Page 2 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

“The thing is,” I say with caution, “I already told you my life story last night, and if you can’t remember it—”

He tips his chin. “I remember that you hate your mother.”

I gape. “I didn’t say that.”

“Maybe not exactly. I’m paraphrasing. If I remember correctly, she’s effectively your agent and manager.

You’re very grateful for everything she’s done for you, but she’s got greater control over your life than you’d like.

You’re resentful, but you feel guilty about it because now you’re on the cusp of super-stardom, and it’s because of everything your mother pushed you to do. ”

I’m speechless. He’s recalled everything I said to him last night when he was slumped on the sofa, the last one here. I didn’t think he was even conscious, let alone paying attention to every word I said.

“You listened,” I blurt.

He pushes off the sofa and stands, running both hands through his hair before he adjusts the knot of his tie. "Yeah, it stuck in my head because my dad’s a raging narcissist too."

This brings me up short, and the nonchalant way he announces it only amplifies my confusion.

I’d never thought of Mum as a narcissist. Ambitious?

Absolutely. Bitter because Dad left her for another woman when he found out she was pregnant with me?

Definitely. But a narcissist? I’m not even sure what it means, and there’s something about the word that sounds almost evil.

I don’t want to expose my ignorance so I say, “Is he? "

“Sure.” He shrugs like he’s unmoved by what he’s saying.

Either he’s resigned to the idea of having a raging narcissist for a father, or he’s so deep in denial that he can’t feel any pain attached to the idea.

“He built a global hotel chain from nothing. You don’t get that kind of success in one lifetime unless you’re prepared to bulldoze everyone in your way.

It demands the subjugation of everything and everyone else. ”

“Oh.” I sound surprised, but I have no idea what else to say. Should I comfort him? He doesn’t look like he needs it, and before I can decide upon a course of action, he shrugs again.

“People want what they want,” he says. “The people who get it are the ones who are prepared to go further. Push harder. Sacrifice more. I don’t think anyone truly successful isn’t at least a bit of a narcissist. They say a lot of billionaires are psychopaths. Or sociopaths. One or the other.”

“Aren’t you… you know…” Stop talking. Stop talking, Erica . “Worth a lot? Tatler said you—”

He raises a brow, a smile ghosting his lips. “Tatler?”

A blush rages over my cheeks. Definitely should have stopped talking .

“Sure.” I nod at the coffee table where the latest copy lies.

There’s a picture of me on the front, but there’s an article inside about Seb and his brothers, and the teaser headline is on the cover in gold lettering next to my face.

‘ The Hawkston Billionaires. Meet the men who changed the way you sleep at night.’

“That’s a great picture,” Seb says, indicating the magazine cover before he lazily waves his hand in the air. “But you shouldn’t believe everything you read. I’d have thought you would have learnt that by now.”

The condescending tinge to his voice pisses me off. “So you aren’t worth two billion dollars? The ladies will riot when they find out.”

He tilts his head ever so slightly as his gaze drops to my mouth. “I’d like to see you riot.”

The air fills with sexual tension, which seeps through my skin and settles between my legs like a hot, pulsing ball. I lower my head and stare at the floor. Turns out, I can’t give as good as I get with this man and maintain it. I take a breath and glance up, trying to keep my cool. “So you don’t—”

His eyes narrow. “Why do you want to know?”

I sit a little straighter, meeting his gaze head on. “I’m just trying to work out if I’m alone in the house with a psychopath.”

His laugh is loud, and I get a heady rush knowing I elicited that beautiful sound from his mouth.

“I didn’t have to bulldoze anyone to get what I have, but let’s not talk about money.

” He rolls his shoulders. “I’ll get out of your hair.

I’m really sorry about...” He gestures to the sofa.

“You should have kicked me out. I’d have survived out there. ”

“You could hardly walk.”

“I would have been fine. I’ve got a driver waiting in the car outside.

” He winces and groans, his voice full of regret when he speaks.

“Fuck, he probably had a worse night’s sleep than I did.

” He drags a hand down his face, but cuts the gesture short, letting his hand fall to his side as he looks around at the mess. “You need a hand clearing up?”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“Is it? Because I remember you freaking out about your mum turning up this morning and finding out you threw a party.”

I clasp my hands between my knees. Even if I do go to the casting, Mum could still let herself in. She has her own set of keys and she mentioned wanting to come and see my new apartment. So I need to clean before I leave, and I’d really like to leave before she gets here.

Seb, reading my hesitation as the doubt it is, removes his jacket, chucks it on the sofa as if it’s not the finest Savile Row tailoring I’ve ever seen, loosens his tie, and whips it free from beneath his collar.

The whoosh of it has heat unfurling in my lower belly.

This man . He throws the tie on his jacket and begins removing a pair of cufflinks that look like solid gold.

He slips them out with nimble fingers, dropping them into his trouser pocket.

I hold my breath, watching as he methodically rolls up the first shirt sleeve, exposing a tanned, muscled forearm inch by inch, like some cruel striptease. I’m so captivated by the ripple and flex of his tendons and the veins that slip through the muscles that he might as well be stripping naked.

That hot pulse returns between my thighs, and I press my legs together, continuing to stare with my mouth open. It’s only when I feel his attention skate my skin that I look up to find amusement dancing in those blue eyes.

I didn’t think I could get any hotter, but much more of this and I’ll be using that copy of Tatler as a fan.

He moves to the second sleeve without a word, his attention back on his task, but the curve of his lips tells me he’s still thinking about catching me gawking at him and enjoying the recollection.

I don’t know how to feel about that.

“Come on,” he says when he’s finished, grinning at me like we’re already the best of friends as he holds out a hand to pull me off the sofa. “If I help you clean up, can I come back?”

Come back? Huh? “To fuck?” I cup my hand over my mouth as soon as the words leave it, and he laughs so loud and warm that it heats my stomach and diffuses through my body like clouds of steam.

“If you want,” he says with a grin that’s wider than any that came before.

I shake my head, but I can’t help mirroring him with a smile of my own. “I don’t.”

His hand is still outstretched, and I take it. A minor shockwave pulses up my arm at the strength of his grip and the skin-to-skin contact. We stay that way for a fraction of a second too long before he pulls me to standing.

“Okay.” He releases my hand and slides his into his trouser pocket. “Just to hang out then.”

"Why would you want to do that?" The question comes out sounding as though I think he’s insane to want to. As if the idea that he might want to spend time with me is crazy. I guess the fact someone like Seb is here at all is a sign of how much my life has changed in the past few years. I’ve gone from obscurity to fame and fortune in under eighteen months.

And, regardless of whatever I said to Seb last night, I have my mother to thank for that.

He lifts a shoulder. “Why not?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you asking me out?”

He narrows his eyes right back, mimicking my suspicion. “Would you like me to?”

That flush of warmth hits again, and a bubble expands in my throat; a giggle desperate to be released. I swallow it down. “No. I don’t date.”

“Ah. Mummy says no?”

I cringe. “No. Well, yes. Kind of.”

The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence. It feels like I’m in a therapy session.

“How old are you?” Seb asks.

“Twenty. How old are you?” I know exactly how old he is, but I repeat his question anyway.

“Twenty-five.” He rubs a hand along his jaw. “So can I see you again? I know you don’t date but… as friends?”

Friends . The word leaves a buzz in the air, like the ringing in my ears after an alarm has shut off.

It’s a seemingly innocent request, but there’s nothing innocent about this man or how he makes me feel.

He’s not like Nico, the professional businessman.

He’s… different . To me, much more appealing, and that’s the risk.

Could I maintain a friendship with someone like Seb Hawkston without crossing that dangerous line?

And then there’s Mum to consider. She definitely won’t like me seeing him, even if it’s just as ‘friends’.

He’s everything she dislikes in a man. The charm, the sexual energy, the money, and the power.

He’s her worst nightmare; the type of guy who’d lead any woman astray, or worse, abandon them and publicly humiliate them.

Thing is, she might be right because Tatler didn’t just list his estimated net worth.

It listed all the women he’s been seen with over the last couple of years.

And it was a lot . My brand— Erica Lefroy —is valuable.

It’s not just my name; it’s our company, and Mum owns fifty per cent of it.

Now that I’m more established in the modelling world, she has plans to expand into fashion, perfume, and cosmetics.

And I guess I’m going with her. Me being associated with the ultimate playboy, when my whole brand is based on purity and innocence, wouldn’t work for the business plan.

I should say no. That’s the right answer.

We’ll inevitably see each other again either way.

London is a small place when you move in certain circles.

But to see him privately ? Just the thought of it has nerves cascading through me like water through a broken dam.

He shouldn’t even be here now, let alone come back again .

And yet the thought of not sharing another private moment with him feels so wrong, it’s almost frightening.

Maybe I can step out of Mum’s shadow just a tiny bit.

I already threw the party, although the longer I sit here not clearing away the mess, the more those nerves cascade, raging like a river that could drag me under.

But maybe enduring them would be worth it, and I can have this one thing for me .

A friendship with Seb Hawkston. I’ll have to clear away all the evidence that such a thing exists, like I’m covering tracks in the snow with a fallen tree branch.

I was never here . And I’ll never date him; that’s a line I won’t cross.

But friendship… I could do that, right? Well, I want to try, at least.

I swallow hard and say it quickly before I can stop myself.

“Yes. You can see me again. I'd like that.”