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Sebastian puts his hands in his pockets, and he tilts his jaw, clearly agitated.
I open the door in a rush, brush past him, and I march down the hall.
Why is that feeling still there between us when it’s been years?
We are finished.
Done.
I walk into the bathroom, slam the door shut behind me, and then I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My heart is racing, and my face is flushed.
Fuck!
I need to get a handle on these hormones. I shouldn't want him. I don't want him.
I stare at my lying face, I hate that I do.
I lie in bed and pretend to watch a rerun of some crap detective show.
I went to bed early to try and catch up on some sleep, and yet here I am, still tuned in to the television.
My mind is on all things Sebastian Garcia.
I know that I'm wrong—I’m under no disillusions—but I have this ridiculous feeling that, underneath all the bullshit, he's a good man. But how I know it's not true, how could it be true when he's treated me so appallingly?
My mind keeps going over my meeting with Helena, his ex-wife, and I wonder what he saw in her. She just doesn't seem like the kind of woman that he would like at all. I can't imagine him and her together. It's just… I don't know.
That’s the thing: I don't know anything anymore. I guess, once upon a time, I couldn't imagine myself being without my ex-husband either. Yet, here I am.
My phone beeps with a text. It’s from Sebastian.
I'm thinking about you.
Shit.
My heart drops. Why is he thinking about me?
Worse still, why am I thinking about him?
This man is an asshole. He's treated me so badly. It makes me sick. I turn my phone off and throw it onto the bedside table.
He doesn’t want me. He wants the last say, that’s all.
I feel anxious, and worse than that, I feel an attachment for man that I shouldn't have. I keep defending him to myself in my mind, and I know I shouldn’t be.
Get out of my head, Mr. Garcia.
I sit in the backseat of the car as the driver drives us toward the city. We've been out visiting clients all day and I'm exhausted.
Bart's phone rings. "Hi, Sebastian."
My eyes flick over to him.
"Yes, sure," he replies casually. "We'll be right over. We can swing by now." He hangs up. "Just call into Downing Street please," he says to the driver,
The driver turns left. "Sure”.
"We'll only be there for fifteen minutes. We've got to pick up some programs we need to run through the security settings. I want to work on them over the weekend." Bart looks at me. "We can drop them back on Monday. Don't forget, April, that we leave on Monday afternoon for three nights."
"I'm looking forward to it." I smile. "Where did you say we were going again?"
"We're going on the campaign trail."
"The campaign trail?" I frown.
"Yes, you know, as the acting crisis management team."
I stare at him, deadpan. "We're going away with Sebastian Garcia?"
"That's right. There will be about twenty-five of us in total. Sebastian has press releases that we need to check. Especially now with the Theodore issue. We will be traveling with them over the next six weeks, right up to the election."
I fake a smile.
Great. Just great.
This is a nightmare waiting to happen.
As the car drives into the parking lot, I feel a little bit more of my confidence subside. Sebastian Garcia brings out the weakling in me.
I hate that about him.
Twenty minutes later, we are walking down the corridor and we make it to Sebastian's floor.
I don't want to see him today; I just don't.
"I've got some emails that I need to get to," I say. "I might just stay out of today's visit, if that's okay?"
"Of course." Bart walks down toward the office. "I won't be long."
I take a seat at a desk in one of the waiting rooms. I open my computer and get to work on my emails. Not five minutes later, I notice someone standing at the door. I look up to see Sebastian.
"What are you doing?" he asks in his deep, sexy voice.
"I'm working." I look back at my computer.
"Why aren't you coming into our meeting?"
"I have other more important things to get to today."
"Like what?"
I try and think of something without sounding pathetic.
"I'm having trouble with my software. It's not working for me." That's not a total lie. I am having trouble with a few things.
He pushes his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket and walks into the office.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. " I find that hard to believe," he says.
I look up and frown at him. "What do you mean?"
"I happen to know that your software is the best there is."
