Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
“Alright then.” She consulted her phone.
“It’s way past lunchtime. You’re probably hungry.”
“Join me.”
“But I’m not hungry.”
“Just a bite. You know you love Carmen’s cooking.”
“I do.” She dug out a disposable fork.
“Alright, just a bite.”He opened the box.
Immediately, a wave of vegetable oil and fried onion smell wafted out.
Eleanor winced, the fork hovering mid-air uncertainly.
“This is Carmen’s cooking?”Sebastian mentally cursed the restaurant. The fries were glistening so much, he could see his reflection in them.
But one lie led to another, so he nodded.
“Yes. Carmen wanted to try something different today. You know, switch it up a bit.
She’s… experimenting.”Eleanor inched away from the food like it might jump out and stain her blouse. She set down her fork.
“You go ahead.”It was Sebastian’s fork’s turn to hover.
“I thought you were hungry,” Eleanor said.
With grim determination, Sebastian picked up the plastic fork and speared a piece of chicken which looked marginally less oily than its companions.
It was appalling. Greasy, oversalted, vaguely spongy.
He chewed mechanically, swallowing with difficulty.
The silence stretched. Only the sounds of his tortured chewing filled the car.
Eleanor watched him sympathetically. She handed him a bottle iced water from the minifridge.
“Here.”He took a grateful swig.
“You don’t have to eat it if you hate it so much,” she said.
“I don’t hate it. I’m just not used to it.”
“You’d have to be a junk food addict to get used to it.” Eleanor glanced at her phone.
“I should get back to the office.”
“Wait.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then took a breath min “What is it?”
“I brought you lunch. Shouldn’t I get something in return?
“For a lunch I didn’t eat?”
“It’s the thought that counts,” he argued.
“Fine. What do you want?”He pretended to think about it. He already knew.
“Kiss me.”
“What?”When she didn’t move, he sighed.
“I bring you food, only to find you’ve already eaten-with another man. And now I’m here, starving, forcing down cold leftovers. But it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“No one asked you to bring me food,” she murmured, sounding conflicted.
“It’s alright,” he said again, soft and martyred.
She hesitated.
Then, as if deciding to humour a particularly petulant child, she leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Except Sebastian turned his head just before she landed.
Her lips grazed the corner of his mouth instead of his cheek.
He didn’t give her a chance to retreat.
He chased her down with a kiss of his own, firm, insistent, coaxing He caught her bottom lip between his, teasing it with a slow tug before tracing its curve with his tongue.
She tensed, startled. He felt the resistance in her shoulders, in the way her breath caught.
But then she gave in.
Sebastian’s pulse surged, a low thrum in his throat and chest.
The car around them was dim, sunlight filtered through tinted windows, casting a faint golden haze.
Outside, the world carried on-horns honking, engines sputtering the distant grind of brakes-but it all faded into nothing beneath the press of her lips.
She parted them slightly. Enough for him to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past the seam of her mouth, slow and reverent, not demanding but utterly unrelenting.
The scent of her perfume mingled with the ghost of her lip gloss, now smeared across his own mouth,
Then she bit his lower lip.
Not hard. Just enough to shock him back into his body.
He froze, breath hitching. Was that anger? Reproach?
He was about to pull back, to apologise, but her arm slid behind his neck and pulled him in.
Her fingers tangled at the base of his hair. She kissed him again, deeper this time, without hesitation.
He tasted a trace of chocolate cake on her tongue.
Her mouth moved against his with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how he liked to be kissed, and had no interest in pretending otherwise.
It was familiar, practised, well-rehearsed.
But there was nothing tired about it.
Their mouths moved in sync, a rhythin built from their multiple rehearsals.
She kissed him until the lip gloss was entirely gone, until only heat and breath remained between them.
Then she pulled away.
Sebastian sat there, dazed, lips tingling and heart pounding against the starched line of his shirt.
She met his eyes, amused and just a little smug.
“Next time you want a kiss, just ask. You don’t have to torture yourself with sad excuses like that.” She glanced pointedly at the takeaway container, still open.
Then she opened the door and slipped out of the car.
Sebastian watched her disappear into the building.
Then he reached over, flipped the tray up, and dumped the entire offensive meal straight into the bin.
“Worth it.”I was slouched on the couch, flicking through channels, when I noticed a white box on the coffee table.
Sebastian came into the living room.
“It’s for you. Open it.”
“For me?” I looked up, surprised, and reached for the box, flipping the lid open.
Inside were two rings.
I froze, my fingers hovering over the smooth metal.
He stepped into my line of sight, standing right in front of me.
“They are our wedding rings.”I glanced at the rings again. A pair of platinum bands, each with a small band of delicate diamonds embedded in them. The first letter of our names-“M” and “A”-engraved inside.
I didn’t reach for them.
“What happened to the rings we wore to your grandfather’s party? I probably lost mine somewhere in the pool.”
“It has been found, but that was a mere prop, bought at a moment’s notice.”
“It was good enough to fool the guests.”
“But not good enough for you.”
“I’m not sure about this,” I said.
“We’ve already swapped gifts once, remember? The black gold ring I gave you, and the pendant with the grandidierite stone you gave me.”Which was so valuable that I’d only worn it once before locking it away in a safe.
“Those were gifts to commemorate the beginning of our collaboration. Wedding rings are different.”
“Exactly. Wedding rings are different.” Wearing them, in public, at all times, would transform our marriage from a line in a contract to a visible truth, seen and understood by everyone.
“A ring would save you the hassle of having to explain yourself to everyone.”
“I don’t have to explain myself to anyone anyway,” I argued.
“Including Mr Carter?”
“Finn? What about him? He never asked me if I’m married. Why would he?”Sebastian stared at me. I was seated, he was standing, an angle that made his already imposing height feel even more overwhelming.
He didn’t say a word, but his silence pressed down on me so heavily, I felt compelled to explain myself.”