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Sebastian
I’ve not been able to concentrate on work at all, which is bad because I’ve got a shitload to do. Reports with the latest sales figures are strewn all over my desk, and a meeting is scheduled with my executive team for later today. It’s Monday and I usually hit the ground running and get a head start on the week.
But every time I try to focus, flashbacks of the night with Nathalie take over. I still feel her hands on my dick, and my mind plays dangerous tricks on me.
What if we sleep together but keep it casual?
Even as I think it, I know it’s madness. It’ll never work. I’m not the casual lover type, and besides, if Grandfather finds out I’m sleeping with the nanny, he’ll go fucking mental. He’s big on us upholding the standards we have for our employees, and we’re not supposed to get any special treatment.
But the sexy, delirious thoughts keep coming, and I’m helpless to stop them.
Would Nat even agree to continue the arrangement, or am I losing it?
She was the one who came back downstairs and suggested it, so perhaps she would. Maybe she was being straight with me when she said she’s not looking for anything more.
It could be true, but I find it unlikely.
I’m aware that could be my ego talking. As one of the most eligible single men in London, I’m used to being regarded as the ultimate catch, so it’s a novel idea for me to consider that she doesn’t want me long-term.
Ha…
I sit at my desk and flick through the reports, but I may as well be elsewhere. Her cornflower blue eyes told me how much she wanted me, so it’s hard to know the truth. I trust her though. That much I do know. Trusting her with Daisy was the ultimate test, and she’s passed with flying colours every step of the way.
The image of how she sucked me on the landing rushes into my mind and I harden in my suit trousers. This wanting her all the time is like an addiction, and you’d think a night with her would have given me some relief, but I only want her more. I push my chair away from the desk and stand up and pace back and forth in my office.
Like I said—not much is getting done today. The Cannes hotel opening needs attention, and that’s what the exec meeting is about later, so I must get my head together.
She’s monopolising my every thought and I ache for her again. The problem with my feelings for her is, it’s not just sex. If it was just sex, I could fuck her out of my system and move on, but it’s so much more than that.
For the rest of the day, I discipline myself to focus on work and not think about Nathalie. But I’m fighting a losing battle because she’sallI can think about. No matter what I do, she’s in every thought, somewhere. The more I try not to think about her, the more the images of her spin into my mind, like video reels playing over and over. And even when I’m not consciously thinking about her, my senses are overloaded by her touch.
This is ridiculous. I’m going to have to handle this, or it will become a real problem. Maybe if we sleep together for a while, we’ll tire of each other, I reason. And on and on the thoughts go, whirring through my head and driving me insane.
I’m fucking obsessed.
I shake my head as if I can clear the fogginess from my brain.
After lunch, my assistant opens the door and says a letter has arrived for me. She places it on my desk, and I recognise my grandfather’s writing. That’s just what I need. I often tease him, he’s the only man in England still writing his mail by hand. I quickly tear it open, apprehensive about what he deems so important he has to put it in writing. Greystone family dinner invitations rarely come in the mail and my heart rattles as I extract the sheet of my grandfather’s embossed notepaper and scan his words:
Dearest Sebastian,
You’re doing the right thing, my boy. I know things haven’t been easy, and I want you to know I’m proud of you for honouring your family duty. John Archer told me Lizzy had a wonderful time at dinner, and she is looking forward to seeing you again.
An invitation to accompany you to Cannes will be the ideal next step in getting to know her better before we discuss details of the engagement.
Your loving grandfather,
And he signed off with an impressive flourish, as if he didn’t just obliterate my world. My throat feels dry, and I can barely swallow as I reach for a glass of water.
Details of the engagement.
This is all going too fast. Lizzy and I came up with the beginnings of a plan where we said we will keep the pretence going so everyone thinks we’re dating seriously. She’s a smart cookie, and said that if we’re seeing each other, it will put a stop to our grandfathers’ matchmaking. Lizzy said she can’t bear to date a string of candidates he’s picked out for her, and this way we can nip it in the bud.
By the time we left the restaurant, I’d made a snap decision to go along with her plan and I told her I agreed and would be in touch.
But I haven’t been able to make myself move forward with it and still haven’t replied to Lizzy’s latest text. She’s lovely, and her plan makes perfect sense, but I hate it.
Fortunately, my antics don’t capture the press’s attention like Damian’s do, and apart from a brief mention in one of the social columns about my dinner with Lizzy at the high-profile restaurant, I haven’t spotted any more coverage.
