Page 31 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

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S he likes her mark on my skin? What the fuck does that mean?

I’m pretty sure she knew I had a hard-on, but I have no fucking clue how she felt about it. If we had been in private, I would have had no doubt that she was into it. Into me . But this is her job. She could probably pretend to look any way whatsoever at the drop of a hat.

She saunters to the door, opening it to allow everyone back into the room and they file in like unruly school children returning from detention, shooting glances my way.

“Let’s put one of the photos on social media now,” Erica says when she returns to me, grabbing my hand and tugging me over to the photographer, who’s already loading images up onto a laptop.

“Now?” I ask, confusion wrecking my voice. I can’t fucking focus after what just happened, and Erica is already back to business. We’re definitely not on the same fucking page here.

“Yeah. We’re an item, so let’s tease it.”

Sensing us approaching, the photographer glances over his shoulder. “Erica, these are fantastic. You two have intense chemistry. It’s sparking off the screen.”

Erica peers over his shoulder at a load of photos of us looking as though we’re about to strip each other naked and fuck like bunnies.

Bunnies . No. I don’t fuck like a bunny. I fuck like… a dog? No. Scratch that. A…

Erica nudges my arm, saving me from the peril of my own thoughts.

“Wow, look at you,” she muses, pointing at the screen.

“You’re a natural. Thank you so much for doing this for me.

” She catches my eye as I lean over the screen next to her, and there’s what appears to be genuine gratitude scrawled across her face.

I feel a flush of pride at having been able to help her pull this off.

“Truly, I appreciate it. I know this is not your thing at all.”

My chest tightens. Having Erica straddle me in her underwear? That’s always going to be my thing. “Anytime,” I say casually.

She focuses again on the screen, leaning over the photographer to take control and scroll through the images, humming with what sounds like appreciation as she peruses them. She stops abruptly. “This one. Don’t you think?”

I look at the photo she’s chosen. Her head is thrown back, and the expression on her face is one of ecstasy as my hand closes around her throat.

I look a little like I’m either about to kill her or ravage her.

It’s a brilliant photo. I want it blown up and stuck on my bedroom ceiling. Is that weird?

But putting it on social media? That seems… provocative . It’s going to mess with Dad and any ideas he has about marrying me off to Diana Marchetti. Anxiety churns in my gut, but I’m too far in to pull back, and I want to do it for Erica. I give a nonchalant shrug. “It’s okay.”

“Great.” Erica calls over the assistant I recognise from the fashion show and instructs her to upload it on her social media accounts with a filter to hide the fact it’s unedited and a caption about us being a couple and the launch of her new fragrance.

The assistant agrees and moves into action.

“I’m going to shower,” I say, moving off towards the changing room.

I’ve half a mind to have a quick wank just to rid myself of the sexual tension, but Erica follows me, walking right behind me in her underwear.

I’m so aware of her presence, she may as well have jumped on my back and clung there. I spin. “What are you doing?”

She recoils a little at the sharp edge to my voice. “Unisex changing rooms.”

“Right.” I stifle a groan. I can’t catch a break today; all I need is a moment alone, or at least without Erica, to calm down.

I push into the locker room, grab a fresh towel and head for the shower. I let myself into a cubicle, strip off the jeans and my boxers and stand under the running water, lathering myself up to get the stubborn marks off my skin and the shit out of my hair.

And Erica out of my head.

I'm almost finished when a squeal comes from the changing room, jarring my heart. I slam off the water, grab my towel, and dash back out. “Erica?”

“Oh, my God. Seb.” She’s standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed, staring into an empty locker. “My stuff is gone.”

“What stuff?”

“My wallet. My bag.”

“Really?” I glance where she’s pointing and then my gaze flits to the locker next to it, where I put all my stuff. My stomach sinks. It’s open too.

That prickling feeling that trickled down my spine earlier comes back to me. This is no coincidence.

I step towards it and pull the door fully open. I locked this. I know I did. I pull my suit off the hanger, checking the pockets, but a nasty certainty is already filling my gut.

Nothing.

No phone. No wallet.

Erica’s watching me, waiting for some kind of signal from me as to what we should do.

“Who is gonna steal our stuff here?” I ask. “Aren’t you employing everyone?”

“No. There are loads of other photo shoots and filming going on. This place is huge. I have no idea who comes in and out.”

Fucking brilliant. But who cares? “Let’s go have lunch.”

Erica blinks at me like I’ve gone mad. “Lunch? We just got robbed. I need to cancel my cards—”

“Relax. We can report them stolen later.”

“We have to go to the police. I have ￡200,000 in my current account.”

“I have ￡28 million in mine,” I deadpan.

Her jaw drops, eyes widening. “Then we should definitely cancel the cards.”

“Sure.” I hurriedly dry myself and start dressing.

Erica averts her eyes as I pull on my shirt, but I still have the towel around my hips, and when I grab my boxers, she fully turns around to let me dress.

I haul them on beneath the towel and in moments I’m decent, tie and jacket and all. “I’ll deal with it.”

I stride out into the corridor, Erica at my heels again. “You’ll deal with it? What does that mean?”

I stop the next person walking towards us, a young woman, and I explain the situation to her, telling her I need to use her phone.

She blushes, flutters her lashes at me, tucks her hair behind her ear and lends me her phone.

I thank her and step away to call my PA, instructing her to cancel all my cards and sort out my phone.

When I’m done, I pass the phone to Erica, who’s hovering nearby.

“What?” she asks.

“Give her your details. She’ll sort you out.”

Erica takes the phone and speaks to my PA for a few minutes, hangs up then hands the phone back to me. “Is that it?”

“Yeah. She’ll fix it.”

“Wow. That's amazing. Thank you.” Erica beams at me, but then her delight flickers like a dying candle before snuffing out entirely, and something dark and unpleasant rushes in to take its place, seemingly out of nowhere. “Have you slept with her?”

I recoil. I’ve just been rock solid underneath this woman, unable to think of anything else but the way her body moves over mine, and she’s asking if I’m screwing my assistant?

A dull mist of annoyance fogs my mind, but beneath it is something subtler and more appealing.

Is it possible Erica cares who I sleep with?

I want her to care. I do . But she said everything that happened between us during that photo shoot, and afterwards, meant nothing.

So why the fuck does she sound like she cares?

“She’s not helping us out because I fucked her,” I say, my confusion making me sound more aggressive than I mean to. “She’s doing it because it’s her job.”

Erica crosses her arms over her chest. “But did you fuck her?”

“No. She’s my PA. I don’t mix business and pleasure. You said my sex life was none of your business, so why are you asking?”

A confused expression passing over her beautiful face, almost as though she doesn’t know the answer. Or perhaps doesn’t like whatever response springs to mind.

I step a little closer, keeping my voice low. “Make up your mind, Lefroy.”

My words hang heavy in the air, and Erica seems to choke on them, her thick eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she coughs.

Leaving her standing in the middle of the corridor clearing her throat as she frowns at the floor, I pace back towards the young woman and hand the phone back to her. Thankfully, she’s been waiting too far away to have heard a word of Erica’s accusations.

“Thanks so much,” I say to her. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Her blush deepens as she takes the phone, our fingers brushing. I feel nothing, but she flinches slightly at the touch. “Erm, that’s okay.” She composes herself and locks eyes with me. “Could I…”

Well, damn . I know what she’s going to ask because it happens all the time. Her gaze drops away, taking my stomach with it. I really don’t need this, what with Erica already convinced I’m always jumping in and out of a new woman’s bed.

“Could you what?” I ask gently.

Erica paces to join us, looking composed and beautiful once more.

“Could I get your number?” the girl asks.

And there it is . Bold of her to ask me out when I’m standing with The Erica Lefroy . Then again, she hasn’t really looked at Erica properly, so perhaps she hasn’t seen her or doesn’t know who she is.

Erica shoulders me aside, one territorial hand clamping around my arm. “You can’t. Because we’re together. Exclusively. He’s not giving his number to anyone.”

The vehemence with which Erica is fending this woman off has warmth stirring in my chest. She was so adamant after the photo shoot that she felt nothing, that I could never have imagined this scenario arising. And fuck, it feels good to be claimed by her, even if it is completely fake.

“Oh. Oh . I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean…” the woman trails off and walks away so fast she’s almost running.

“The cheek of her,” Erica says when she’s out of earshot. “So rude. Couldn’t she see I was with you? I was standing right—”

“You can put the claws away.” I keep walking, heading for the exit, and Erica has to increase her pace to keep abreast of me.

“Claws? I am not—”

I stop and face her. “It’s all pretend, isn’t it? There’s no need to be annoyed.”

Her eyes dart away and she huffs. “Yes, but that was rude. Obviously, we’re together.”

“She didn’t know. You were the one asking me if I was sleeping with my PA a second ago.

” My comment is the gentlest of reprimands, but Erica's gaze falls to the ground and she tilts her weight to one foot, then the other. “You don’t have to fight anyone off. You’d never have to fight anyone off if you didn’t want to. ”

She stills and her shoulders fall, but she doesn't look up. Satisfied that she’s heard me, I continue my walk to the exit. I need to get back to the office before Nico castrates me for playing truant.

“What does that mean?” she calls after me.

I spin to face her, continuing to walk backwards. “It means, I’m all yours.” I spread my arms wide. “I told you, SeblovesBJs has been on his knees for you for years.”

I kiss the fingers of one hand and hold them up to her, and the grin that breaks across her face sets my heart alight.