Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
More importantly, I needed time to give myself a proper warning not to shove my tongue down his throat or do something wildly inappropriate and irreversible.
Sebastian froze.
Literally stopped breathing.
Body stiff like someone had swapped his spine for an ironing board He just sat there. Silent.
Was he mad?
Or disappointed?
Or silently scanning our ironclad hell of a contract, trying to find a clause that said “if fake wife misbehaves, fake husband gets to unleash legal hellfire”?
I decided not the poke the bear further.
“Let’s leave it at this for today, yeah?”He exhaled. His voice came out low and rough: We’ll talk tonight.
“Cool, cool.” I bounced off his lap.
Then I caught him looking at me weird.
I squinted back at him.
Was his neck… red?
Like, sunburn-at-midnight red.
For a split second I thought maybe I’d given him a love bite without realising, but unless I’d started sucking necks in my sleep, that wasn’t it.
“Are you-?” I was about to ask if he was allergic to my lip gloss when Carmen popped her head in.
“Mr Laurent, Mrs Laurent, breakfast’s ready.” She gave me a sunny smile.
“Mrs Laurent, I made that spicy chorizo scramble you like so much.”
“Thanks, Carmen.”I looked at the dining room longingly.
Then at the door.
Then at Sebastian.
His lips curved.
“Thought you had a breakfast date with Yvaine?”
“It could also be a lunch date,” I amended.
“Or afternoon tea. Yvaine’s very flexible.”He stood.
“Let’s eat.”I moonwalked into the dining room.
Last night I’d been so starved I almost broke into the pantry, but I’d stayed in bed like a good little fake-drunk idiot to avoid blowing my cover.
Now I was starving.
I sat down.
Sebastian tore a freshly toasted baguette in hall and passed one to me I slathered mine with strawberry jam and shoved the jar of p?t? towards him without thinking.
And then it hit me.
Not the food.
The domesticity.
The fact that this whole stupid, cosy, married-for-show breakfast vibe was starting to feel normal.
Like I knew exactly how he liked his coffee.
Like he knew I put jam on everything.
Like we were just another boring couple doing breakfast, not two liars caught in a high-stakes fake marriage.
And that freaked me out way more than kissing him ever could.
***
After breakfast, I locked myself in the study to sketch BloomState drafts.
Geoffrey had cleared out the room just for me, and I’d never been this productive in my life.
Even at Nyx Collective, with every professional tool and software available, I didn’t work this fast.
Sometime in the evening, Sebastian texted to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner.
I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
Then he walked through the front door twenty minutes later.
Apparently, “not home for dinner” didn’t mean “not home at all”.
Thanks for the clarity, CEO of Misleading Messages.
I was in the kitchen sipping water when the door clicked open.
My fight-or-flight kicked in.
I picked flight.
Slipping past the island, I tiptoed towards the stairs like a cartoon burglar.
And then I saw him.
Sebastian was draped across the sofa like a GQ centre-spread, legs crossed, shirt slightly undone.
His eyes were fixed on me.
I scratched my chin and faked a grin.
“Uh… long day? You should turn in early. Beauty sleep and all that.”His right hand dangled lazily over the armrest.
Then his index finger lifted, curling at me like I was a pet he was summoning.
“Come here.”I should’ve said no.
Should’ve kept walking.
I didn’t.
My feet moved.
One step.
Two.
This morning I’d clocked how soft his lips looked.
Thin, precise, probably very kissable.
A kiss wouldn’t kill me.
Hell, I was getting paid.
Two million sat snug in my bank account, which was plenty of motivation to treat him like a hot human cheque with abs.
I picked up the pace and dropped niyself onto his lap like I did this every Tuesday.
Sebastian blinked.
This was clearly not what he expected.
“I said come here. I didn’t say do anything.”I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“C’mon. We both know what “come here” means with you. Let’s just get the rehearsal over with. I’ve got sketches to finish.”Sebastian’s jaw clenched so hard I thought he might chip a molar.
One of his hands twitched, like he was dying to grab me, but playing It cool.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Neither of us blinked.
It was a Mexican standoff, except no one had a gun.
The lights had dimmed-had they always been that low?
His stupid smart home probably detected horniness and adjusted the mood lighting.
I could feel my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, chest pressed this.
He wasn’t saying a word.
Neither was I.
Both were waiting for the other to make a move first.
Pride’s a bitch like that.
Then-fine. I cracked first.
I shut my eyes, leaned in, lips inches from his, breath ghosting across his skin-
His phone rang.