Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
My mouth goes dry. "Have you been stalking me?"
"I watch what interests me." His gaze drops to my mouth. "And you've interested me for a very long time. And it's not stalking if I have a legit reason to be where you are."
Sebastian hands me a steaming mug, and I take a sip, my mind whirling at how much I haven't noticed. I mean, I knew Sebastian liked to push my buttons, but him watching me to know those things? Wow. No one has ever found me that interesting before, at least not interesting enough to take note of what I like and what I don't.
I follow him down the hall, Sockrates trotting beside me. The master suite is massive, with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the living area. A king-sized bed dominates the space, draped in charcoal gray linens.
Sebastian indicates a door to the right. "Bathroom's through there. I cleared half the closet for you."
Half the closet turns out to be larger than my entire bedroom at the apartment. I'm hanging up a blouse when I notice several shopping bags on a shelf.
"What are these?" I pull one down and just stare. It's from a high-end lingerie store.
Sebastian leans against the doorframe. "Just some things I thought you might like. You don't have to wear them because honestly, I'd prefer you walking around naked."
"You perv."
"Can't blame a husband for trying."
Husband. God, why does that sound so good?
I peek inside. Silk pajamas in my exact size, delicate lace bras, panties. And the weirdest thing is these are exactly what I would buy for myself.
"How do you know my size?"
He smirks. "I already told you. I pay very close attention."
My phone rings before I can process that. Anya's name flashes on the screen.
"Maddy, tell me you're not working," she says without preamble when I answer.
"I'm not. Just moving in."
"Good. Because we've fed all the stories to the media, and you need to look blissfully in love. You're on mandatory honeymoon until then."
Sebastian, who can clearly hear both sides of the conversation, plucks the phone from my hand. "She's busy for the next few days, Anya. I'm taking her to the cabin."
"What cabin?" I mouth at him.
"Perfect," Anya replies. "Romantic getaway photographs, social media updates, the works. Make it convincing."
"Won't be a problem." Sebastian ends the call and hands the phone back. "Pack for four days. We leave tomorrow morning."
"Were you planning to consult me on this cabin trip? Why am I just learning about this?"
He brushes a curl from my forehead, his touch gentler than I'd expect from hands that have broken noses in hockey fights. "I own a cabin by the lake. Private, secure. No cameras, no interviews, no pressure. Just us."
Just us. The phrase echoes in my head, thrilling and terrifying.
"The agreement was for public appearances. Not private getaways, and Anya wanted romantic photos."
Sebastian steps closer, backing me against the closet shelf. "The agreement was to make everyone believe we're madly in love. You think we can sell that without actually spending time together?"
His logic is sound. His proximity is not. I can't think straight with him this close.
"Fine, but I'm bringing work."
"No, you're not." His hands settle on my hips. "You're on your honeymoon, Mrs. Clay."
The name sends another shock through me. Mrs. Clay. Sebastian's wife. My new reality.
"This is just an arrangement," I whisper, needing to remind myself as much as him. "For appearances."
Sebastian's thumb traces my lower lip, just like this morning. "Keep telling yourself that, baby. Maybe eventually you'll believe it."
The scary part is, I'm starting to think I don't want to.
5
SEBASTIAN
The cabin was exactly what we needed. Four days of just us—swimming in the lake, making love on every surface, watching her read on the porch wrapped in blankets while I brought her coffee. Four perfect days where I memorized every curve and dip of her body, every expression on her face. I didn't think it was possible to fall deeper, but I did.
Now, back in the penthouse, I watch her unpack our bags, humming softly to herself. Hair pulled up in a messy bun, wearing nothing but my hockey shirt. Sockrates follows her around the bedroom, occasionally nudging her leg for attention.
He's always by her side now. I've no doubt if I ask him to choose, he would go for her. Little traitor.
"You're doing that thing again," she says without looking up.
"What thing?"
"Staring at me like you're peeling my clothes off one by one."
I move behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and press my lips to her neck. "I like staring at you. It's a game I liked to play these past few years. Stare at you and look away quickly before you catch me."
"You're so obsessed with me."
"I am and not ashamed to admit it."
Her phone vibrates on the dresser. Then mine. Then hers again. And again.