Page 2 of Hate To Be Mine

“This isn’t just another photoshoot where you show up, look pretty, and go home,” Adrian said. “We’re talking millions of dollars. Elizabeth’s first major line under the EL label. The reputation of Blackwell Couture. Not to mention our relationship with the Miratoan government, which was hard enough to establish in the first place.”

Elizabeth reached over and squeezed Adrian’s hand, which seemed to soften him slightly. “What Adrian means is that we’re all counting on you. This is important for all of us.”

“Oh, wow, I had no idea this was important,” I said sarcastically. “I don’t need a lecture guys. I’ve got this.”

Briggs arched an eyebrow. Just one. He had the unique ability to control every muscle in his face. “Last week you were photographed leaving that club at four in the morning with two⁠—”

“Three,” Dash interjected helpfully.

Briggs frowned. “Three models hanging off you.”

“First of all, it was one model and her two friends, who were not models.” I stopped, realizing this wasn’t helping my case. “Look, that’s not the point. I’m focused. I’m ready.”

Mom had been quiet through this exchange. “Sebastian, darling, we’re not trying to attack you. We’re just worried. This is the first major project you’ve been in charge of since your father passed. We’re just looking for some concrete reassurance that you have this properly handled.”

Bringing up Dad was a low blow. Since it was Mom, I wouldn’t go on the attack. We were all still dealing with his death in our own way. It had been over a year since his fatal heart attack. A year since I had gotten that call that changed everything.

Adrian had thrown himself into work, becoming even more serious and controlled, determined to be the rock Dad had been. Briggs had doubled down on the legal side, making sure every contract was airtight. Dash had taken over the operations side of things, making sure everything continued to run smoothly while we worked on growing the company.

And me? I’d indulged in life’s pleasures.

“I can handle it,” I said quietly. “I know you all think I’m just some airhead model who can’t tie his own shoes, but trust me, I know how to do this.”

“We don’t think that,” Elizabeth said quickly.

“I’ve been on hundreds of shoots. I know how they work. And this one means something to me. I want to prove that I’m more than just…” I gestured vaguely at myself. “This. You guys need to stop acting like I’m just a pretty face with killer abs and a huge… ego.”

I glanced over at Mom. Everyone knew what I was about to say. Including her. She raised four boys. She wasn’t a newbie to our raunchy humor. But I did try to keep it clean around her. We all did.

“Then prove it,” Adrian said. “We’re trusting you, Sebastian. We’re all trying to step up, to honor what Dad built. We want to make sure we can pass this legacy on to the next generation of Blackwells. We need you to step up too.”

I swallowed a retort that burned to be free. You want me to prove I can handle this? Why don’t you prove that you trust me? “I will. I promise. No shenanigans that’ll mess things up with the Miratoans. No drama. Just good, solid work.”

“And keep it in your pants,” Dash added. “Seriously, man. We don’t need to discover a whole clan of little Sebastians running around Miratoa in twenty years.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “Sounds kind of fun.”

Mom groaned. “I’ll check on dinner.”

Everyone was laughing, but I still felt the tension. They were giving me a chance, but it was clear they weren’t entirely convinced I wouldn’t screw it up.

“There’s one more thing,” Briggs said, pulling out his phone and scrolling through something. “You have a meeting in three days with the insurance company rep.”

I frowned. “Insurance company rep?”

“The policy we had to take out for the shoot is extensive,” he explained. “We’re talking multi-million-dollar coverage for equipment, talent, the venue, and potential liability issues. We also had to cover our ass in case of weather events. The insurance company is sending someone to oversee the shoot and make sure we’re following proper safety procedures, and that we’re in compliance with local laws and regulations. Miratoa only agreed to let us shoot there if we promised to follow specific guidelines.”

“You mean the insurance company is sending a babysitter,” I said flatly.

“It’s someone to help ensure everything goes smoothly.”

“I don’t need help,” I protested. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“This is different,” Adrian said. “You’re not just modeling. You’re running the entire production. There are models, photographers, lighting crews, wardrobe people, makeup artists, and equipment worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Not to mention we’re filming in an environmentally protected area with strict regulations. One wrong move and the Miratoan government will shut us down entirely. We donated a significant amount to their environmental protection agencies just to get permission for this.”

“Which is why the insurance is so important,” Briggs added. “And why they want someone on site. It’s standard for a project of this scale. Think of her as an asset.”

“More like an asshole, am I right, guys?” I looked around hopefully. “Guys? No one? Comedy is wasted on you people.”