by Lyla Payne
Not to mention the fact that Logan Walters refuses to just fade away.
Well, that and that even though she doesn’t despise me the way she will someday, she obviously isn’t drowning in the possibilities of this thing the same way I am. We hardly have a conversation that doesn’t include a reminder that our relationship is terminal, but given how all of this is affecting her family, it’s hard to blame her for counting down.
“Mr. Blair?”
Senator Wright’s assistant pulls me from the totally pointless, meandering thoughts, and I look up, ignoring the appreciative gleam in her bright blue eyes. Hair too in place, skirt a little too short, lips a tad too red—there are a million girls like her in the world, and my interest is waning. “Yes?”
“The senator will see you now.”
I get to my feet and straighten my jacket, then pick up my briefcase and take a deep breath. I’ve been called into Teddy’s office on countless occasions, rarely for anything positive, and the thought of walking into another father’s office—even if he’s not mine—presses the walls in around me.
The senator’s office is nothing like Teddy’s. Instead of thick velvet curtains, books that sit forever unread, and a massive desk, Toby’s father appears to actually work in here. There are papers scattered across the oak desktop and a working computer with a giant screen. Sun streams in through floor-to-ceiling windows and the walls are bare except for framed degrees and awards from his constituents.
There is scotch, though.
“Mr. Blair, it’s nice to meet you. My son seems to think the two of us might benefit from a chat.”
I shake his beefy hand, a little taken aback by the crinkles around his eyes. His face is good-natured and honest, and although I recognize it from television and from my recent research, it comes as something of a surprise to me to learn that he’s not putting on a public face in those instances.
Unless he’s also putting one on now, which would be counterintuitive during a job interview.
He motions to a seat by the windows instead of forcing me to sit on the opposite side of his desk, then settles into the one next to it, crossing his legs. “Tell me a little bit about what kind of work you’re interested in finding after college.”
“I planned to go to law school—I’ll have a double BS in business and public relations when I graduate in a few months—but I think I’d be a great fit in a behind-the-scenes capacity on your campaign. I’d need a full-time job. I would consider part-time if you think it’s important for a member of your staff to have a law degree.”
He raises manicured gray eyebrows. “That won’t be an issue for you?”
“No, sir. I’m at the top of my class.”
He nods, the slightest glint of appreciation in his eyes. “And what do you see yourself doing for me? Toby indicated that your schooling alone might not be the most impressive thing you can offer me.”
Toby’s surprising me. I mean, everyone knows he’s a nice guy, but I honestly didn’t expect him to say anything other than that I’m looking for a job. The trick is going to be explaining my particular area of expertise without sounding like a complete jackass. Or getting arrested.
“Well, I don’t know if you know this, but my father is Teddy Rowland.” He nods, so I move on, gladly. “I’ve been a major shareholder in the company for several years now and am involved in major business decisions as a member of the board of directors. But to be honest, sir, I’ve made a reputation for myself on Whitman’s campus as something of a … fixer. Which is probably what Toby was referring to.”
“And by fixer, you mean …”
“I mean when people have a problem that can’t be solved without a creative solution, they come to me and I figure out how to make it go away.” It’s best to be truthful. No matter how friendly and open the senator seems now, he knows guys like me exist. And he knows that he needs us. “I do what needs to be done so that people can keep living the lives they want. I’m excited about having the opportunity to do the same thing for you, Senator.”
He studies me for a long moment, but my nerves are gone. I meet his gaze, confidence building in my chest. Despite stupid Schneider turning me down, there’s a certainty filling my chest that this is my path. Even if it’s not with Senator Wright, I’ve found my niche.
It’s stunning, in itself, to think that I could have a path of my own that doesn’t exist in Teddy’s shadow.
“You realize that I’d be taking a chance on you, Mr. Blair, and that there would be a trial period. Along with that requirement, people who fill the kind of position you’re describing do not officially work for this campaign. You work directly for me, and right now you’d be working under two other … let’s call them problem solvers already on my team.”
It sounds as though he’s saying I pretty much have the job.
Excitement swirls in my gut, tries to force a smile onto my face, but I ignore the desire. This is no time to get emotional. “I understand, sir. I’d be committed to keeping your good name intact in Washington no matter what the requirements.”
“Very well. I’m going to check some of your references here, but as long as nothing pops up that’s a cause for concern, I’ll say that I look forward to seeing how you turn out, Mr. Blair.”
He stands up and sticks out his hand. I follow his lead, barely able to believe how easy this was. “Thank you, sir. It was very nice to meet you.”
“Sebastian … may I call you Sebastian?” He continues at my curt nod. “I trust my son’s judgment because it’s rarely wrong, and also your candor regarding the way you’ve spent your time at Whitman gives me a good feeling about the mutual benefits of us working together. But I’m not always as a nice as I seem. Which means not only do you have your work cut out for you, but that if you screw up I’ll make sure you never work in Washington again. Capisce?”
“Capisce,” I manage, leaving the office before I take a chance on screwing this up somehow.
I’m not scared of Senator Wright. He’s talking a big game, threatening me, but the guy’s a teddy bear compared to me. Compared to Teddy and Quinn and everyone else who made me.
I can handle him and I can handle myself, and for the first time since my mother walked into my life again, I’m starting to see the faintest pinprick of light at the end of this tunnel paved with my mistakes.
I try calling Audra twice and texting her once on my way to the hospital to check on my mother. The doctors called again today about possibly discharging her, but they need to talk to whoever will be caring for her first.
Technically me, but I wonder what will happen if they find out she doesn’t have anywhere to go but back to a shitty apartment all alone.
The SEA house isn’t exactly mother-friendly, and Teddy would toss us both out of the beach house inside of an hour. There are cameras all over the place. Hell, if there’s one unethical douche on my father’s security staff there are probably sex videos of Quinn and me and half the girls at Whitman on the internet, too.
I tap the icon for Audra’s name one more time but don’t get an answer. I ignore the irritation and worry churning in my belly in equal amounts, both trying to dampen the excitement of the day.
She’s not my real girlfriend, and she’s probably busy or something
Except it feels like more. We’ve barely spoken since I gave her that ring, and she hasn’t stayed over, either, using the excuse of having meetings with the sitting Kappa president about taking over duties.
I shake off the stupid average-boyfriend angst over what that girl is doing when I’m not around and walk into the hospital, trying not to cringe at the smell of death, which always makes me want to roll around in antiseptic. It reminds me of Audra being with me the last time, and how we’d laughed about our shared germophobe issues.
I ignore the memories, but it only makes me wonder how long after May it will take me to dislodge them all—her naked underneath me, the way her green eyes go all gooey after a really good kiss, the way she
rolls her eyes at me when I say something inappropriate. I have buckets full.
My mood blackens further when a text shows up from Logan.
You’re going to regret this.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of replying, but irritation and worry churn in my gut. The guy is dumb enough to do something he shouldn’t—defy me. Normally I’d be confident that I’d come out on top, but now Audra is in the mix and I don’t like having wild cards in the deck.
It will have to be dealt with as soon as I have time to brainstorm the best way to manage him.
My mother’s in the same room, but this time she’s awake when I push open the door. She looks like hell, even more so than usual, with such deep, purple circles under her eyes that she wouldn’t need a costume to go as a corpse for Halloween.
“Sebastian.” Her weak smile spikes my guilt. Then my self-loathing. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”
“I was in North Carolina. For a job interview.” I hadn’t meant to spill the beans about that, not to her. Audra’s the person I want to tell and the fact that she’s not letting me, that she forced me to confide some of the best news of my life to the person who ruined it years ago, starts a slow burn of anger.
“Oh? How did it go?”
“It went fine. Good, I think. It might be just what I need, and it would start right after graduation. We could get you some better care. Maybe even one of those fancy blankets you were wanting.” There’s no way she’s living with me in whatever house or apartment I’m able to afford after moving to DC, but there’s no doubt in my mind that she isn’t going to be able to care for herself much longer. Not if these episodes keep coming.
“That’s wonderful news. You’re a smart boy. I’ve never worried over you figuring it out one day.”
The comment sounds as though she’s been watching me all these years, concerned enough to keep tabs but not enough to rescue me from the megalomaniac who insists on treating me like a second-class citizen.
I’m going to explode if she doesn’t shut the fuck up.
That she thinks I need to hear platitudes is proof enough that she doesn’t know me at all. You’re not going to let her, either, are you?
The voice startles me. It’s not Quinn or my ex-shrink. It’s Audra.
And she’s right.
My chest tightens with the realization that I’m the one causing the anger in my gut. I’m the one clinging to the hurt and humiliation that Teddy bathed me in for the past decade and if Senator Wright gives me the job that lets me move forward, I’m going to have to find a way to let go.
Maybe there’s no real chance for Audra and me—I care about her too much to make her miserable forever. But she wasn’t the reason I started down this path, and she’s not what’s shining at the end.
I look down at my mother and choose to see something different—a woman who made plenty of mistakes and regrets more than a few of them. Even if Teddy’s story was true the whole time it doesn’t mean she’s not sorry. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of her now.
“The interview went well. End of story.”
She gives me a tentative smile, studying my eyes for a few moments before patting my hand. We talk for a while about her options when she leaves and how long it might be before we can make her more comfortable, then I say good-bye and go to find the doctor. I stride out of the room with the most measured pace possible and lean against the wall in the hallway to regain my composure.
It’s not easy, choosing a different way. It’s easier to be angry and distant.
But, I’m starting to think, not better.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Audra
It’s wrong to punish Sebastian for this situation—for the way our fake engagement is pulling apart my family, or the way half of campus whispers when I walk across the quad. It’s wrong to dread going to the annual Rowland Communications charity event tonight because I’ve agreed to be his girlfriend and the appearance is required.
I’m the one who got into this situation with Logan, and Sebastian is getting me out of it. I’m doing it, in the long run, for my family, and I have to remember that he’s done me a huge favor. He’s not asking that much in return and anyway I’m the moron who said we were getting married.
What’s the most wrong is that I think part of me is punishing him for getting too emotionally involved.
Me. I’m upset with Sebastian Blair for having feelings and the courage to express them. It’s like we live in bizarro world, and I, for one, would like to go back to the way things were. At least I understood things then. About Sebastian, sure, but also about myself.
At least I wasn’t afraid all the time.
“You look hot,” Emilie Swanson comments as I wander out of the Kappa house and climb into the back of the waiting limousine. It’s late March now, which means it’s all but summer in South Florida, so both of us are bare-shouldered for the event. Her ruby red gown hugs her body and puts her cleavage on display with as much taste as possible, and she smiles at me with bright red lips.
“Look who’s talking,” I reply, smiling back.
Emilie’s the kind of girl who is impossible not to like, and even though I don’t know her that well, she’s always been nice when we’ve spent time together through Ruby and Cole.
“Do you want a drink, or should we wait for the guys?” The limo pulls away from the curb and ferries us toward the coast, where we’re picking up Quinn and Sebastian at the beach house.
“I’d love a drink.”
I’m guessing that Sebastian isn’t going to be thrilled to see me since I’ve been ignoring his calls for the past several days. I did shoot him a text and say we’d talk tonight and that I’d been super busy, but we both know he’s too smart to buy that crap. And that he’s not used to being ignored.
“Champagne?”
“Bourbon.”
Her perfect eyebrows lurch upward but Emilie doesn’t comment as she selects a bottle of excellent bourbon from the minibar and pours a glass. “Neat?”
“That’s fine.” I take a long pull of the liquor when she hands it over, but even the sweet warmth can’t undo the pain in my belly.
“Everything okay?” Emilie’s not drinking. At least, not yet.
“Yeah. Life’s just a little stressful right now.” Her dark gaze falls to the sparkling emerald on my left ring finger. There’s no way to hide the damned thing, so I work up a wry smile. “Weddings, right?”
“Mmmm. You two have surprised everyone, that’s for sure.”
Her tone remains neutral and she studies me closely, without the judgment that I’m seeing from pretty much everyone else—even Blair’s worried things are going too far. It rushes relief through me to think that maybe Emilie could sympathize. No one supported her feelings for Quinn when she was giving him chance after chance to be less of an asshole, so maybe she does.
The difference between us is that she knew what she wanted.
“I guess you know what that’s like.”
She laughs, delight sparkling in her eyes. “Yes, I surely do. It’s worth it. If you’re in love.”
“So what’s this party going to be like?” I ask, changing the subject.
Her lengthy answer lets me tune out. I ask myself for the millionth time why I’m even wondering what life would be like with Sebastian—really with him. Whether he could ever truly change or if it’s always going to be an act in service of some nefarious greater goal.
Why can’t I get rid of the feelings he stirs inside of me—empathy, understanding, concern, affection, lust? I’m a soup of emotions that I’m afraid to taste. Which makes them pointless, maybe, but still here.
My heart stops beating for a second, oxygen stalling in my lungs at the sight of Sebastian.
An off-white scarf hangs around his neck and matches the cream color of the shirt under his gray tuxedo. Most girls think Quinn’s the better-looking of the half brothers, with his tall, muscular frame, inky hair, and cobalt eyes,
but I couldn’t even tell you what he’s wearing.
Especially not when Sebastian smiles at me.
Worry does glitter in his gaze but there’s no anger coming off him. Relief and something else—appreciation—washes through me as they climb into the back of the car. He slips an arm around my waist and nuzzles into my neck for half a breath.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
My hand reaches over, grabbing on to his knee on instinct—maybe to stop from literally swooning in front of other people. There’s no doubt that Sebastian’s innate power, his command over a room and the way he demands attention without having to ask for it, is a heady, sexy elixir. I want him. I want to be with him, want to think about a world where we extend past the first of May.
“Thank you.”
When my gaze focuses, I notice Emilie and Quinn watching us with interested expressions. As though we’re bugs in a jar or something.
“I wish I had been able to talk to you the past couple of days. I have some news.”
The sentence, a reminder of what news he didn’t share previously, leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I shoot a glance toward the other couple before deciding it will be better to talk about this now with an audience of two as opposed to a whole party. And normal couples fight, right?
“You mean about the job interview you didn’t tell me about?”
He jerks, hand tightening on my waist. “Who told you about that?”
“Does it matter?” My throat hurts, idiot emotions rising up at the least opportune moment, as always. “Obviously you didn’t want me to know.”
“And that hurts your feelings… .” he says slowly, as though trying to figure out a puzzle with only half of the pieces.
It sounds dumb when he says it like that, like I have no right to think my boyfriend would tell me about important life events when they happen. If I were really his girlfriend, he probably would have told me. But I’m not, and maybe that bothers me more than I want to admit.