eat?” I ask.
“I guess.” They both shrug.
“Hugo’s in Kensington, please.”
The car zooms through the streets of London, and the boys chatter between themselves leaving me to stare out the window at the passing traffic, lost in my own thoughts.
You are just another sleazy…entitled…politician.
“Who was that chick?” Masters asks.
“Nobody.”
“Shit, she sure seemed like a somebody. She dragged you out to the foyer, and then you come back looking like you saw a ghost.”
“Shut. Up,” I hiss.
“How do you know her?”
They’re going to keep going on about this, so I have to give them something.
“We dated a few years ago. It went badly.” I give a subtle shake of my head. “That was the first time I’ve seen her since and—”
“And now she wants to cut your dick off,” Spencer finishes for me.
“Basically.” I stare out the window.
“Well, see if she can do it with her teeth,” Masters says.
Spencer laughs. “Right?”
Masters phone beeps, and he reads a text and rolls his eyes. “Fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath.
“What?” Spence asks.
“Bree is busting my fucking balls over this renovation for Willow.”
I get a vision of Bree giving it to my grumpy friend, and I smirk.
“Why?”
He holds his phone up and looks at us deadpan. There are two images of different types of carpet. “Who thinks about carpet on a fucking Saturday night?” He raises his eyebrows. “I mean, seriously.”
Spencer and I laugh, and I feel a little of my anger dissipate.
I stare back out the window as normality comes back into focus and I feel my equilibrium return.