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Long dark lashes frame his blue-grey eyes, and my heart cracks open a tiny bit more. Each time we are close, I feel him infiltrating my fragile heart. A man shouldn’t even be allowed to have such long eyelashes. It seems grossly unfair. I have to coat my fair lashes with expensive black mascara to get them anywhere near that length and thickness.
‘Nathalie?’ he says, smiling. ‘Earth to Nathalie.’
My stomach churns and crashes like a drunken rollercoaster.
What the hell is he doing to me? Sebastian clearly has no idea of the effect he has on me when he lavishes me with this kind of personal attention and makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. He lights me up and I radiate with an inner glow whenever he’s near me.
Charming but dangerous. He should come with a health warning.
Do not come near if you don’t want to get burnt.
‘It’ll do you good to get out,’ he says, flicking on the coffee machine and throwing an appealing glance in my direction. ‘You said you want to see more of London, so here’s your chance. Mayfair is in the heart of the West End.’
‘But won’t we just be in a hotel?’ I ask, spreading butter on bread to make Daisy’s sandwiches, just how she likes them.
He raises one eyebrow. ‘Well, yes, but not justanyhotel—it’s at our London Rochester Hotel.’
He’s next to me again now and his masculine scent is like a drug, pervading all my senses, and my thinking grows fuzzy.
‘Why are you making sandwiches now, by the way?’ he asks, peering curiously over my shoulder and brushing lightly against my arm.
The heat of his body surges right through me.
‘Mrs Johnson isn’t coming in tomorrow. She has a family event, remember?’
‘Oh yes,’ he says, clapping his hand to his forehead. ‘Forgot about that.’
The house is unusually quiet. The staff has gone home, and Daisy’s tucked up in bed after a bath and a bedtime story. It’s rare for us to have a moment alone like this, and it feels dangerous. Or more accurately, I feel reckless.
‘They look fantastic. May I have one?’ he says, eyeing up the tuna and mayonnaise triangles.
I nod. ‘Okay. I can make more if you want. Thought I’d make them now to get a head start for the morning.’
He leans nonchalantly against the kitchen island, devouring one of the freshly cut sandwiches.
‘I bet you were the kind of kid who ate your school sandwiches before lunch time.’ I focus on keeping my hands steady, as though I’ve been hanging out with smoking hot billionaire-heirs in the kitchen for most of my life.
‘I’m sure I would have been, if I had taken a packed lunch, but I went to boarding school.’
Of course.
‘How was it?’ I ask, neatly cutting more sandwiches and popping them into a lunch bag for Daisy.
‘It was alright, most of the time. But I missed home.’
‘I meant the sandwich!’
He laughs. ‘Oh! Tasty.’
‘I can’t even imagine sending my kid to boarding school,’ I blurt out without thinking. I don’t mean to offend him and sound judgemental about his parents’ choices and I wish I could take the words back. But it’s too late now, so I raise my eyes tentatively to his.
‘Ahh, it wasn’t too bad,’ he sighs. ‘Toughened me up, I guess. Although, I wouldn’t choose it for Daisy, that’s for certain. But it’s a different world now. All my siblings went to boarding school and seem to have come out of it alright.’
‘Was it like in the British movies?’ I ask.
He smirks and rolls his eyes. ‘Well, it wasn’t like Hogwarts! In what way do you mean?’
‘You know, the British upper-class school system where you get bullied and humiliated by the other boys.’
