Page 112 of Hate To Be Mine

“Sit out this walk,” I said firmly. “We’ll have Tempest take your spot in the finale. No arguments.”

For once, she didn’t argue. Two weeks ago, she would have. Hell, she would have told me exactly where I could shove my safety concerns. But somewhere between the coconut conversation and the Venus shoot, I’d become part of the team instead of the enemy.

It felt good. Really good.

I wasn’t going to hold out any hope I’d be invited to the Swiss Alps for their little Christmas escape, but that was okay. They were being nice now and that’s what mattered.

I caught movement in my peripheral vision and turned to find Sebastian watching me from across the backstage area. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. He looked absolutely edible. When our eyes met, he smiled—that private smile he saved just for me. He was thinking about me. Naked. Wanting.

“You’re staring at your boyfriend,” Annika whispered in my ear.

“He’s not my—” I started, then stopped. Was he? We hadn’t exactly defined anything. We’d spent the last two nights tangled up in his bed, sure, but we hadn’t talked about what happened after we left. After the campaign ended and real life came crashing back in.

“Honey, that man looks at you like you’re the only person in the room,” Annika continued, pinning a last-minute adjustment on Portia’s dress.

My cheeks heated. “We should focus on the show.”

“The show is perfect because of you.” She patted my arm. “Now go do your safety coordinator thing. And try not to combust when he keeps eye-fucking you from across the room.”

“Annika!”

She just laughed and shooed me away. The woman looked like a doting grandmother, but sometimes the things that came out of her mouth would make a sailor blush.

After a flurry of activity, I heard someone say it was time. I almost clapped and squealed like a damn seal. The music started, a pulsing beat that I felt in my bones, and the first model stepped onto the runway. I positioned myself in the wings where I could see everything: the runway, the backstage area, the crowd.

Everything was running like clockwork. I watched Elizabeth’s designs float down the runway, each one more beautiful than the last. The tropical-inspired pieces we’d photographed looked even better in motion.

The audience loved them. It was a small crowd of exclusive guests, invited personally by Blackwell Couture. I could hear the appreciative murmurs, the gasps when something particularly stunning appeared. Photographers’ cameras clicked like a swarm of mechanical insects.

A realization dawned on me. I had to look up to make sure there wasn’t an actual lightbulb glowing above my head. I was good at this. Not just the safety part—though I was definitely good at that—but being part of something creative and alive. I liked being a part of a team and creating something beautiful together instead of just sitting in an office, looking for reasons to deny people’s claims.

My father’s company had never felt like this. My days were spent focused on the bottom line and nothing else. I’d told myself I liked the structure and the predictability. But the truth was, I’d been slowly dying inside that sterile office. Following my father’s orders had sucked the life out of me.

Sebastian appeared at my elbow, somehow managing to look both relaxed and alert. “Everything good?”

“Perfect,” I said. “Portia twisted her ankle, but it’s minor. Tempest is covering her finale spot.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

I shook my head. “I’m just doing my job.”

“You’re doing it better than anyone I’ve ever seen.” His hand slid down my back and then to my ass. He squeezed and then slapped, causing me to squeak.

“Sebastian!”

“Five minutes to finale!” someone called out.

He disappeared back into the organized chaos.

The finale was breathtaking. Every model walked out in Elizabeth’s designs. The audience was on their feet, applauding and pointing out their favorites. I saw Adrian in the front row, looking at his wife with such pride and love that I had to look away from the intimacy of it.

Then Elizabeth herself stepped onto the runway, and the place went absolutely wild. She was glowing—literally glowing, probably from the pregnancy though only a few of us knew about that. When she reached the end of the runway, she gestured to the wings.

Sebastian joined her on stage and I was pretty sure the room had a collective orgasm. I actually saw a woman fanning herself. The two of them smiled and waved, thanking everyone for coming.

Then Sebastian turned and looked directly at me. He jerked his head, motioning me to join them.

I froze. “What? No.”