Page 25 of Ruthless Billionaire Daddy

My heart lurched.

“Temporary?”

He nodded. “Once we’re sure you're one hundred percent safe, and we’ve accomplished whatever goals we have for the company as a couple, we can quietly divorce and go our separate ways. You can even launch your own event planning company, bigger and better this time.”

I leaned back and thought about everything Sebastien said. I had to admit it, I did need help. But from Sebastien?

“Why should I trust you? You were mean to me when we were kids, and now that I’m working for you, you’ve only gotten worse. Why would I enter a marriage, even temporarily, to suffer under your hands? It’s not like you're suddenly going to be nice to me. Either way, it appears I’m screwed.”

I caught the confused look on his face when I glanced over at him.

“What do you mean, I was mean to you as kids? All Dean and I ever did was pull a few pranks on you. That’s what kids do.”

A hollow laugh escaped my mouth. “When youandDean pulled pranks, it was done in the privacy of our home. But when it was just you alone”—my voice grew louder, sharper—“you took things to another level. Like when you hooked a fake snake to my skirt, and when I fell, my skirt flipped up. Or how about the time you gave me some of your soda and it was mixed with chili pepper? Or my personal favorite,” I continued icily, “when you made me believe that David Fletcher had a crush on me and had sent the note asking me to the dance. You bastard!”

Then I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight to stop the avalanche of tears from falling. My voice cracked. “The only friend I had was Dean, and when you became his friend, I thought…maybe…we’d be friends too.”

Sebastien placed his hand on mine. His voice was soft as he spoke.

“Delilah, I never realized how much my pranks affected you. I only saw them as a way to get a few laughs. I never meant to hurt you. You always laughed at them, so I thought they were okay. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was an asshole. Please, forgive me.”

I looked at Sebastien. He was right, though; I always did laugh at his pranks, but not because I liked them. It was because I was too embarrassed to react any other way. But I saw the sincerity of the apology in his eyes.

I squeezed his hand and opened my eyes. “I forgive you, but the verdict's still out on you being an asshole.” I inhaled. “I know I’m not in any position to be making demands…”

“But you’re going to make one anyway,” Sebastien stated.

I nodded. “If I’m going to do this marriage thing, you’re going to stop talking down on me and treating me like trash. And I’ll still work for you and pay you back every penny of Dean’s debt so that when we do get divorced, I’ll leave with a clean slate. Deal?”

“Those were four demands.” The corners of Sebastien’s mouth tugged into a small smile.

I rolled my eyes, removed my hand from his and extended it. “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

He shook my hand and then fished into his pocket for his phone.

“Now that we have that settled, let me call the doctor to check your shoulder and head.”

I rolled my injured shoulder backwards slowly. “I don’t think my shoulder is that bad. And my head has stopped spinning, it just hurts. Nothing two painkillers can’t fix.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, putting the phone to his ear, “but to be on the safe side, I’m calling anyway.”

Forty-five minutes later, Dr. Gina St. Claire had examined my shoulder and head and was writing me a prescription for heavy painkillers.

“Ice your shoulder twice a day for a week, and you don’t have a concussion, so you’ll be fine. Use these meds only if you have pain. And if you feel as though the pain has gotten worse, come see me immediately.”

I nodded and she stood, handing the prescription to Sebastien, who was leaning against the desk.

He tucked the prescription in his shirt pocket and extended his hand to the doctor, who shook firmly. “Thank you, doc. Let me walk you to your car.”

“It's okay. My husband is in the lobby waiting for me. Good night.”

“Good night,” I said as the doctor exited the office.

I turned to Sebastien and smirked, “See, painkillers. Just as I predicted.”

But his face remained serious. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.” He helped me to my feet, my handbag hanging loosely over my shoulder. “Now, let’s go get your things from your apartment.”

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