Page 62 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

ERICA

T he island has filled up while Seb and I were otherwise occupied, and it’s almost shocking to see how many people have descended for the wedding.

The place is teaming with well-dressed men and women in brightly coloured outfits, and there are a huge number of yachts anchored nearby.

More luxury boats than I’ve ever seen in one place.

And I’ve seen a fair few when I’ve been on photo shoots.

Seb and I had so much sex that I’m still aching when I sit down at the wedding ceremony, and when Kate walks down the aisle looking like an angel in the sinking light of the afternoon sun.

I’m still aching when Nico tells everyone he loves her and will worship her for the rest of his life.

Still aching when they kiss and everyone claps, and Elly and Marie, in their sleek bridesmaids’ dresses, yelp and squeal, and Seb looks dashing in his suit.

It’s too hot for jackets, but the guys kept them on for the service. I don’t envy them.

I’m still aching when Seb catches my eye after the service and winks at me as he walks back down the aisle.

Still aching. But it’s a good ache. It’s an ache that belongs to me and Seb, to our kisses and sweat-slicked skin and breathless orgasms that he wrung from me over and over again.

I didn’t want to get out of bed, but we had to get up and showered and changed for the wedding service.

Now, I’m standing with a glass of sparkling mineral water at the reception drinks, talking to Elly, Aries and Marie, the latter of whom hasn’t mentioned Seb’s pierced dick, thank goodness.

If she raises the topic, I’ll probably melt.

It might not be pierced, but it’s perfect .

I love it. I love him. I love every part of him.

I don’t know why I haven’t told him yet; I’ve wanted to say it so many times, and yet I’m still holding back like I’m waiting for something. But what, I don’t know.

I’m hardly listening to what Marie is saying as I glance over at Seb.

After the service, everyone ditched the formal dress to a certain degree, and he’s taken off his jacket.

His linen shirt is loose at the collar, the sleeves rolled up, and navy trousers hang from lean hips.

A pair of aviator sunglasses perches on the bridge of his nose.

He looks so good that it’s hard to look away.

He’s talking to Nico and Matt, making them laugh as though he hasn’t ever suffered anything out of the ordinary.

As if he is, and always has been, the happiest guy alive.

He looks like he’s having the time of his life.

So casual. So relaxed. Maybe he really can shrug off every unsavory experience like it was nothing.

Or maybe it’s an act. Maybe he’s performing for them.

For everyone. Maybe he’s always been performing.

The thought unnerves me. He might have shown me a piece of something real today, but how much is he still holding back?

We’ve barely spoken about the fact we didn’t use a condom that first time.

My period’s due next week, and Google seems to suggest I’m not at the right time in my cycle to get pregnant, but to be honest, it’s not something I’ve ever thought about before.

I have a latent panic over it, humming in my blood like the background drone of a far-off aircraft.

I can’t get pregnant. Can’t have a baby. I’m about to make a movie. I’ve finally got the role of a lifetime, and the man of my dreams and… nope . I’m stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere. I’m not even gonna think about it. Not yet, at least.

A nudge to my elbow brings me back. “Reckon there’s something going on there?” Marie whispers, and I look at where she’s pointing with her champagne glass.

Diana Marchetti is standing beneath a palm tree, a little way away from the main party. She’s leaning against the trunk, and her bodyguard stands nearby, a fraction too close, his hands behind his back. I’m not sure what Marie thinks she can see, because I can’t see it.

“I think you’re imagining it,” I say.

“No, definitely not. Wait… wait…” She hovers her hand in the air, and when the bodyguard steps closer behind Diana to whisper in her ear, Marie says, “There.”

He steps back as if nothing is amiss, eyes alert and checking out the crowd. His gaze flicks to me and Marie, at which Marie’s eyes pop and she turns away.

“You’re definitely imagining it,” I say. “That was nothing. He’s just doing his job.”

She fans her face. “Maybe, but he’s hot. I can totally see why she would. Ridiculous, of course. They can’t actually end up together. Not with a man like Antonio Marchetti as a father.”

“No?”

“God, no. I hear he’s very controlling. He’ll have some arranged marriage lined up for her.”

I stare at Diana, remembering how quickly Seb had shut down his phone all those weeks ago when I’d found him looking at pictures of her.

He’d been strange too when I mentioned that his father had brought the Marchettis to the wedding, rushing off to talk to his dad like his life was on the line.

I have no idea what might be wrong, so I try my best not to worry about it.

Marie grips my arm, gesturing towards an older gentleman striding across the sand towards Diana and her bodyguard.

“Forget the bodyguard,” Marie says. “Who’s that?

He’s gorgeous. Ooh, Diana. Choose him,” she coos, as if she’s Cupid and has some say in Diana’s love life.

“How old do you think he is? Mid-forties?” She lets out a little sigh.

“The men really flock to her, eh? She’s beautiful, that’s for sure. ”

But I’m not looking at Diana, because the older man approaching her is Arthur Knatchbull, the man who picked me for the Claudia Kirchwood photo shoot, and with a single choice changed the trajectory of my career.

My life. I haven’t ever met him in person and I didn’t know he was going to be here, or that he had a connection to the Hawkston family.

My heart races a little faster knowing that the man who changed my life is here, and after all these years, I’ll finally get to meet him.

“That she is,” says a deep voice.

I turn to find Mr Hawkston standing at my elbow, and it takes me a second to realise he’s talking about Diana being beautiful. Marie turns to him too, but he doesn’t greet either of us; instead, he keeps his gaze fixed on Diana.

Marie catches my eye and frowns, but neither of us speaks. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Mr Hawkston turns to me. “You’re an actress?”

“A model,” I correct. I don’t want to say anything else, but then I reconsider. Why should I hide my achievement from this man? It’s mine, and I worked damn hard for it, and I am excited about the future. “But I am moving into movies. I’ve been cast as Vanessa in Taming the Beast .”

“Oh, no shit,” Marie jumps in. “I read that. Awesome book. Real page-turner.” Mr Hawkston doesn’t react to Marie’s words at all. She mouths at me behind his back, “ Kinky as fuck .”

Mr Hawkston eyes me, and the sensation of having given away something important slithers in my gut like a snake. “Congratulations, Ms Lefroy.”

“Thanks,” I say, but there’s no way I’m sticking about for more conversation with this creep.

Shaking off Mr Hawkston’s oily congratulations, I excuse myself and pace across the sand towards Arthur Knatchbull and Diana Marchetti. Excitement filters through me as I approach the man who changed my life.

“Mr Knatchbull,” I say, stepping towards him. He turns from his conversation with Diana. “I’m Erica Lefroy. We’ve never met, but I’ve always wanted to tell you how thankful I am that you chose me for the Claudia Kirchwood shoot.”

He raises a brow, confusion dusting his handsome features as he tries to make sense of what I’ve allowed to explode from my mouth. Diana glances away, her lips tightly pressed together.

Come on, Erica. Keep your cool.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’m just so excited to meet you,” I say, in a mangled attempt to make it better. “That shoot changed my life. If you hadn’t chosen me, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

“Miss Lefroy,” he says, his voice all cool decorum and a deep upper class British accent.

“An honour to meet you after all this time.” He holds out his hand, which I shake.

Diana watches us with a poise that belongs to an older woman.

I notice she’s wearing a pair of my shoes, and when my gaze darts back up from her feet, she gives me a warm smile, which I return without reserve.

I turn back to Arthur Knatchbull. “Thank you. But the honour is all mine. I’ve always wanted to tell you in person how grateful I am that you chose me.”

He holds up a hand. “I have to stop you because I won’t take credit where it’s not due. I didn’t choose you.”

Oh, shit. My stomach falls. “You didn’t?”

“No.” Silence pricks the air as the three of us stand in an awkward horseshoe on the sand.

“So who did—”

“Seb.”

Shock ricochets through me like shrapnel, and I have to stop my hand from slapping against my wounded chest. My thoughts scatter in a million different directions, and it’s all I can do to gather them enough to say, “Seb? As in… Sebastian Hawkston?”

Arthur smiles at my repetition of the name. “Yes. He barged into my office one day, many years ago now, and threw a high street catalogue across my desk.”

His words scoop the air from my lungs, leaving me dizzy and breathless, and struggling to make sense of anything. “Wait, so it wasn’t my mother? She didn’t bring you my portfolio?”

He frowns. “Your mother? No. I’ve never met your mother.

It was Seb. He told me he’d found the next big thing.

I laughed at how sure he was about it. He said he’d never seen a face like yours.

Something about your eyes. He thought he could see a sadness in them, and he made me swear to put you in my next project. ”