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“We need to discuss the timeline of events…”
I realized Sebastien was talking and I had missed a chunk of what he said. Shit.
“....to ensure that the most important things occur when the exclusive guests are there…”
Sebastien went on to talk about seating arrangements, the menu, the wines to be served and the type of entertainment he expected. As the evening wore on, I realized Sebastien was as to oil as I was water.
We. Did. Not. Mix.
Pissed that I had to stay back and give up my rocky road Ice cream, I had to refrain from telling him to go to hell more times than I dared to admit. After four excruciating hours, we had compiled notes and agreed to finalize them on Monday morning.
Happy to finally get rid of Sebastien for the weekend, I grabbed my handbag and slung it over my shoulder, leaving the files that I wanted to take home earlier. After working an extra four hours tonight, I had zero desire to see another file until Monday morning.
“Have a good weekend, Mr. Quantum,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I’ll drop you off. You can’t drive by this time of the night.”
Was that a suggestion or a command?
“If I had left at five p.m., as planned, I wouldn’t have to drive at this time, would I?” I snapped.
I was so sick and tired of this man.
Sebastien glared at me impatiently, ignoring what I just said. “I’ll drop you home so I’ll know you got home safe.”
“Mr. Quantum. I’m an adult. I can get myself home. And when I do get home, I can send you a text to let you know I arrived safely.”
Annoyed by his demands, I exited the office, praying he wouldn’t follow me down the steps to try to convince me to let him take me home. He didn't, and a part of me felt disappointed as I made my way to my car.
Fumbling through my handbag, searching for my key, I watched as Sebastien stepped out of the building. He spoke with Tony before he headed for his black Porsche. I was hoping that he’d drive away first, but he didn’t.
When I found my key, I hopped into the car, ready to get my weekend started. I strapped on my seatbelt and pushed the key in the ignition. Nothing.
“Come on baby, start.”
I kept trying, but the car refused to start. I placed my head on the steering wheel. First Sebastien, now this. Could things get any worse?
A tap on the window startled me.
Yes, it definitely could.
Sebastien was standing outside my car motioning for me to roll down my windows, which I reluctantly did.
He propped one hand on the top of her car and leaned over to speak to me.
“Is something wrong with your car?”
No shit, Sherlock.
I bit my lower lip just in time to keep the words from falling out of my mouth, then looked up at him.
“I’ll be fine.”
That was a lie from the deepest pits of hell. I had no money at my disposal to fix my car. I wasnotfine.
His voice was gentle and his eyes flashed concern as he continued to speak, not like the self-absorbed man that I had spent the last four hours butting heads with. “Ms. Malone, if your car is having problems, I can have my mechanic come check it out for you in the morning.”
He’s asking nicely. Give the man a break.