Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Sebastian, you were seen with—”
Putting on his best smoldering, mysterious look, Sebastian strode toward the club’s entrance. To be totally honest, despite years in the industry, he still felt like a fraud when he did it. Growing up, he’d been very far from being smoldering and mysterious. He’d been a total geek as a kid, preferring quiet evenings with a book to hanging out with friends that he didn’t have. Puberty hadn’t treated him well: he had been an awkward, gangly, pimply teenager obsessed with videogames and Harry Potter books, a loser who was pushed around and tripped in the corridors.
Who would have guessed back then that he was just a very late bloomer?
Now, looking at Sebastian’s luscious black hair, dark bedroom eyes and toned physique, no one believed how painfully uncool and unattractive he used to be. His teenage self would have never believed that a few years down the road he would have the reputation of being a womanizer. Sebastian wanted to laugh every time he heard himself called that. Well, to be fair, the reputation wasn’t entirely undeserved. Sebastian had been a bit of a slag in those first few years of modeling, shagging everything that moved, because all of a sudden people wanted him and it had been a little heady. It still was, sometimes. Sebastian couldn’t deny he still loved the thrill of attracting admiring looks from men and women who wouldn’t have spared him a second glance in his youth. Maybe it was petty, but fuck that, he was allowed to be petty after years of ridicule and rejection.
Sebastian shook his head, smiling a little. “You’re twenty-five years old, idiot,” he murmured to himself. An adult. A real grown-up. It was well past time to get over his shitty teenage years. He wasn’t the first or the last person whose teenage years sucked.
Shaking his thoughts off, Sebastian entered the club. His aloof face firmly on, he navigated through the crowd, a bit relieved that there were so many guests. Surely his tardiness hadn’t been noticed when there were so many other famous guests: football players, models, executives, politicians, and socialites. Sebastian wasn’t surprised. From what he knew of Tristan DuVal, the bloke wasn’t one to miss the opportunity to network. It wasn’t all business, to be fair: Sebastian could see the engaged couple’s family and quite a few familiar faces from LGBT charities. It was certainly an interesting and diverse crowd.
Sebastian looked around the room, his gaze skimming over the groups of chatting people. He should probably find Tristan and his fiancé—
His gaze snapped back to the tall blond man leaning against the wall. There was something familiar about him...
The man turned his head a little and Sebastian sucked a breath in. Shit. It was him. The homophobic prick he’d sucked off in Moscow.
Sebastian bit his lip, eyeing the other man.
The thing was, Sebastian usually never slept with taken people. He hadn’t known Nina was taken; he had noticed the picture of her and her boyfriend only after the sex. He had felt so shitty about the whole thing, but after getting to know her close-minded boyfriend, Sebastian couldn’t exactly blame Nina for straying. The guy was a giant bully.
Sebastian hated bullies. That man—Vlad, if his memory served right—had brought an onslaught of painful, humiliating memories from his youth: of being shoved against the lockers, called a faggot, and kicked around by a bunch of homophobic straight jerks just like that man. Sebastian couldn’t fight bullies as a teenager, but now that he was no longer stick-thin and shy, he could more than stand up for himself. He was proud that he hadn’t let his teenage insecurities overwhelm him in Moscow, proud that he hadn’t let that homophobic asshole kick him around. He had won. The asshole had left his hotel room thoroughly confused and disgusted with himself. It served him right. Sebastian had been so proud, certain that he’d taught the homophobe a lesson and Vlad would know better in the future.
Well, so much for that. The asshole was openly sneering at Tristan and his fiancé, Zach. The couple wasn’t even doing anything outrageous: Zach had his arm slung casually around Tristan’s waist, his thumb resting on Tristan’s hip as the couple talked to a few guests. As far as public displays of affection went, it was very tame, but, judging by Vlad’s face, they might as well be making out. Tosser.
Pursing his lips, Sebastian picked up a glass of champagne from the passing waiter and headed toward Vlad.
“What’s a nice straight man like you doing at a place like this?” he said, leaning against the wall next to the other man.
Vlad’s body went rigid. He didn’t turn his head toward Sebastian, so Sebastian took a moment to sweep his gaze over the guy. Vlad was clad in a black suit, black undershirt and black shoes, his cropped blond hair very fair in contrast.