Page 120 of Brutal Heir

I loved how I was part of a process that dated back to the earliest trading days of society, where people from different regions communicated in elementary ways to trade glass beads and polished bones.

Sebastian introduced me as the newest member of the stylist team.

Florian, the Creative Director, half rose and bowed his head in greeting. If he was angered by Sebastian’s unilateral decision to hire me, he didn’t show it.

Not everyone was as gracious; the hostile looks directed at me were hard to miss.

Sebastian’s whore.

The unspoken accusation like a flashing red sign over my head.

My cheeks burned with humiliation.

When it became too much, I shifted my seat back.

Ignoring the person speaking, Sebastian asked, “Where are you going?”

My cheeks burned brighter under the heightened attention. “I was just going to get a pen and pad.”

He set his pen on a leather portfolio pad and slid them across the table. “Use mine.”

Murmuring a soft “thank you,” I scooted my chair back under the table. The pen warm and heavy in my hand, its elegant calligraphy tip exuding authority.

The meeting continued, covering supply chain management, labor, and the current pricing market. When the discussion changed to marketing efforts for the upcoming holiday season, I sat up straighter. This was my realm.

“As you know, in the new year, we will be launching our new lab-created diamond initiative. Florian, I want Sabrina in charge of the campaign photo shoots. Tell marketing that she will be their direct liaison.”

Audible gasps rippled around the table.

The House of Diamanti, the world’s largest diamond supplier, entering the controversial lab-created diamond market was seismic news.

And Sebastian had just placed me in charge of its aesthetic direction.

“Sebastian, I don’t think I should—” I began.

“Are you questioning my authority on the matter, Signora Badalamenti?” He raised an eyebrow.

I licked my lips. “No, of course not, sir.”

“Good. If there are no other objections, meeting adjourned.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

As everyone rose, Florian approached me with a stiff smile.

“Signora Badalamenti, if you will follow me to the third floor, I’ll show you our offices and look into getting you a desk.”

“Thank you. That would be⁠—”

“Signora Badalamenti’s office will be here on the fifth floor—next to mine,” Sebastian interjected.

Florian’s shoulders tightened. Several staff members paused, their gazes darting between us.

My eyes widened, praying for the floor to open and swallow me whole.

Tilting his chin up, Florian’s smile remained tight. “Very well. If you would be so kind as to join me in my office, I’ll introduce you to the support staff.”

I moved to follow him, but Sebastian’s hand on my upper arm restrained me.