Winning the Billionaire (Seattle Bachelors Book 2) (6 page)

Maybe playing in a band wouldn’t have paid the bills. He might not have ended up with a huge record label, touring the world. Hell, he had to admit his father was right on that account. He might not have ended up where he had if he’d followed his dreams, and he was proud of what he’d accomplished. Their small family business wouldn’t have ended up on the Fortune 500 list if he hadn’t been determined to drive it there.

They were
his
dreams, though, and his father had squashed them. No way in hell was wife number five getting her hands on his company.

He still had no desire to get married, though, and no desire to hurt Christina any more than he already had. She deserved better. This was the best for her, whether he liked it or not.

Standing with his “stepmother,” Gwen, beside his father’s casket Wednesday morning, Sebastian attempted to go numb as he listened to the pastor give the sermon. He was determined to get through this damn funeral without feeling much of anything.

The day itself was cool and drizzly, the sky overcast. A blanket of gray blocked out what sun they might have had, but apparently Mother Nature couldn’t decide if she wanted it to actually rain. The dismal weather suited his mood. The funeral had a good turnout. Several hundred people had come to pay their respects, but getting through the service had to be one of the hardest moments of his life. Harder even than the day his father had blatantly pointed out that Mom wasn’t coming back.

Today, too much emotion had caught in his chest. Regret. Grief. Anger. He hadn’t the foggiest damn idea how to deal with any of it. There was too much he wished he’d had the guts to tell the old man when he lived.

Turning his head, he fixed his gaze on Christina’s still form among the gatherers. She stood toward the front with Cade and Hannah, looking gorgeous in a simple black suit. She’d greeted him politely at the funeral parlor, as decorum dictated, but any time he met her gaze, hers filled with a cool aloofness, not at all as open as she’d been two days ago. He missed her smile, and he hated the tension between them.

As the pastor said the final prayer, Gwen sobbed quietly beside him, what looked like big, fat crocodile tears. She and his father had only known each other for a little more than a year, three whole months before they married, yet she appeared to be falling to pieces. He didn’t buy a single bit of it.

When the service finished, he stood to do his part. “Thank you all for coming. At the request of the widow, no gathering will be held.”

Too exhausted and too numb for any more, he turned and negotiated his way through the crowd toward his limo, parked at the curb. He wanted to go home. He’d taken the rest of the day off, leaving his assistant with the order to call him should anything pressing arise. The newest resort in Milan was supposed to have been completed by now. He’d hoped the resort would be finished before the summer season hit, but things never quite went according to plan. Complications had risen, and he’d have to push the opening off until June.

For today, though, he was going home and taking a run. He wanted to run long and hard, to work off the anger and grief and frustration caught in the web of crap in his chest. Then he had plans to get out his guitar. He hadn’t played in months. He’d been too busy. Maybe if he did, maybe if he gave in to the pull and let the music soothe his soul the way it used to, he’d actually sleep tonight.

He hadn’t slept worth a damn since Christina left his apartment the other day. Oh, she’d been angry with him plenty of times over the years. Hell, he ought to be used to it. This time, something was different. She’d opened a line of honesty between them, and the ache in his gut wouldn’t go away. Having to be here, of all places, without her beside him nagged at him as being flat-out wrong. Of all the days for her to mother hen him to death, today was another day he actually needed her.

Christina followed Sebastian’s progress as he wandered away from the gravesite. Shoulders hunched, his expression cool and impassive. Regret mixed with the pain seated in her chest. She’d thrown herself at him and made a fool of herself. His emphatic refusal had stung more than a little.

He’d buried his father this morning, though, and the sight of his carefully masked grief had her heart in a tangle in her chest.

Caden leaned over and nudged her elbow with his hand. When she turned to look at him, he nodded in Sebastian’s direction, brow furrowed, gaze stern. Christina braced herself. She knew that look. Caden was about to get his lecture on.

“He won’t say it. He’ll never ask, but he needs us today. Whatever beef you have with him, put it away for another day. Sebastian’s family.” He took Hannah’s hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm.

Hannah gave her a warm smile, touched her shoulder, and the two moved in Sebastian’s direction. Over the last six months, Hannah had become a treasured friend. They’d met initially when Cade and Hannah had first started seeing each other, though their friendship hadn’t officially begun until the two announced their engagement. Hannah amazed her. She’d lost her parents in a terrible car accident and wore the scars of that day—literally. A huge slash cut across her right cheek, too deep to be hidden by makeup. And while she grew up fending for herself, not in the luxury Christina and Caden had, she fit into their family, like she’d been born into it. She was good for Caden. Christina and Hannah’s business partner, Maddie O’Riley, had become friends during Caden and Hannah’s wedding.

Christina turned, following their progress with her eyes. They greeted Sebastian at the curb, each hugging him tightly for a moment. Hannah murmured something, and Sebastian took her hand, gave her a warm but tired smile, and squeezed her fingers. Caden murmured something in his ear, and Sebastian nodded before Caden and Hannah moved off.

Her gut knotted. Caden was right. Sebastian was family. Were she angry with Caden, she wouldn’t have allowed an argument to keep her from supporting him. Why should it be any different with Sebastian?

With a sigh, she made her way toward him, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk. Another couple she didn’t recognize stopped to offer condolences. Every fiber of her body trembled as she waited. Nausea rolled through her stomach. When the older couple moved away, she drew a deep breath, buried her pain and anger, and stepped up beside him. This was about him. Not her.

His scent blew in on the breeze, and her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. Any other time, she’d have wrapped him in a fierce hug, put him in the limo, and taken him home. This time, she kept her hands to herself. She didn’t know if she had the right to do that anymore.

Sebastian glanced at her, and the tension between them ramped up several notches. Something she couldn’t quite grasp worked in the depths of his eyes.

“Are you all right?” She had so much more she wanted to say to him. It likely wasn’t what he needed to hear, but it was the safest thing for both of them.

“I’m fine.” He turned to stare out over the roof of the limo and stood silent a moment, hands in the pockets of his black slacks. Finally, he drew a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s never intentional. You have to know you get to me.”

If at all possible, the tension ramped up another thousand degrees, a wall that erected between them. For the first time since she’d known him, Sebastian had become a stranger. He’d always treated her like a kid sister at worst, a friend at best. This nothingness ate at her. They’d crossed a line they couldn’t go back from and it became the Great Wall of China between them.

Sebastian turned his back to her and dragged his hands through his hair, holding it off his forehead the way he did when frustrated. Finally, he dropped his hands, flashing a gentle smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The pain in his gaze had her breath catching in her throat and her fingers twitched again with a desperate need to hug the stuffing out of him. Angry or not, he was clearly hurting. Right then, he held the weight of the world on his shoulders, and her heart ached with the need to take some of it from him.

“I’m sorry. I need to get out of here, or I’m going to implode. Thank you for coming. I appreciate the support.” He nodded at his driver and climbed inside the limo.

The driver shut the door, leaving her standing on the sidewalk with a hole in her chest. Why did she feel like she’d lost her best friend? And why was she still so damn tempted to follow him into his limo and take him home?

The limo drove off before she’d taken her next breath, leaving her staring after him. A war waged in her chest. She’d have to head back to the office, pretend her head was in the game for the board meeting this afternoon, when everything inside of her, every fiber of muscle and every cell of blood, begged her to go after him. Sebastian Blake had her caught somewhere between here and eternity, and she had no idea which end was up anymore.

Christina jolted awake. She stared at the dark ceiling above her, watching the play of shadows for a moment, trying to discern what had woken her. The heater ran, blowing warm air through the house, but otherwise, the night was silent. When pounding came from the front door, she turned her head to look at the clock: 1:02 a.m. blinked back at her in bright red numbers.

When the doorbell rang next, she pried herself out of bed, grabbed her robe off the ottoman at the end, and wrapped the garment around her as she padded to the front door. Unlike Caden and Sebastian, Christina owned a small house. She hated apartment living, wedged in on all sides with neighbors, no privacy, noises at all hours of the night. She’d tried it once right after college, had bought a small condo in Clyde Hill. Within six months, she’d realized it wasn’t for her.

No, she’d wanted a home, like the one in which she’d grown up. Her small house sat in a neighborhood full of families. Exactly why she’d bought the place. Her neighbors were kind people, and the house was her dream. She wanted what the people surrounding her had. A home and a family.

More to the point, they’d all gone to bed by now. The neighborhood quieted down after dark. Who’d show up on her doorstep at one in the morning? Worry etched her mind. It wouldn’t be Caden. If something had happened, he’d have called first. Same with her mother.

The person on the other side pounded again as she undid the locks.

“All right, all right. For crying out loud, I’m…” As she yanked the door open, the rest of her complaint died in her throat. “Sebastian.”

He stood beneath the awning of the front porch in the shirt and slacks he’d worn to the funeral, though he’d lost his jacket and tie. He leaned his hands on the door frame, looking up at the sound of her voice. He didn’t give her time to ask what he was doing there so late. Instead, he frowned and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him, took a moment to latch it, then turned to her. Eyes feral and dark, he backed her against the adjacent wall and set his hands on either side of her head, reminiscent of that morning in his condo.

Her heart caught in her throat. Blood flooded every muscle, and her core throbbed. He was so close his scent invaded her nostrils. His cologne, a clean and masculine scent, mixed with the all-male aroma clinging to him and went to her head in a rush. He’d also been drinking. The aroma of alcohol, scotch if she wasn’t mistaken, wafted over her as his breath puffed against her lips. She chose to focus on that and not the way the wild look in his heavy lidded eyes made her knees tremble. God, he was sexy when he looked at her like that.

She sagged back against the wall. “You’ve been drinking.”

Sebastian’s gaze flicked down her body, and he drew a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. As he met her gaze again, hunger blazed in his eyes.

“That robe doesn’t cover a damn thing. I can see your every curve.” His hand came up, his thumb boldly sweeping the tip of her left breast. His voice lowered to a husky murmur. “I can see the shape of your nipples through this thing.”

Her nipple tightened in an instant, begging for another stroke of his fingers. She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a needy gasp and tried one more time to reason with him. “Please tell me you didn’t drive over here, Baz.”

“I’ve had three drinks. Granted, they were doubles, but I’m not drunk. Delightfully fuzzy, maybe, but not drunk. I think today warranted a drink. And, no, I didn’t drive.” One corner of his mouth hitched, and his eyes lit up, playful, childish, and completely Sebastian. “Having more money than God has its perks. I had my driver bring me. The man needs a damn raise for getting out of bed for me at one in the morning.”

Christina drew her brows together and shook her head, forcing her mind to focus. “Why are you here? What on earth couldn’t wait a few hours?”

He leaned into her, resting his forearms on the wall beside her head. Her breath caught. Oh God. He was so close now his hot breath whispered over her cheek. An inch at most separated them, and every inch of
her
waited on the edge of a precipice for him to make the next move.

“I see you.” The words came as a tender murmur between them. He tucked her hair with the tip of his index finger, letting the digit graze the top of her ear.

Hot little shivers raced along the surface of her skin, from the point of contact outward. Instantly recognizing the line from a movie she knew he’d seen because they’d watched it together, Christina attempted to regain her equilibrium and rolled her eyes. Pushing back was her only saving grace at this point. “That’s a cheesy line, even for you.”

He shook his head, his gaze deadly somber. “No, I mean it. I can’t believe we’ve known each other all this time, and you still haven’t a clue how I feel about you. God, sometimes it consumes me. Some days it’s all I can do to keep busy enough not to think about it. It always manages to surprise me that you don’t seem to see it, because I often feel like I’m made of glass, like you can see right through me.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and a desperate ache settled between her thighs. Oh, she hadn’t anticipated him saying that. It didn’t help that he stroked his finger down her temple, traced the line of her cheek and jaw, the touch soft and tender and leaving goose bumps in its wake. All she could do was remember the in and out of breathing.