Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
What was I missing?
Several women, dressed head to toe in severe black with tight hair buns, wheeled four racks of clothing into the bedroom. Unzipping the cloth covers, they revealed garments from some of the world’s best designers: Gucci, Versace, Valentino, Prada, Armani, Biagiotti.
All Italian, of course.
Sebastian stepped up to the racks and flipped through the hangers. The woman in charge pulled out outfits, showing them to him as he nodded yes or shook his head no.
After several minutes, I inched forward and gestured toward an Armani sheath dress. “I’m fine with the Armani.”
It was clear I had no choice. If I didn’t want to walk the streets of Paris in his dress shirt, I’d have to choose an outfit.
The sheath dress was simple and elegant. My gold heels wouldn’t look out of place with it, and it was from Armani’s off-the-rack workwear collection—not outrageously expensive.
“If you can just get my purse, I’ll give you a credit card.”
All the chatter stopped.
Every person turned to stare at me as if I’d suggested a dress with two collars for my second head.
To mask my embarrassment, I fluffed my hair. “I’m sorry, do you not take credit cards?”
The woman in charge turned to Sebastian, speaking rapid-fire French with animated gestures. Though too fast to catch everything, I understood the key phrases.
“Insult.”
“New wardrobe.”
“Valued client.”
“Diamonds.”
Sebastian raised a hand, silencing them all. He then spoke in clear, deliberate French.
My mouth dropped open.
I had to have heard him wrong.
There was no way he had just told her he’d take everything.
But judging by her self-satisfied smirk and the way she bowed and literally kissed his signet ring, he had.
The woman gestured to a small trunk, which one of her attendants opened. It was filled with lingerie. A second trunk held shoes, and a third, purses.
With a flourish, the women filed out, leaving us alone.
I crossed my arms over my middle. “What just happened?”
Sebastian brushed past me into the closet. He revealed a distracting view of his tight ass in black Calvin Kleins as he shrugged out of his robe.
I knew it.
He selected a pair of slacks and stepped into them.
As his long fingers zipped and buttoned them, he asked, “What do you mean?”
I threw an arm toward the racks. “Did you just tell her you’d take all these clothes?”
It was my job to know the cost of reputable designers, and there was easily over a hundred thousand dollars' worth of high-end merchandise in the room.
He threaded a black leather belt through the loops. “You’ll need an acceptable wardrobe for your new position at the House of Diamanti. And I insist you only wear Italian designers.”
He unfolded a soft gray cashmere sweater and pulled it over his head.
Still vulnerable in his oversized shirt, I marched to one rack and found the cheapest item: a Prada black tracksuit with nylon stripes and a cropped hoodie. Behind the rack, I quickly changed into the sweatpants and hoodie before coming back.
Sebastian, now wearing dress shoes and fastening a heavy silver Rolex around his wrist, glanced at me as I rummaged through the shoe trunk for sneakers.
I laced up the white Prada sneakers I'd found. “I already told you I don’t want the job. And the only reason I’m taking these clothes is because you stole mine.”
With as much authority as I could muster, I straightened and faced him. “I’d like my purse, please.”
Sebastian chuckled and ruffled my hair. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.”
My eyes widened. “This isn’t funny, Sebastian. I want to leave.”
He winked. “I think I know exactly what you want, Sabrina, and it isn’t to leave.”
I inhaled sharply through my teeth.
The arrogance of this man.
There was confidence, and then there was sociopathic confidence.
Sebastian clearly leaned toward one side of the spectrum.
“Don’t presume to tell me what I do and don’t want. Now, are you going to let me leave?”
His eyebrow arched. “I’m not stopping you.”
“You have my purse.”
He gestured with his head to the main room. “The safe is open. It has been all morning.”
The humiliating truth of his admission hit me.
“You’re a real bastard, you know that, Sebastian?”
“It takes one to know one, Sabrina.”
I stumbled backward.
He couldn’t possibly know that I was illegitimate.
I didn’t think for a second that he knew all about my fashion stylist gigs before we met, either. Clearly, he had researched me since then.
I needed to get the hell out of here.
After I stormed past him into the main suite, I found the large safe inside the foyer coat closet.
It was open, just like he'd said.
Once I snatched my purse from the safe, I crossed to the hotel suite doors and wrenched them open.
Immediately, two large men dressed in S.W.A.T gear closed ranks, blocking my exit.
From behind me, Sebastian’s deep voice commanded, “Let her go.”
The men fell back.
I barely glanced at him as I fought back tears. “Goodbye, Sebastian. I’d rather you didn’t try to contact me.”