Page 34 of Mr. Aster
“No,” I said, solemn and a bit nervous. “But she obviously has never heard of it. It’s old news.”
He clicked his tongue. “No, Miss Burke, any news isnewswhen it comes to people of status. I am friends with the Wellington and Beaumont families, and I’m sure they’ll be appalled when I tell them what you wrote about Tiffany. In fact, Iknowthey will be. They would probably do anything to bury the article, the press that printed it, andyouif they found out.”
I gritted my teeth together in anger. “Blackmail, eh?” I said, knowing I was so fucked because of thisinvestigative asshole. “That’s the look you want, knowing that blackmail is theonlyway I’ll fake date you?”
“It’s a look I’m willing to have to avoid being auctioned off.”
“Then I’ll tell your dad and Jim not to include you in the benefit. Jesus Christ,” I said, conceding my position just to get him off my back.
“No, sweetheart,” he said with a glare. “It’s too late since you’ve already sold my father on the idea. I’ve given you the only option, andno oneis to find out the truth of this fake relationship.”
“Donotthreaten me,” I seethed. I was backed into a corner, and it was clear that this bastard was as ruthless as he was handsome.
“Then, I see we have an agreement,” he grinned, took out another cigar, smelled the length of it slowly, clipped off the end, and lit it.
I stared at his first victory puff in disgust.
“Oh,” he said as I turned to walk away, “you’ll remember to adore me and be unable to keep your hands to yourself whenever we’re in public. You can start practicing tonight in front of your parents. I’m sure they’ll find it all very believable.”
I marched back up to his tall and robust frame, and though I wanted to punch him in the gut, I elected not to bruise my hand. Instead, I ripped the cigar from between his teeth and threw the damned thing on the ground like I had the first.
“Wouldn’t want you to die of lung cancer,lover,” I snarled. “You should probably stop smoking those things now.”
He smirked, “I said to act like my fake girlfriend, not a nagging wife.”
“You are—ugh,” I couldn’t find the right words. I was a fucking journalist who made money describing things in greatdetail with adjectives galore, but I couldn’t find the appropriate words to describe this man.
“Say it, sweetheart,” he chimed.
“You might be good-looking on the outside, but you’re ugly on the inside,” I said, using an insult that would’ve leveled a second grader.
I didn’t know what was worse, that I couldn’t think of anything clever to say, or that I couldn’t think of anything clever to say,yet I still kept talking.
His eyebrows shot up, probably amused that my comeback was about as mean as if I’d stuck out my tongue at him.
“I’ll takethatas a compliment. Oh,” he smiled, “the Mitchells took me up on my dinner offer. I purchased a car and I’m having it delivered this afternoon. We’ll drive it to Yountville tomorrow to dine at Chef Thomas Keller’s iconic restaurant, The French Laundry.”
“He should feelso thrilled,” I finally answered after a long pause.
I should’ve never tried to play games with this dickhead. There was no way out of this now. He had this backup plan because he knew I didn’t want my reputation ruined or Mr. Juniper’s magazine sued by some snotty billionaire family I’d written aboutwithout their expressed permission,regardless of it being harmless.
Max nearly had a coronary about me wanting to publish the article about the private jet landing at the climate-change conference, so I couldn’t imagine the hell I’d get if this shit got exposed. My future in journalism would be over, and from the way Sebastian read that article, I was beginning to think it might’ve been over before it started. God, how embarrassing.
If I didn’t hate him before, it was safe to say I did now. Not like that would hurt his feelings or anything. Soulless devils like Sebastian probably loved it when people like me hated them. Infact, Iknewhe loved it. Why else would he demand me to be all over his ass as if I were in love with him when it was the opposite of what he wanted?
This was a match made in hell by El Diablo himself.
Chapter Fourteen
Sebastian
What I liked most about my personality was that when I was put in a position to be defeated, I could always find a way to come out on top. It’s just who I was, and it was why my father had put me through this bullshit; he wanted me back in the swing of things, running the family empire alongside him, as always.
Sadly for my father, he’d put himself on a collision course with me by consenting to this bachelor auction. Because he’d chosen to be selfish, preferring that I help run his empire instead of giving me the time I needed to grieve, he was about to get a dose of nasty medicine after I made him believe Darcy and I had fallen madly in love.
Although I was in a dark place in my life, somehow, this was shaping up to be something I was looking forward to. It was strange how this fiasco had become more amusing than infuriating. Perhaps it was because I was putting Darcy in her place for fucking with my personal life, or maybe it was becauseI enjoyed her being the first woman I’d ever known to stand up to me. Most women couldn’t even look me in the eye, let alone declare full-on war like Darcy had. It humored me, and in some weird, twisted way, it turned me on.
It was a bit of a mind screw, being turned on watching her cute ass storm off to her room like a spoiled child because shit like that was notoriously intolerable to me. Yet here I was, admiring this absurdity.
