Your Irresistible Love

by Layla Hagen

  “Okay.” I’m almost out of breath. “I agree with you.”

  “See you tonight at the show.”

  “You’re coming?” I ask.

  “Yeah. What will you wear?”

  “I bought a crazy fancy dress. I love it.”

  He steps back, freeing me. As I step by him toward the building entrance, he says into my ear, “Wear lace underneath the dress tonight. It turns me on.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ava

  Crazy fancy is the term for the show, and I’ve been to some fancy events in my life. The location is one of the most famous restaurants in San Francisco, with a beautiful garden surrounding it. Organized mayhem reigns inside. The back of the restaurant has been transformed into a runway with large screens on either side of it. There are no rows of chairs¸ like in a traditional fashion show. Instead, there are round tables scattered in the room. Most tables are for four, but there are some larger ones as well. Still, the place maintains a warm and welcoming feel by having candles on each table.

  Looking at the people milling around the room, I grow prouder of my attire with every passing minute. I’m wearing a dark blue sequined designer dress I bought on sale in a boutique downtown that was surprisingly well stocked. They had some mouthwatering dresses from the latest collections, but I only tried on the items they had on sale. I’m saving the bulk of my salary for the down payment on an apartment.

  I inspect everything about my surroundings. Part of my job will be to help put together the next collection show. I am pondering what I can do different while maintaining the essence of the show. Of course, Gemma, the event coordinator, can give me all the details about this, but experiencing it firsthand always beats looking at lists and video recordings. I take my time observing the decor, the way people react to it, and to each other, as well as the things—or people—the press is most interested in. The main collection shows always have excellent coverage. All the major fashion magazines, business magazines, and even the occasional lifestyle magazine cover them. I wasn’t expecting so much press for a buyer show, too.

  Most of the reporters are still waiting for the show to begin, but several are cornering the guests. Among the cornered ones, I see Logan and Pippa. She doesn’t seem to mind the spotlight, even though her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Logan looks downright annoyed as the reporter throws question after question at him. A few feet away, I recognize the party brothers from the pictures I saw from the last show. God, this family has some extraordinary genes.

  Logan joins me a few minutes later. “Ava, you look great.”

  “Thank you. Is the press done with you?”

  “Ah, if they had it their way, they’d never be done.” Shaking his head, he puts his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know why I’m always surprised that they can’t talk to our PR people and leave me and my family alone.”

  “Speaking of family,” I say as nonchalantly as possible, “where is Sebastian?”

  Logan raises his eyebrows. “He’s not coming. At least, he hasn’t told me he is.”

  My shoulders slump, and I try my best not to look too disappointed, but I’m not fooling Logan.

  “Did he tell you something else?” he asks.

  I give a noncommittal shrug and excuse myself, mumbling that I need to find my table. Why am I so disappointed? It’s as though he promised he’d be here.

  I was so eager to see him, though. I’m wearing lace underwear, like he asked me to. I mentally slap myself. I’m wearing the lace for me. I look for anyone else I might recognize, to take my mind off Sebastian. I spot the marketing department sitting at one of the larger tables, and wave at them. Martha sits with them. They are finally starting to warm up to her.

  I’m heading to them when I feel my phone vibrate in my tiny purse.

  I take it out, and my stomach jolts as I read the text message.

  There is a room to the left of the bar. Get inside.

  It’s from Sebastian.

  I drop the phone carefully in my bag, looking over my shoulder as if I’m preparing for a clandestine mission. Giddy with anticipation, I stride toward the bar, eyeing the door Sebastian meant. It’s flanked by a massive bodyguard, but he gives me a once-over as I approach and opens the door for me.

  “Get inside. Quick,” the man booms. Taking a deep breath, I glance over my shoulder one last time, then step inside the room. It’s small but elegant, with a tiny table with a selection of the food available outside for the guests. A champagne bottle rests on it, along with two glasses. A giant window on the wall overlooks the restaurant, but I realize at once, it’s a one-way glass. It looked like a mirror from the other side.

  Sebastian sits on a small couch. He rises slowly when he sees me. You’d think that seeing him in a suit every day would have prepared me for this, but it hasn’t. He wears an elegant navy suit, and wears it well. His hair still has that fuck-me look from this morning, and his entire appearance screams of masculinity and testosterone.

  “You look perfect,” Sebastian says.

  “You don’t look too shabby yourself.” I only realize I’m still standing by the door when he closes the distance between us and locks the door. His hand touches my waist for a brief second, and it’s enough to turn my knees to rubber.

  “Why did you lock it? You have a bodyguard outside.”

  “I wouldn’t want him to step inside at a bad moment.”

  He welcomes me in the room, pointing to the couch.

  “This is where I stay until the show is over,” he explains as I sit. “After that, the press will be asked to leave so the guests can enjoy the after-party.”

  “So you’re incognito during the show.”

  “I am. I told you before I don’t like journalists. Whenever they see me, they start questioning me about my private life instead of focusing on the company. It’s up to you if you want to be incognito with me.”

  “Why does that sound dirty?” I giggle, which I don’t do often. What does this man do to me?

  “I can make anything sound dirty,” he breathes in my ear, and I know this is a slippery slope.

  “Is that so?” My flirty tone surprises us both.

  “I’ll prove it to you.”

  He eyes my lips for two incredibly sensual seconds, but instead of kissing me, he brings the bottle of champagne.

  “You should be sitting with your brothers at one of the tables near the runway.” I strain my eyes, looking through the glass. I can see the runway, and I will see the models, but only a hawk could see the jewelry they’ll be wearing. “You won’t see anything from here.”

  He waves his hand impatiently. “You can’t see a damn thing anyway. The whole show is that, a show. The jewels are small. Everyone looks at the screens. Will you stay?” I startle when he pops the bottle open and pours champagne in the two glasses. Nodding, I take the glass he hands me.

  “I need to eat something first,” I say nervously. “Before I drink, I mean. I haven’t eaten since I last saw you; and if I drink right away, I might lose my head.”

  “We don’t want that, do we?” Sebastian muses, gesturing to the table as if saying help yourself.

  I put my glass down and grab a plate, filling it with a little bit of everything. After the first few bites, I realize I won’t be able to eat much anyway. Not with Sebastian so close, and so impossibly sexy. When it becomes clear I can’t take one more bite, I abandon the plate on the table, take my glass again, and join Sebastian on the couch.

  The second I sit, he leans in, wiping the corner of my lips with his thumb.

  “You have a bit of cream,” he murmurs. I smile shyly and take a large gulp of champagne, cleaning my mouth as discreetly as I can before putting the glass down again.

  Sebastian doesn’t take his eyes off me, and it becomes increasingly harder to breathe. I’ve been the object of his attention before, but now, in this small room with no one to see us and tons of expectations, it’s too much.

  “You look very beautifu
l tonight.” His tone is raspier than before. It does things to me. Delicious things. “But then again, you always look beautiful. Even in your little suits.”

  No, no, no. Why does he say all the right things? OhGodOhGod. He nibbles at my ear. The second his lips touch my skin, something dangerous lights inside me. Desire. It spreads like wildfire, and when he tilts my head to his lips, I don’t stop him.

  Our mouths meet in a fierce crash. I moan against him as his tongue meets mine. He responds in kind, pressing me closer to him. No man has kissed me like this, with consuming desire and desperate need. I don’t know how I end up lying on the couch on my back, under him, but I don’t care. He’s on top of me, propping himself on one arm in order not to crush me.

  His lips feel so good on mine. I don’t want him to stop. I savor his exquisite mouth with fervor as his free hand travels my body. Before long, it finds its way under my dress, caressing my thigh, traveling further up until. . .

  He groans, pulling his lips away, placing the hand on my waist. “You’re wearing lace.”

  “You told me to,” I say between moans as his lips descend to my neck.

  “Obedient girl; I like it. So you’re wearing it for me?”

  “For both of us,” I murmur.

  He cups my chin, looking me straight in the eyes. They’re hooded with desire, and knowing I have such a powerful effect on this man turns me on to no end. I become putty under him as he kisses me again, allowing myself to feel. And by God, this man knows how to bring out every single sensation without doing anything except kiss me. His hands remain on my waist.

  We’re still lying on the couch, Sebastian on top of me, when my body succumbs to the consuming need and I push my hips into his, soaking my thong as I realize he’s hard. He bites my lips gently, intensifying the kiss, luring whimper after whimper out of me. I fall into the bliss that this kiss is, fisting his hair, drawing him even closer to me. The deeper I let myself fall, the safer I feel in his arms. The more I taste of him, the more I want. Gradually, the slick warmth between my legs turns to unbearable heat. I become insatiable.

  Pulling apart, we both laugh.

  “Your lips are swollen,” he says. “You look sexy.”

  “Oh no.” I touch my lips. Shit. They feel swollen. “Everyone will know.”

  “Relax. No one will pay as much attention to your lips as me. If they do, I’ll rip their heads off.”

  “Stop being such a caveman, Sebastian.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I want you to know I haven’t done anything like this before. I’m not a floozy.”

  He laughs softly. “Floozy?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Me, too. I know you’re not that kind of woman.” He moves a strand of hair behind my ear, pushing himself off me, sitting on the edge of the couch. I follow suit. The second I’m sitting, I realize the show has begun. Reality hits me hard.

  “Sebastian,” I whisper, even though it’s just the two of us here. “We can’t do this; you know that.”

  “Because of your clause?” He scrutinizes me, and I detect something besides desire in his green eyes. Worry.

  “Yes.”

  “Only because of that?”

  I blink, fearing he might be able to see through my facade, the fears that my past relationship failures instilled in me. “Let’s not complicate this, all right?”

  “The thing is, Ava, this is already a complicated matter. I can’t get you out of my head since you walked into my office. I like to hear you laugh and see your eyes light up. I like watching you do mundane things like typing on your laptop, giving a presentation, or eating. What do you suggest I do?”

  He renders me speechless, and all I can do is stare at him. His eyes look so sincere. Not that I am an expert on the matter. God knows, I’ve misjudged men and their intentions for thirty-one years. But Sebastian is sincere.

  “I can’t risk my job,” I say eventually, because that’s the truth.

  Breath huffs out of him as he shifts closer to me and locks a strand of my hair around his fingers. “Is there no way around it?”

  “Let me think for a few days.” The fact that I’m even entertaining this thought is dangerous. Yes, my boss is in New York and I’m alone in San Francisco, but this doesn’t mean he can’t find out.

  “Okay.” His voice is full of hope. I almost kiss him again, but catch myself in time. “I want you to have something.”

  “What?”

  He searches his pocket, retrieving something that makes my heart skip. My ruby necklace. Well, not my ruby. I don’t own it, but it’s the one that stole my heart during our company tour on my first day here.

  “Let me put it around your neck.”

  “Sebastian—”

  “I want you to have it.”

  I jump to my feet, cold suddenly gripping me. I replay our conversation from the walk this morning, specifically the part where he said women are only interested in his bank account.

  “Do you think you have to buy my affection? This is why women take advantage of you.”

  In a fraction of a second, his face grows cold, his whole body stiffening. I can tell I’ve struck a chord. A deep one.

  I shake my head. “I won’t accept it. Nothing against you, but I don’t want expensive gifts from men, much less a ruby. The day I accept one, it’ll be on my ring finger and the man giving it to me will ask me to marry him.”

  He blinks, his expression unreadable. “You’re somethin’.”

  “We should watch the show,” I say in a calm voice.

  “Yeah, we should.”

  We sit on the couch again, keeping a small distance between us. Sebastian keeps the ruby necklace in his hand the entire time we watch the show, playing with it between his fingers. Once or twice, I feel his gaze on me, but we both remain silent.

  The thoughts roaring in my mind are dangerous.

  Kissing Sebastian was like being reborn. His lips were fulfilling, his touch freeing. His groans addicting. He makes me want to throw all caution to the wind. I’m not one to be reckless, but he demands it. I’m on the brink of obliging. What would it be to let this man sweep me away? Would he blow through my defenses the same way he kisses? Unrestrainedly and unapologetically?

  I think he would.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sebastian

  Admission is the first step in overcoming an addiction, right?

  I am addicted to Ava Lindt. There, I admitted it. I have a hunch that in my case, admission won’t help me overcome it. In fact, I don’t want to be cured. I want her, and I will have her. One kiss wasn’t nearly enough. Ava Lindt is unlike any woman I’ve met, and she’s fucking perfect.

  Alarm bells ring somewhere in the recesses of my mind. I should control myself and not jump straight into this, considering my past relationships. I should be careful; I want to be reckless instead. I need it.

  “Sebastian, I’m talking to you,” Logan says.

  “Huh?”

  “You either have developed adult-onset ADD, or you’re thinking about a woman.”

  “Logan, don’t get on my bad side today—”

  “It’s Ava, isn’t it?” When I don’t answer, he pumps his fist in the air. The gesture wouldn’t look half as ridiculous if we were on a soccer field, instead of in my office wearing suits. “Did you do her?”

  “If you speak of her like that again. . .” I give him a meaningful look.

  He flaps his hand dismissively, rising from his chair. “I can recite at least ten dirtier ways of saying that. If I call up Blake or Daniel, we can get that number to twenty.”

  “Stop thinking in numbers all the time. And no, we didn’t. I’m working on it.”

  Pacing in front of my desk, he says, “If you finally found a woman who isn’t working on bagging you, she’s a keeper.”

  “Interesting yardstick you’re using.” My clipped tone does nothing to tone down his enthusiasm. I decide to keep to myself that she all but told me I was out o
f my mind when I gave her a ruby and expected her to accept it. He’ll tell me to marry her. I swore off that years ago, after one too many disappointments with women. Ava’s here for four months, and she said she doesn’t want to do long-distance relationships. We can enjoy each other while she’s here, no other expectations.

  “I can’t wait to tell Pippa.”

  I eye my brother. “What are you? The family’s messenger? Don’t tell her anything, or I won’t hear the end of it. Why don’t we actually talk about the next meeting?”

  “That’s what I was here for before you fell into your weird trance.” He drops in his seat again, and we go through the retail stores’ numbers. Some of the stores are underperforming, such as Tylon’s and Derenbilt.

  “We have to cut Tylon's loose. It’s bleeding money and they keep making empty promises.”

  “I agree. Derenbilt is also disappointing. We’ll give them until the end of this quarter to deliver results, or stop our collaboration.”

  Logan nods. We talk about the upcoming meeting a while longer, and then he says, “Pippa’s refusing to let me go with her to the divorce hearing.”

  “I know; she doesn’t want me there either.” When she told me that she and Terence have the first hearing coming up, I insisted on going with her, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

  “I don’t want her to see him on her own again. What are we going to do about it? ”

  “Nothing. She’s a grown woman. We have to respect her decisions.”

  “I hate it when you’re being sensible.” Logan snorts, looking away. “It makes me look like even more of a hothead. I want to make sure our sister is all right and that asshole gets what he deserves.” He balls his hands into fists.

  “So do I. Which is why he’ll go bankrupt faster than he can sign the divorce papers. I had some interesting calls from people he wants to work with. Apparently, he listed Bennett Enterprises as a client.”

  Logan snaps his head to me, his eyes bulging. “I knew he was an asshole. I never realized he was a blithering idiot too. He actually had the guts to list us? We set that business up for him so he wouldn’t feel inferior. Can’t believe we worried about his ego,” he finishes through gritted teeth.