Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
I jerked back.
Sat up ramrod straight.
“Um, your phone.”He exhaled like he wanted to strangle someone.
“Ignore it.”It rang again.
And again.
He stabbed the screen to hang up, but whoever it was had octopus fingers.
The call came back instantly.
I glimpsed the name-Cassian Langford.
“Might wanna pick up,” I muttered, sliding off his lap and onto the other end of the sofa.
“If he’s calling this late, it’s probably something important.”I crossed my legs, leaned back, and grabbed a throw pillow like it could absorb the residual heat.
It couldn’t.
Sebastian looked like he wanted to murder someone.
He stabbed Answer.
“This better be life-and-death urgent or I’m blocking you for life.”Then his expression shifted from murder-mode to tight-lipped concern in record time.
“Yeah. Got it. On my way now.”He didn’t even wait to hang up before he was shrugging into his coat and heading for the door.
Something came up. I’ve got to handle it. Might not be back tonight”
“Right. Go. Drive safe.” I jumped up too fast, smacked my knee on the coffee table, and pretended I didn’t.
His footsteps were already fading down the hallway.
I didn’t catch what Cassian said, but judging by Sebastian’s face, it wasn’t just a broken printer or someone crying over a spreadsheet.
Once the tail lights vanished down the driveway, I closed the door and pressed my burning cheek against the cool wood.
“Saved by the bell.”Cassian’s call had come just in time.
Kissing Sebastian shouldn’t have been a big deal-in theory.
But in reality, I was suffering from sweaty palms, shaky hands, and a near brush with actually catching feelings.
If we hadn’t been interrupted right then, Sebastian was about to find out I was the world’s worst kisser.
***
The next day, I holed up in the study sketching design mock-ups, trying not to keep checking my phone every five seconds.
Sebastian didn’t come home last night.
I finally caved at lunch and texted him.
No reply.
By 5 pm, still nothing.
Either the world had ended or he was knee-deep in something ugly.
Probably both.
Then my screen lit up.
[Don’t worry, I’m fine. Dinner tonight. Want you to meet someone I’ll pick you up in an hour.]
I replied: [Cool.]
Then I legged it to my bedroom.
When I say I spent twenty minutes in front of the wardrobe debating between “business trophy wife” and “don’t-fuck-with-me chic”, I mean it.
There were more clothes in the closet than I could ever figure out what to do with.
I picked a high-neck column dress-long, slinky, classy, and just tight enough to make men pause mid-sentence.
The kind of dress that said, “Yes, I’ve got a brain, but don’t think for a second I’m not aware of my ass.”Hair slicked back in a neat twist, face done up just enough to show’d made an effort, I checked myself in the mirror and gave a nod.
Wouldn’t embarrass Sebastian.
Probably.
At six-thirty on the dot, a black Maybach rolled up.
Sebastian was in the back seat when the driver opened the door fot.in I slid in, smoothed my skirt over my thighs, and caught him starin His eyes dipped, sharp and shameless.
Lingering.
Assessing.
I knew that look.
That was “calculating the probability of ripping tliis dress off in a private booth” energy.
Except, his jaw twitched, and he dragged his gaze back to my face “You look… nice tonight,” he muttered.
I turned my head, gave him a smile like I hadn’t noticed him nearly combusting across from me.
Then tilted just enough so he could catch the glint of the Harry Winstons in my ears.
“Wore the earrings you gave me,” I said.
“I haven’t thanked you for them. The design’s exquisite.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice came out lower this time.
“They look perfect on you.”I wanted to throw a compliment back, but what the hell was I supposed to say?
That he looked nice?
Obviously.
The man wore a suit like it was tailored to his DNA.
And his face didn’t need jewellery or makeup to sharpen its features-it came pre-sculpted.
So I went with: “You look tired. Something happen at work?”And then immediately regretted it.
Genius conversationalist, Elean. Really killing it.
He nodded.
“Rebel attacks in the Red Sea. Some of our ships had to be rerouted.” Then he added, “Don’t worry, it’s handled.”And that killed the husband-and-wife talk.
The car pulled up outside one of those discreet, old-money restaurants that pretended to be low-key by charging four hundred dollars for a plate of air.
Sebastian took my hand and led me upstairs.
“So, who’re we meeting?” I asked.
“Business partner? A Laurent relative?”
“You’ll see.”Yeah. That didn’t feel ominous at all.
I took a breath and gave myself the usual pep talk.
It’s fine.
Smile, nod, pretend to be the arm candy.
No one can kill you if you look hot enough.
Then Sebastian opened the door. paused mid-stride.
Sitting in the booth, legs elegantly crossed, was none other than Octavia Grey.
Not completely, but enough that I didn’t feel like I needed to throw my drink in someone’s face.
Yet She looked exactly like she did in the films-only now I could see the tiny mole near her left ear and the way her lashes curled at the tips without mascara.
But what threw me was her vibe.
The press always painted her as some frosty diva who’d send back bottled water for being too wet.
But the woman in front of me was warm, open, and totally lacking in the catty energy I’d braced for.
And judging by the cosy familiarity but zero chemistry between her and Sebastian, I’d definitely overthought the whole he’s-about -to-dump-me-for-an-actress situation.
Once the food arrived, Sebastian cleared his throat.
“Eleanor, she’s got a favour to ask,” he said, nodding toward Octavia.
“Me?” I jabbed my thumb at my chest.
“You sure you’ve got the right Elean?”Sebastian gave Octavia a look.
She leaned in, smiling like we were besties at brunch.
“Seb mentioned you’re a jewellery designer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m flying out to the Venice International Film Festival in a few days, and I still haven’t locked in my jewellery. The big brands all sent stuff, but it’s the same old shiny crap. I wanted something different. Something custom.” She paused.