Page 60 of The Sebastian Guarantee
“I don’t know what to say to that, Jeremy,” Phoebe replied, clearly taken aback, and rightly so. The guy had gone from telling her she wasn’t worth his time to begging her to forgive him.
“Say you’ll let me make up for my bad behavior,” he replied, heaping on the fake sincerity.
Phoebe released a pained sigh. With her lips pressed into a slight grimace, she looked downright conflicted. And no, no, no! She could not be conflicted, not over this poser. And she wasn’t exhibiting her man-eater demeanor. But he knew what was going on in Phoebe’s head—no, in her heart. Phoebe had the biggest heart of anyone he knew. And Jeremy Drewler appeared to also be in on that fact—and damned gleeful to take advantage of it. Still, Sebastian wasn’t about to let Mr. Strawberry Man Bun manipulate her. He touched her arm, about to remind her that they needed to blow this cocktail hour, when a woman called Phoebe’s name.
“Do you have a second to chat in the lodge?” the familiar voice continued.
He glanced toward the source of the sound and spied Carla Lopez.
“It’s Carla, the Techy Times editor,” he said under his breath. He was pretty sure Phoebe couldn’t make out who was calling her name. “She’s by the side doors leading to the lodge. The non-emergency doors. I’d suggest using that door unless you want to make another blaring grand entrance.”
“Very funny,” Phoebe replied, sounding more like herself. “Will you both excuse me?”
“Certainly,” Jeremy crooned.
“Do you want me to walk you over?” Sebastian asked, ignoring Jeremy as irritation prickled down his spine.
“I’m good. I’m getting the hang of these shoes,” she answered, then lifted her high-heel-clad foot.
“I’ll meet you inside,” Sebastian replied, then threw a pointed glance at the drooler. “I’ll be close by. I’ve always got your back, Pheebs.”
Phoebe flashed an appreciative smile, then set off for the lodge. Now he needed to get away from Jeremy before he hurt the guy. Without saying a word, he started toward the building and spied Phoebe through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining this side of the lodge. Carla appeared to be introducing her to a group of men. He entered the rustic space and caught a snippet of the conversation.
A man slipped Phoebe his card. “We’re fascinated by your Munch Match app, Ms. Gale, and its application in the dating and relationship sectors. Most dating sites pair couples based on a myriad of psychological assessments. It’s intriguing that your app bucks that line of thinking. Can you tell us more?”
Phoebe hesitated, wavering for a second, and he knew why. She was debating whether she should shut down the Munch Match talk and pivot to Go Girl. When he heard her explain the technical nuts and bolts of the food truck matching app, he breathed a sigh of relief.
He wasn’t trying to be a jerk. Phoebe wanted to promote her Go Girl concept. He understood that. It was her passion. But this group appeared genuinely interested in another one of her projects. Her Munch Match app could be the quickest route to success.
He hung back, far enough away not to intrude but close enough to hear the conversation float through the cavernous space. He leaned against an exposed timber and casually slipped his hand into his pocket. Anxiety panged in his chest as he felt the slim notepad, but then a realization took hold. Promoting the Munch Match app could also be the quickest route to success—for himself and his case study. Success was success, right? If she had to hold off on Go Girl for a little while, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Even her uncle had told her not to limit herself. As her friend and life coach, he’d guide her toward the fastest path to promoting her business.
Yep, that’s what he was doing.
He was helping her. He was helping her and helping himself. Nothing wrong with that. Except, she didn’t know about thehelping himselfpart. He couldn’t get that not-so-little tidbit out of his head. But he’d have to get past it if he wanted to succeed. It wasn’t like keeping her in the dark hurt her. He was no Jeremy, was he? No, he couldn’t be. He took a sip of champagne to quell his nerves, when the ladies quilting near the fire roused his attention. He soon learned he wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on the beguiling Phoebe Gale.
The women tossed curious glances Phoebe’s way, then murmured to each other like they recognized her. He’d gotten the same feeling when Mae welcomed them to the lodge. Phoebe’s family was from Colorado. That’s where her uncle and her birth parents had grown up, but it was a big state. What connection could she have to an old lady who owned a lodge and her gray-haired sewing buddies?
He checked his watch. He didn’t have time to worry about a group of little old ladies. He couldn’t have Phoebe spending too much time with the investors tonight. Sticking with his new Sebastian Guarantee framework, she’d given them a hint and generated the buzz. It was time to get back to the room to strategize. He took a step toward her, but someone tapped his shoulder.
Not someone—some asshole.
The one and only Jeremy Drewler.
Sebastian shrugged off the man’s hand. “Are you lost?”
“No, I’m right where I want to be,” the guy answered, losing the earnest edge he’d employed with Phoebe and utilizing a decidedly more devious tone as his gaze raked over her.
Sebastian kept his expression neutral. “Is that so? Don’t you think you should be schmoozing with the investors? You droned on about how badly you want to succeed.”
Jeremy’s lips twisted into a cocksure smirk. “There’s an excellent chance I already have financing lined up. This morning, I received an email from an investment group that’s very interested in working with me.”
“How nice for you,” Sebastian served up with a helping ofI couldn’t give a flying fucklaced into his reply. “Are you sure it wasn’t some internet scam? A phishing email from a prince somewhere across the globe?”
With a smug air, Jeremy lifted his chin. If he were a rooster, he’d be crowing. “Oh, this investment firm is legit. I checked them out. They have offices in the US, Europe, and Asia. They’re called . . . the Marieuse Group.”
Chapter13
SEBASTIAN
