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I paced the polished herringbone floors of the hall and examined the framed photos on the wall. There were several of Rebecca throughout her childhood: horseback riding, ballet, baking competitions, and Model UN—a graduation photo from Brown University. Rebecca was a talented and well-rounded woman, but right now, she was pissing me off.
My phone chimed, and I nearly exploded when I saw the text—a photo of Rebecca, her friend Jasmine, and two men in a booth. The tanned blonde man had his hand on Rebecca’s thigh. Their glassy eyes told me they’d been drinking. I tightened my grip on the phone and forced myself to calm down.
Sebastian:Where are you? Who the fuck are those guys?
A moment later, she responded—a pic of her flipping me off.
The red sequined dress clung to her curves, causing my cock to stir. The thin straps strained against her full breasts. There was nothing like sucking the nipples of big natural tits.
Her blonde hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, and a slight flush covered her round cheeks. My eyes lingered on her full cupid-bow, pink mouth. I closed my eyes and inwardly moaned at the thought of those pink lips wrapped around my dick.
I blinked—no time to let lust cloud my mind. I zoomed in on the photo, noting the logo on the napkin on the table—the Delphi Lounge.
Within minutes, I called Albert and heard the sound of his car idling in the driveway.
No one stands me up.
Chapter 2
Becca
“Doyouthinkthephotos were too much?” I asked Jasmine as we touched up our make-up in the restroom's lounge.
“Hell, no. He needs to know that he has competition, regardless of the arrangement.” Jasmine slurred.
Like all great love stories, the arrangement boiled down to money. Sebastian was new money. He had mountains of cash, but needed more prestige to grant him access to Boston’s upper echelons of society.
My father was desperate to save his crumbling media empire. So, he cut Sebastian a deal and offered him the one thing Sebastian didn’t have—a family name that first showed up onThe Mayflower.
When my father first told me the idea, I was appalled. But Cavanaugh’s are business people to our core, so he sweetened the deal for me, too, saying that if I agreed to marry Sebastian, he would front me the money to graduate early and secure a space for my own bakery.
I hated the idea of being someone’s wife, but I wanted a bakery more. The day after I said yes, he helped me scout locations for The Cookie Cove: 2,000 square feet of sweet, sweet innovation.
I wanted to celebrate tonight. Jasmine knew her way around a frat party. Tonight, we both went a little overboard.
I leaned against the porcelain sink. “I think,” I paused, my eyes darting over to Jasmine, “I’m drunk.”
“Oh my God, you don’t say!” Jasmine slurred.
I glanced around the opulent bathroom, inexplicably furnished with a plush leather settee. The room was accented with elegant gold and bronze sconces, which were starting to spin. Several full-length mirrors lined the walls, occupied by several other women in various states of tipsiness. One girl sank onto the sofa, clutching her stomach.
Jasmine and I left the restroom and returned to the booth where Chad and his friends waited. They’d ordered us a fresh bottle of champagne.
“Hey guys,” Jasmine began, sliding into Jay’s lap, “Becca and I are going to call it a night.”
“No way! The birthday bubbly’s here!” Chad poured me a glass, and I took a sip.
“Stay and have one more dance. Make your boyfriend jealous.”
I giggled. “I already did with the pics I sent him a little while ago.”
He pulled me against his chest. Chad was not as tall or muscular as Sebastian, but he was still sexy. “One last kiss,” he begged.
He stared at me with glassy blue eyes. I was sure I looked similarly spacey.
He pressed his lips to mine, and I dug my hands into his dirty blonde hair, deepening our kiss. His hands drifted over my ass, but I didn’t care. I wanted to feel desired, and Chad fit the bill.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Sebastian snarled.
