Page 5 of The Husband Contract
“I’m Sebastian. Am I going to get a number?” He stares at me, and I just nod in response, my heart racing. Is he seriously asking me for my phone number? Maybe I should listen to Brielle and her flirting tips more often.
“One moment.” I look around for a pen and paper. Fuck, I don’t see anything. “Maybe I can get your phone,” I purr seductively and bat my eyelashes. “I can type it in for you.”
“Sorry, what?” He stares at me like I’m crazy. “Am I getting a number for the coats, or has the system changed to a phone app or something?”
“A number for the coats,” I repeat stupidly. My face is fire-engine red now. I want to die. I want a sinkhole to open up right now and send me to Antarctica, where I will live the rest of my life among the penguins and icebergs.
“What is going on?” Sebastian asks one of the othermen, and I turn around quickly. I still have his coat in my hand, and I notice something falling out of one of the pockets. I grab the item and go to push the item back in, when I feel something prick me.
“Ow,” I cry out, and Sebastian spins back around, his eyes widening as he stares at me with my hand in his coat pocket.
“What are you doing?” His tone is stern, and his face looks menacing. “Are you going through my pockets?”
“No, I just...” I swallow hard. Shit! I don’t know what to say. “Something was falling out. I was just?—”
“Likely story.” He glares at me. “Please hang up my coat and stop invading my privacy.”
“What? I was just?—”
He looks down at his phone and frowns. I watch as he reads something, and his lips thin. He’s squeezing his phone now, and he mutters something under his breath.
“The number?” He gazes up at me. “Now.”
“I’m getting it,” I mutter. “Jackass.”
“What did you say to me?” He takes another step toward me. The man may be tall, dark, and handsome, but his personality is for the streets or even the sewers. He’s such a pig. I can’t believe that I thought he was cute for even one second.
“I’m getting your number like you asked.” I turn around quickly and grab a hanger. I’m already ready to quit. I really need the extra money, but this doesn’t seem worth it.
“We have a table waiting...” He taps his watch.
“I’m doing my best, sir,” I say in my best cutesy voice. I will not let this man get the better of me. And then I see Norman walking back toward us, and I do not want him witnessing this.
“Like I said before, it's Sebastian Laurence,” the tall mansays, and I flinch slightly as I hear Norman’s footsteps coming closer. “So I see you’ve heard of me.” He smirks, but I don’t have time to tell him I have no idea who he is and don’t even care anymore. I finally see a sharpie and grab a piece of napkin and write down #1 on it, and hand it to him.
“What’s this?” He holds the napkin like it’s filled with snot.
“Your number to get your coats,” I say quickly. “Bring this back to collect your coats.” Norman’s footsteps are getting closer now. “Enjoy your cigars and stocks.”
“Hmph.” He turns around, and I watch as the men walk off, mere seconds before Norman reaches me again. I turn to him with a waning smile.
“You didn’t show me where the numbers are.”
“I thought, seeing as you were ready to share the tips, you already knew how to take care of everything.” There’s a satisfied lilt in his voice. “There’s a lot of training to this job.”
“Yeah, sure.” I try not to roll my eyes. “We’re akin to neurosurgeons putting these coats away,” I mutter under my breath, and I’m glad he doesn’t hear me because I have a feeling that if he had, I’d be fired on the spot
Chapter Two
Sebastian
“Falling in love has to be the number one way to lose money,” I tell my friends as we sit back in our leather seats at the exclusive Magnolia Club. Every Thursday, my five best friends and I meet for drinks and dinner and discuss business, investments, and relationships, in that order. We’ve been best friends for over twenty years now, meeting at boarding school when we were all teenagers. We affectionately referred to ourselves as the “Oxford Six,” as we’d all gotten our masters at Oxford University after college.
“Not that you would know, Mr. Number 101 on the Forbes’Wealthiest Men in the Worldlist.” Flynn chuckles as he downs another shot of whiskey. His green eyes are filled with mirth as he stares at me. “You wouldn’t know love if it knocked on your front door.”
“You wouldn’t know a woman if she woke up in yourbed,” I hit back at him, and he throws his handsome head back and laughs in mischievous glee. He takes a slow puff of his Cuban cigar and exhales.
“That’s not what April said this morning when I was?—”
