Page 10 of Trust Fund Baby

I never stood a chance when it came to Roxie King, no matter what had happened between us. I quickly hit the button to reply. Fingers flying over my screen before I could think better of it.

Re: Long time, King

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Figured as much. Some things never change. See you soon, King.

5

Roxie

I knew I was playing with fire and could already smell the smoke of my impending doom. But sometimes, the overwhelming sense of what used to be outweighed the risk. So when Sebastian replied, there was no chance I’d be able to resist. Not when time had dulled the sting. Not when it had blurred what had happened all those years ago that made me swear off Sebastian Whittaker for life. At least, that’s what I thought.

And so here I was, I reading his latest message.

Figured as much. Some things never change. See you soon, King.

See me soon?

“Fucking Seb,” I muttered. His confidence always erred on the side of ego. Who did he think he was to assume he’d see me again?

His green eyes, cocky grin, and tattoos? Nope, saw it once, and that was all I needed.

I definitely hadn’t been wondering if he had more tattoos than the ones on his hands I had caught myself staring at that night in McGuire’s. Or how those green eyes, staring at me so intensely, made my stomach flip. And I definitely hadn’t replayed the moment he’d leaned in, his breath tickling my ear as he whispered about the perfume I still wore every day.

But since the first time I’d ever met Sebastian Whittaker—an eight-year-old that insisted on wearing a full blazer and dress pants outfit every day—I’d never been able to resist him.

Re: Long time, King

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

You are right. Some things never change. You’re just as cocky as you were back then.

Mondays were my day off from the gallery, and I normally spent them either working on a freelance photography piece of my own or rotting on the couch until the sun rose on Tuesday. I’d already popped a bowl of popcorn and poured myself a glass of wine, ready to settle in and watch an episode of my new favorite reality dating guilty pleasure when my phone buzzed.

Hallie:Want to go to Whiskey Locker tonight? Operation “Get Hallie a Date” is a certified failure right now and we need to change that.

I stared at the message. The popcorn and wine felt like they were judging me.

Hallie knew I’d go—because I always did. Even though it was my only day off. Even when I only wanted to watch Adam finally win over Elise and pretend my life wasn’t in a holding pattern, waiting to do something greater than selling someone else’s art.

And part of me wanted to go. If Hallie could land that food critic job at Sophisticate by charming her boss, editor-in-chief of the magazine, Anthea Sparks, it would be a win for both of us.

Hallie’s reviews of NYC’s top restaurants could be a stepping stone toward the two of us eventually working together on our own. Her reviews paired with my photography, showcasing the exquisite dishes, elegant interiors, and vibrant atmospheres of the hottest dining locations with the audience she would build at Sophisticate could be the foundation of our own company. That was the dream.

But tonight, the thought of shouting over terrible music and dodging handsy Ivy League alums who said things like “my dad’s firm” made me want to crawl under my throw blanket and never emerge.

And then there was Sebastian. I saw a new email notification appear at the top of my screen—it felt like he’d been waiting, watching, anticipating my response.

Re: Long time, King

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]