Page 70 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

ERICA

A s I pass through the doors of the Hawkston Mayfair, there’s a tugging in my chest; a tearing pain, as though I’ve left my heart outside the doors in Seb Hawkston’s hands.

My knees feel weak and pinpricks skim my skin. I can’t do this.

He was not supposed to be here tonight, and he’s here with her .

The way he froze, unmoving, holding my gaze like a lifeline, tugged on my heart, and not in a good way.

I need to sit down, lean against the wall, anything other than keep walking across the lobby as if nothing happened.

There’s a buzz inside my skull; every memory of Seb has reignited, and his voice hums through my mind with a million previous conversations.

You’re the other half of my soul.

“That was awkward,” Michael murmurs, and it doesn’t surprise me that he knows. Everyone knows. “He could at least have said hello.”

“I didn’t.”

He doesn’t stop, eyes focused on the entrance to the restaurant, where our table is waiting. He offers me the barest glance. “Didn’t what?”

“Say hello. I didn’t say hello either.”

Michael frowns, then his brow smoothes as he looks around.

“Busy in here tonight,” he says, indicating the reams of people leaving the ballroom in their evening wear.

His lack of concern for me and what I might be experiencing reminds me how stupid and shallow this date is.

The casual way he can shrug off the encounter with Seb is another wound, albeit struck without intention.

He’s already forgotten about it because seeing Seb didn’t shift his world off its axis the way it did mine.

I’m alone in this agony.

I shouldn’t have agreed to this date. I’m not ready, on any level, to be out with someone else.

I don’t want to be. I only agreed because Amy suggested it, and I know it makes sense for the movie and my future as an actress.

But the sight of Seb lifting Diana off her feet, swinging her around as though they had some real, genuine connection, caused a riot in my stomach.

I might throw up.

But I don’t. I stick on a fake smile and follow Michael to the restaurant because he’s one of the most influential actors in Hollywood, and if I can’t have Seb, I will damn well have this career.

I will not fall apart. I refuse to fall apart.

My heart is thundering like it means to shatter my ribs. If I were to throw up, it might dislodge from my chest and spew itself out onto the restaurant floor with the remains of my last meal. In a daze, I follow Michael to our table, my legs shaky and my hands trembling as I take my seat.

The sound is muted in the restaurant. Conversations are quiet and respectful, whispered amidst the gentle clink of cutlery on fine porcelain crockery, but I’m hardly aware of any of it because Seb has taken up residence in my mind, occupying every available space.

Reminding myself to slow my rapid breathing, I focus on Michael sitting opposite me.

“Let’s have some red,” he declares, perusing the wine list. Before I can respond, he summons the sommelier and orders a bottle of red, which arrives promptly, and once Michael has tasted and approved it, the sommelier fills a glass for both of us.

I don’t drink —haven’t touched the stuff since the wedding— and he didn’t even ask.

I’m about to tell him, but his gaze rises to something behind me. Every vain hope fills my lungs and I can’t draw in a scrap of air . Please, let it be Seb .

“Lefroy.”

Oh, God. Even though I wanted him, Seb’s voice has a panicky heat unfurling through my chest. He’s behind me, and if I turn, I could see him. Touch him. Speak to him.

Michael flashes a sleazy grin as he leans back in his chair, gaze fixed over my head. “Well, as I live and breathe. The man himself. Seb Hawkston.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Seb says, and I finally turn towards him, needing to know if he’s talking to me, but his gaze is fixed on Michael.

“Dude, what? I’m a paying customer. I just got here,” Michael replies.

“You’re in my seat,” Seb says with calm determination.

Michael’s mouth opens a fraction, features twisting with a sneer as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Your seat?”

“That’s what I said.” Seb gestures to Michael’s chair. “My seat.” He raises both hands to take in our surroundings. “This is a Hawkston Hotel. My fucking name on the door.” He gestures to me. “No one brings my woman here but me.”

My woman?

Michael glances at me. “Babe, what?”

I have no idea what’s going on, but hearing Seb refer to me that way doesn’t make me mad. I know it should, because how dare he , but it sets my soul alight and butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Michael calling me babe , on the other hand, has no such effect.

“Don’t call me babe,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

A muscle twitches in Seb’s jaw and he directs himself to Michael. “My brother broke your nose once. Let’s not make it twice. I need to speak to Erica, alone.”

Michael raises both hands. “Nah, man. We’re on a date.”

A cool, violent expression descends over Seb’s face. “If you’re genuinely interested in Erica, tell her now, and she can choose between us. But if you’re in this for the PR, for the movie, because you look good together, then get the fuck out before I have you dragged out.”

Michael glares at Seb and the moment crystallizes, ready to shatter. My heart pounds and I look around, noting that the other diners are watching the interaction and whispering.

Michael throws his napkin on the table, lifts his wine glass, and swallows the contents before he stands. “Fine. She’s all yours.”

I feel nothing as he walks away, even though every head in the room turns to watch him. He might be the most gorgeous man in Hollywood, the Brad Pitt of our generation, but he’s not the one for me. In a world where Seb Hawkston exists, Michael could never be the one for me.

Seb doesn’t sit in the vacated chair, but continues to stand at the side of the table, perfectly attired in his tailored black tie suit.

It’s only been a few weeks since I saw his face, but my memory of it holds nothing to the real thing.

His jaw is so strong it looks like someone carved it from stone, and there’s a softness in his eyes that makes me want to cry.

He slides one hand into his pocket, and although the gesture is casual, tension lines his shoulders.

“Hey, Lefroy,” he purrs, and a pressure grows at the base of my throat as though all the tears I haven’t shed are waiting right there for me to let them out as soon as he says another word.

“Hey.” My voice is barely a whisper.

“Are you with Michael Drayton?”

“If I was, I’m not anymore.” Seb’s jaw clenches at my response, and I swallow to clear the lump in my throat before I continue. “What’s going on? Weren’t you with your fiancée outside?”

“She’s not my fiancée.”

I briefly close my eyes to tamp down the swell of emotion that’s crashing, wave after wave, against my ribcage. When I open them, Seb is still staring at me. “She’s not?”

“Not anymore. It’s over. That’s what we were celebrating. That’s what you saw out there. That’s why I was hugging her.”

“It’s over?”

“Yes. It’s over. It was never real to begin with, but it’s over now.”

My upper body slumps, and I prop my elbow on the table to catch it, hand cupping my mouth. “How? Why?”

“There’s a lot to explain. But ever since the engagement was announced, and you left the island, I’ve spent every waking moment trying to work out how to get out of it, so I could choose you.

You are, and always will be, my only choice.

I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you at the time, but my father threatened to have me charged with soliciting underage women. ”

My pulse beats faster. “What?”

“It was all false, but he’d had photos made up, grotesque images of me and a girl I didn’t know, and he had people ready to act as witnesses and testify against me.

She was ready to give evidence too. And I really thought he’d do it.

He was draining money from my accounts. I’m pretty sure he had people watching me.

Watching us . He was responsible for our stuff being stolen from the photo shoot. ”

I can’t process everything he’s telling me. It’s too much, and I have a million questions, but I settle on the most obvious. “Why?”

Seb rakes a hand through his hair. “He wanted to convince Diana’s father to let him build a hotel on his land, and the engagement between Diana and me was part of the deal.

I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d ever want to be with me in a way that wasn’t fake or for show, and I justified it to myself by thinking that our arrangement would be over before the news about Diana came out.

I could help you with your career for three months, and then we’d go our separate ways and I would do what my father needed me to do.

But as soon as we slept together, I knew for sure that this thing between us wasn’t all pretend, and that I couldn’t go through with the marriage.

“When you told me Dad was on the island, I went to him and told him that I wasn’t marrying Diana because I wanted to be with you.

That I was choosing you. That he could do whatever he wanted and I would fight him on it.

But then, the night of the wedding, he threatened your career instead.

Your role in the movie. Your future in Hollywood.

He has contacts that would have shut you out of all the major production houses.

You would have lost the role in Taming the Beast . ”

I give a pitiful laugh that morphs into a sob. “God, Seb. You can be so stupid sometimes.” He frowns, and I continue, “If you’d told me what was going on, I would have given it all up. In a heartbeat, I would have given the whole thing up. I would have chosen you.”

He holds my gaze a beat too long before he speaks. “I could never have lived with myself for making you choose. I know how much you wanted it. How much you needed it.”