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Suddenly the sheets flew off my body and Sebastian's voice was closer, gentler. "We have a problem. I need you to get up. I already called room service and your coffee should be here any minute now."
I hummed. Coffee sounded good. I could handle most crises if I had coffee in hand.
I rubbed my eyes, shielding them from the sun as Sebastian drew back the curtains. The pitch-black room now drenched in light.
We'd fallen asleep late. After my shower, Sebastian rinsed off and joined me in bed. Our lovemaking was slow, as if he wanted to savor every minute of it. He wasn't frantic or rushed.
It was perfect.
And things were decidedly not perfect now.
I wonder what’s wrong now.
After some internal encouragement, I rolled out of bed. My feet carried me into the living room of the suite. I took the nearest chair in the small kitchen. "How bad is it?"
"It's not that bad." Beck's assessment.
Sebastian grunted. Clearly he didn't agree. I did a gimme motion with my hand. "Tell me."
He opened his mouth to talk when Beck stepped forward.
"It seems your friend from last night snapped a photo of you and Sebastian as you walked away. It's circulating all over social media and people now have your location. My guy spotted some paparazzi downstairs near the lobby. One was dumb enough to ask the front desk people which room you were in," the head of security explained.
"Jesus." I shivered. My eyes found Sebastian's. "I assume we're leaving."
"Yes."
I tapped my fingernails on the table. "I see we are back to using cryptic, incomplete sentences."
Someone knocked. "Room service."
Beck was already on the move, checking the peephole. Seemingly satisfied, he opened the door. "I'll take it from here."
"But, sir, it's customary for us to set the table for our guests."
"We'll handle it," Beck said, shutting the door closed.
I approached the cart, filling a mug to the brim with coffee. "Let me drink this, then I'll pack."
Our billionaire security guard lifted his phone. "Let me call my guys."
FORTY-ONE
FAITH
"What do you think of the new design?" Luna asked the second we sat down on Sebastian’s terrace.
She had insisted on coming over the minute she found out we were back in New York City. For security purposes, Beck wanted us to stay at Sebastian's place while they checked out a lead upstate even though Constance insisted she and Willow were doing well and nobody had tried to stop by the property.
Apparently, the fact that my gallery show was only a few days away didn’t concern anyone. I thought cutting the Vegas trip short would give me more time to get back to work. Being so close yet so far away from my paint set started to rattle my nerves, my stomach souring at the negative thoughts taking residence in my head. It was like an endless loop of worries up there.
At least I didn’t have to worry about Harrison. He shooed us away, insisting we leave Vegas immediately. I would never forgive myself if I ruined Sebastian’s chances with Harrison.
He didn’t even need all the details. I overheard his quick conversation with Sebastian and from what I gleaned, the paparazzi had already descended upon the hotel and were stationed at various places near the entrances and exits, hoping to catch a shot of me.
It all felt like overkill since I’d grown up in the spotlight. Hell, for many years I loved seeing my face plastered on the magazines in the bodega.
That all seemed like a lifetime ago. The before times.
