Page 100 of Hate To Be Mine

SEBASTIAN

Iwoke up feeling like I’d been hollowed out from the inside. Hadn’t slept more than an hour, maybe two, my mind replaying Bernadette’s words on an endless loop. Her little line about picking up later stank of bullshit. It was her way of ending things.

I knew it as well as I knew my own name. I had used that line myself. It was the gentle fuck-off.

I think I would have preferred she told me to just fuck off straight up.

But I couldn’t wallow in self-pity all morning. I had shit to do. Just because my heart had been cut out, it didn’t mean I got to sit back and watch all my hard work go down the drain. I was going to make damn sure the runway show was amazing. I wanted the whole damn world talking about it until next season. We would be livestreaming it, since we couldn’t exactly bring everyone to the island. Livestreaming was just another element to worry about.

Worry was good. Worry was a distraction. Bernadette wasn’t the only one facing major issues at work. If I couldn’t get the girl, I could at least finish strong with this project.

I dragged myself out of bed and looked out the window. “What the hell?”

The sky was bruised, with dark purple and gray clouds rolling in from the ocean. Storm weather. The kind that shut down productions and canceled shows and cost millions of dollars.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect. I was sure my brothers would blame this on me too.

I checked my phone. Weather alerts. Messages from the crew asking if we were still on schedule. A group text from my brothers about contingency planning.

Nothing from Bernadette. I put my phone away.

I knew the storm was a possibility, but last I checked, it was supposed to move south of us. Once again, Mother Nature had other plans.

I took a quick three-minute shower, brushed my teeth because no one deserved to smell whatever was happening in my mouth. I pulled on clothes and headed outside, not sure where I was going, just needing to move. Needing to do something other than sit in my bungalow and think about how spectacularly I’d messed things up with Bernadette. I had risked everything and all it did was push her away from me.

With a sigh, I refocused. I needed to find out what the officials were expecting in terms of the storm. Would it hit us? Was it going to cause flooding? Power outages? All important elements when trying to plan a runway show.

Not surprisingly, word about the fight had spread. Of course it had. This was a tight-knit crew. Everyone knew everything. And it wasn’t exactly a private situation. I had hit him in front of God and everybody.

And I wasn’t sorry.

Crew members stared as I passed. Some whispered. Some avoided eye contact entirely, suddenly finding their shoes fascinating.

I felt their judgment like a physical weight. The irresponsible playboy who’d proven everyone right. Who’d let his dick—or in this case, his heart—compromise the entire production.

But they didn’t know real feelings were involved. They just assumed I was being a territorial asshole. They thought it was just me being a selfish prick and wanting the beautiful woman to myself. Kind of funny no one thought she was beautiful until I put her in that Venus shoot. I was the one that saw through the severe looks and her attempts to be invisible.

I ended up behind the bungalows, pacing back and forth, trying to breathe through what felt suspiciously like a panic attack.

“Sebastian?”

I turned to find Elizabeth approaching, a bag of taro chips in her hand. She offered them to me without a word.

I took them gratefully, shoving a handful into my mouth.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Everything’s a mess,” I said through the chips. “The crew is terrified of me, Bernadette won’t talk to me, and to top it all off, there’s a damn storm coming that might destroy the runway show. So yeah, I’m great.”

“I’m not asking about work. I’m asking how you’re holding up.”

I stopped pacing, looked at her. “I think I’m having a mini panic attack. What does that feel like? My chest feels weird. I can’t breathe right. Like I feel like there is a brick on my chest.”

“Okay.” She guided me to sit on a low wall. “Breathe with me. In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

We breathed together. The tightness in my chest slowly eased.

“Better?” she asked.