I turn to Shawn with a scowl. “This is not a vendor event. It’s a party. If they come, they come. Please don’t pressure Mr. Blake.”
Sebastian interrupts my whispered scolding, “No, no. He’s right. I wanted you here because we always do something extra for guests at these events. Last year, it was a photo booth, and the year before, we had Kareem Abdul Jabbar signing basketballs. This year, we’re loading them up with chocolate. The guests should come over because this is their gift.”
There’s a group of people to the side, young twenty-somethings, who Sebastian walks over to. When he comes back, it’s with an entourage of eight, who he introduces to me and Shawn. Then, he steps back as the people check out my offerings. A man takes the tongs placed on the table, examining each one, like he can’t decide what he wants to choose.
“What are you drinking?” I ask him.
He looks back at me, confused. “Single malt scotch.”
“Whiskey and chocolate are a perfect pairing since their flavor profiles are so similar. It’s best to enjoy both at room temperature.” I lift my tongs and offer him a piece of sea salt dark chocolate to put on his plate. “Place this in your mouth for a few seconds before taking a sip. Scotch is naturally creamy with notes of citrus, so the chocolate will brighten up the scotch while the drink’s subtle honey flavor showcases the bold salty note.”
He does so and then chews, enjoying the piece before following with a sip of scotch.
His head nods in appreciation. “That’s delicious.”
“Do me!” A woman moves over enthusiastically. “What do you recommend for champagne?”
Shawn and I show our guests around the table, recommending chocolates to pair with whatever they’re drinking—nutty flavors for bourbon, white chocolate for tequila, and extra-dark chocolate for merlot.
Once Sebastian walked over the first group, the floodgates opened, and the table is bustling with people tasting our product.
Not everyone wants their drinks paired. Some just come and sample without a word. Others are specific about allergies and dietary restrictions. Many just want something sweet after eating appetizers and visiting the carving or pasta stations.
Sebastian is back several times, always with someone he wants to introduce me to. Colleagues of his, affiliates of the business, and even a few people he’s meeting tonight for the first time. He doesn’t treat me or Shawn like hired help. He introduces us as his friends and raves about our products, even making suggestions on how they should use us for corporate gifts over the holidays.
While my cheeks are blushing and my heart is pounding, I retain my professionalism as I greet them and cater to their tasting needs. A few ask for my card, and I am happy to pass it on.
There’s a moment where I wonder if I’m going to run out of chocolates since some people are coming back multiple times.
Two hours into the party, the attention to our table has simmered down, as most people are now dancing, drinking, and engrossed in conversation. I’d say a hundred or so people have already left, and there’s still another hour of the event remaining.
I’m standing at the front of the table, where I’m making sure the tasting dishes are lined up in perfectly symmetrical form when a warm hand on my back has me looking up.
I know who it is before I see him.
Sebastian removes his hand and slides it into his pants pocket. I adjust a tendril of hair that’s fallen in front of my face and breathe deeply.
“You have many new fans, Miss Morgana.”
I smile as I shake my head and glance down at my shoes. “I’ve never done a large event like this. I’ve been to trade shows, but this was a new experience. I had to get my cocktail-hour schmooze hat on. It’s a lot of work.”
He grins that lopsided one that I miss. “You were brilliant. Just don’t forget us little people when you’re world famous.”
I playfully slug him in the arm. It’s a childish move that I instantly feel silly for doing. I might as well have given the man a noogie.
Still, he laughs because that’s the kind of guy Sebastian is.
“May I have this dance?” he asks with an outstretched hand.
I blink at it a few times, wondering if I heard him wrong. I tilt my head with a raised brow.
“You can’t tell me you don’t like to dance because I know for a fact that you do.”
I place my hand on my hip, and I use the other to showcase my attire of black pants and a mauve chef’s jacket. “I’m not exactly dressed for dancing.”
He pulls me toward him anyway. “I was unaware there was a dress code for dancing. Last I heard, you could do so in your underwear.”
I give him a deadpan expression, which he refuses to acknowledge as he leads me to the dance floor. I quickly remove my jacket and throw it to Shawn, who waves as I’m taken away.
Sebastian guides me through the crowd, and the tempo changes from a Motown dance to a jazz standard. The opening chords to Norah Jones’s “Come Away with Me” plays, and I relax to the familiar beats of the piano.
My shoulders fall as I look up at Sebastian in defeat. He grips my waist and pulls me flush against him. His other hand takes mine and holds it close to his chest.
I laugh to myself at how incorrigible this man is before I lay my free hand on his shoulder and let him lead me in a dance.
“I feel silly,” I say, looking around at the beautifully dressed women on the floor. He doesn’t say anything in response, so I lean up a little and see him more clearly. “You’re dancing with the help.”
“I quite like the help,” he muses.
I give him my sternest eyes. “I’m serious.”
He matches my expression with sarcasm. “So am I.”
“People are staring.”
“Let them. You’re too beautiful for them not to.”
My breath hitches at his words, and I have to look away. I turn my nose to his lapel and stare at it as we dance. His intoxicating scent is potent tonight. Citrus and woodsy and so very male. His large hand is splayed on my back; I can feel the heat of it as it warms my body up to my cheeks.
I swallow hard. “Do you have this large of an event every year?”
“We do. It’s a thank-you to our clients, referral partners, and staff. My partners and I don’t like doing anything this big around the holidays. Everyone’s already so busy, and events are a dime a dozen. This is a good time to say thank you and give everyone a night out that they actually look forward to.”
“That’s a smart idea. Christmas in springtime.”
“We have a holiday party that is not this formal. We rent out a pub for happy hour and let everyone get hammered. We also do a barbecue around Labor Day to end the summer.”
Somewhere during our conversation, I moved from looking at his shoulder to staring up into his eyes. “The law firm that parties together stays together?”
“The job comes with a lot of stress. If you don’t balance it out with friends, family, and a good work environment, it can burn you out.”
He lifts our joined hands and points to the bar that’s off the dance floor. His assistant is there with a group, laughing loudly at something someone said. His arm is around a girl, who is staring at him, beaming.
“Miles over there has been so consumed with work that his girlfriend almost left him last year.”
“That’s horrible. I assume they made it through. Let me guess … you gave him the night off to go to some high-priced restaurant, dinner paid by you.”
“That’s absurd.” He blanches, and I stare up at him with an inquisitive glare. “I gave them the keys to my beach house for the weekend and told him to take Monday off.”
I laugh out loud. “Of course you did.”
Sebastian spins me. It’s not called for in the song, but it feels good to do it anyway. As he twirls me back in, I’m even closer, tighter, firmer … more in every aspect.
It’s so easy to fall under his spell. He’s hypnotic in his words, spellbounding
with his gaze, and I’m so bewitched that I might float right off this dance floor.
“You really take care of everyone, don’t you?” I whisper.
“I try.” His deep baritone vibrates in his chest as his attention becomes focused on my lips.
I let out a shaky breath and lift my chin. “Speaking of … no more handouts.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“Isn’t it?” I arch a brow.
“No,” he states assuredly. “I wanted to showcase a phenomenal local business while offering a great favor to people who had contributed generously to our company.”
“This isn’t because you feel bad by how things were left?”
My question appears to have caught him off guard. It’s a conversation we’ve been dancing around, both literally and figuratively.
“It does feel like unfinished business, you and me. I didn’t want it to end the way it did,” he says, and I nod. It did end, and him stating it seems so final. “There are many things I’d like to discuss with you—perhaps in a more private setting. But tonight, this was just me doing something good for you. I care for you, and I have a need to help those I care about.”
The tender expression in his brown eyes is sincere.
“Who takes care of you?” I ask, breathy.
“I don’t need anything.”
“Everyone needs something.”
“Well, there is one thing I want, but I don’t think I’ll be able to have it as my own.”
My feet halt on the dance floor, as do his. He’s staring at me—and not just at my eyes. He’s looking so deeply that I swear he’s gazing into my soul. Because in this moment, it feels like I’m the thing he wants.
My soul is screaming at him, begging him to take me.
Have me.
Love me.
Our hands release, and he places one on my cheek while mine finds his heart. It’s thumping quickly, and I feel it racing against my palm.
His fingers glide down my temple and cup my jaw. I lean into his hand and stare into his gorgeous face. My lips part, and I take a heavy inhale.
His eyes fall to my mouth. His tongue dips out to lick his lower lip.
I inhale deeply and lean in a touch. My body quivering.
He comes forward, and his eyes shift to the side. His brow drops, and I see it. The hesitation. There’s something holding him back.
He looks back to my mouth, but I pull away, moving away from him, giving us much-needed space.
The song has now changed to a dance tune, and the people around us are moving in rapid beats while Sebastian and I stand here, staring at one another.
I take two more steps back and knock into someone. With an apology, I excuse myself from the dance floor and start to walk back to the tasting table.
Sebastian grabs my hand. I turn back to him but shake my head.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” I start, but he stops me.
“Why did you just walk away like that?” he asks, dumbfounded.
Normally, I’d say it was nothing and leave. But there’s something about his perplexed expression that has me saying, “You were about to kiss me, Sebastian. But you halted like there was something else that was more important for you to think about. Call me old-fashioned, but when a man is about to kiss me, I want to be the only thing on his mind.” He goes to speak, but I halt him with my hands and my words. “Please, don’t try to explain. You were right when you said we felt like unfinished business. But it ended. You have a beautiful life you need to focus on. Perhaps tonight was what we both needed to put this thing between us to bed. Figuratively, of course. Not literally.”
“Amy, I—”
“Please. People are already staring, and I’d like to leave here with a reputation of being an exceptional artisanal chocolatier. Not a woman who got into it with the boss at the company party.”
My words have him standing taller with a slight nod of his head, showing he understands my need for decorum. I take the opportunity to walk back to the table and stand with Shawn. He starts to speak, but I just give him my downturned eyes and silently ask him not to give his advice. I just want to work and move on.
As much as I secretly hoped there could be a world where Sebastian and I could coexist, it turns out, my heart is just not strong enough to be around the one thing in this world I want but cannot have.
Chapter Fifteen
It’s been a long night. Shawn and I package up the remaining chocolate and pack everything into my car. I drop him off at his place, adamant that I can unload on my own. I need something to do to keep myself from overthinking about my night.
I bring the supplies inside myself and then take Lady Featherington for a long walk. When I return, I put everything away.
Now, it’s just me and Lady Featherington lying on my bed and watching Bridgerton on Netflix. I might or might not have a tray of truffles next to me that I’m devouring at an unhealthy pace.
A ring at the alleyway door surprises me and has me checking my watch to see the time. When I look at my phone, I see Sebastian standing in my alley with his hands in his pockets as he rocks on his heels.
I rise from the futon and walk to the door, not caring that I’m wearing yoga pants and an oversize sweatshirt. My face is clean of makeup, and my hair is in a long braid. It’s unsexy and plain, most definitely not a look I’d go for when seeing a man.
If he decides to show up, unannounced, then my dowdy appearance is what it is.
I open the door to see he’s still wearing his suit from earlier, tie and all. His hair has been raked through, and his cheeks are flush.
If he thinks I look a mess, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s staring at me like I’m a mirage in the desert.
“What are you doing here?” I cross my arms, not because I’m upset to see him, but because I just realized I’m not wearing a bra and the cold air might have an unwelcome effect in this exact moment.
“I came to say all the things I should have said earlier, but I didn’t want to make a scene.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I’m not here for forgiveness. I’m here to explain.” His tone is louder, more fervent than I’ve heard from him before. He runs his hand through his hair and behind his neck, letting out a long, deep breath. “Can I come in?”
With my eyes closed, I briefly consider not allowing him in, but my manners get the best of me when I open them and see the clear distress in his face.
I nod for him to come inside as I step back. He walks through the threshold, and I close the door behind him.
The room is dark. There’s no music or sweet smell of confections, like the last time he was here.
It’s just me and Sebastian.
It’s silent, except for the sound of my heart.
His back is to me with his head straight ahead, staring at my painting. Its vibrant colors are subdued by the vintage-book page canvas it was created on. It’s of a woman’s face. Her bright green eyes bleed tears of the same color. Her lips are parted with words to say. She’s a dreamer, a woman yearning as she looks forward for her desires.
I feel very much like her right now as I watch Sebastian’s back rise and fall. His hands clench to the sides and release when he spins to me.
“You were right,” he starts. “I wanted to kiss you tonight, but I hesitated.”
His confession leaves me leaning to the side as I grip the counter. I let the cool metal surface ground me in reality, for fear his words will levitate and destroy me.
“I hesitated because I don’t know if you want me as much as I want you. I’m crazy about you, Amy. Beyond crazy. I’m falling for you hard, and I can’t seem to get up.”
My entire chest ignites as my hopes lift. Tingles rise up and down my arms, and I have to catch my breath to keep up with the feelings inside my body.
“You can’t say that. You’re having a baby with another woman.”
“I al
ready love that child more than anything in this world, and he’s not even here yet.” He takes a step forward, his hands out in offering. “But I’m not in love with her. Our time ran out already, and this is a blessing that came out of a relationship that had run its course.” He takes another step closer, his body just a whisper away. His voice just as low. “I know I come with baggage. This is more than any man should ask of a woman, but, Amy”—he grips my hands and holds them close to his heart—“if you’ll give us a try, I swear I’ll be the best man you’ll ever know. I want to worship you, provide for you, protect you.”
“I won’t be responsible for breaking up a family if there’s a chance you’ll be together.” My heart clenches at having to turn him away again.
“There’s not a chance. She and I have had this conversation, and neither of us wants to be together. We want to co-parent. That’s it. She knows I want you, and she wants us to work as much as I do. Did you hear me? I’m falling in love with you. So hard and so fast. I can’t eat or sleep without you on my mind. A fool of a man would let you walk away without fighting like hell to give love another shot. I should have said this a long time ago instead of letting you walk out my door. I had numerous chances, but I hoped you’d come back to me on your own. You haven’t, so this is me, fighting like hell for you.”
A rogue tear falls from my eye. I didn’t even know I wanted to cry, but his words are everything I’ve ever wanted to hear. He’s vowing to worship, provide, and protect. They’re such wonderful promises that have me shaking from his emotion.
Giving this man a chance means I could have my heart shattered. But I’m walking around with a bruised and battered one without him. It’s crippling me.
“I don’t need any of those things you mentioned,” I say, and his face falls with worry. With my palm on his cheek, I bring his focus back to me. “I just want you. I’ve been a wreck these long weeks without you.”
A huge smile ignites his face, and he holds my cheeks, making my arms fall to my sides in surprise. “Then, what the fuck are we doing?”
I laugh at his reaction and shrug.
He moves a hand to my back and pulls me into him, caressing my hair and gripping me by the back of my head.
Loyal Lawyer: A Standalone Novel Page 13