Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
I get why they call him the people’s politician. He really does put the people and their needs first.
Bart comes back to stand beside me. He leans in and whispers, "We've got a problem."
"What's that?" I keep my eyes on Sebastian.
"Gerhard is at the next venue."
"Meaning what?"
"It's being televised."
I frown, still confused.
"He's only at press releases when he wants to stir trouble."
"You think he's here about Theodore?"
"Why else would he drive three hours and only attend the televised release? He's going to blow the story out of the water. We're fucked."
I lean in and whisper, "Didn't you say that we have to enter via the back entrance at the next venue to avoid the protestors who are there about the proposed roadworks?"
"Yes."
"Then, let the protestors into the press release."
He frowns.
"If they televise the protestors, there won't be airtime left for speculation, will there?"
He raises his eyebrow. "Plant a distraction?"
"Attack is the best form of defense, Bart," I whisper as I stare straight ahead. "And the public already know about the roadworks. With the protestors causing havoc, it'll be cut short. No time for questions."
A trace of a smile crosses his face. "I like the way you think, Bennet."
"If Gerhard wants to play games, we’ll play them harder."
Bart takes out his phone and walks off to make a phone call in private.
I turn back to Sebastian, and I watch him speak with such conviction and honor. I smile to myself. Maybe I will like this job, after all.
Not today, Gerhard.
Not today.
We’re sitting in the bar, watching the televised recap of this afternoon’s press conference.
The protestors clamber along the side of the streets, yelling abuse while holding placards. We watch on as Sebastian gets whisked out and into a waiting black Audi.
We threw Sebastian to the lions this afternoon. The press release lasted all of eight minutes, and my plan worked like a charm.
As Sebastian is whisked away, our group smile, chatter, and they raise their drinks to the television screen, excited that we held the story. At least for today.
We head back to London tomorrow, back to reality. Who knows what will happen then?
Sebastian is sitting by the fire with three men. He's pensive this afternoon, and I know that the protestors ruffled his feathers. But he did what we had to do. He still hasn’t looked at me once, and although I hate to admit it, I'm beginning to feel rejected. "I'm going to head to my room," I say.
"Great work today, April." Bart smiles. "You did good."
"Thanks." I look around at the people I’m sitting with. "Goodnight."
I take the elevator and head back to my room, where I pour myself a glass of wine and run a hot bath.
I hear a knock at the connecting door, and I smile when I open it. Big, brown eyes meet mine, and Sebastian steps forward to take me in his arms.
"Finally." He kisses me. It's tender and loving, with just the right amount of suction.
"Hi," I smile.
"Hi," he breathes against my lips. His hand slides beneath my robe, and he cups my behind.
He's different tonight.
Sated.
Last night he was here because he had to be. Tonight, he's here because he wants to be.
"I need a shower," he whispers.
"Okay." I try to step back but he pulls me closer and kisses me again. "Let me rephrase that. We need a shower."
I lie in the darkness and listen to Sebastian's regulated breathing. He's fast asleep, and like the creeper I am, I'm lying on my side, watching him. His dark hair and skin are a contrast to the white bedlinen. His big, red lips are slightly parted. His black, thick lashes fan across his face.
Breathe him in.
He was right: there is nothing more intoxicating than the scent of the person you want.
Just like last night, we fed on each other for hours until our bodies couldn’t take or give anymore.
Every time with him just gets better. Every time, I find something new. A deeper connection.
It scares me.
Because, right now, I'm taken back to the twenty-five-year-old who was besotted with the man she's currently staying in a hotel with. The man she hardly knows.
The man she has every reason to despise.
I'm unsure if this is a good thing, but what I do know is that I couldn’t stop it even if I tried.
"I'll have a double latte and a cappuccino, please," I tell the server behind the cash register. "And two turkey, Swiss cheese, and cranberry sauce toasted sandwiches, please."
"Sure thing." She smiles and puts my order into the computer.
It's 3:00 p.m. on Friday afternoon. Bart and I haven’t had lunch yet. We are across town. He's dealing with a client who is in tears back at her apartment. Her husband, who is a currently touring as a drummer in an iconic rock band, has just been arrested in Denmark on pornography charges. Bart is trying to figure out a plan of action and posting bail. How serious the charges are is unclear at this stage.