Chapter 12: Mr Garcia: Chapter 12

I sit up, startled.

Shit.

Oh fuck… I exhale and answer in a rush. “Hello.”

“April,” his deep voice purrs down the line.

“I was expecting this call. I’ll talk to Bart and let him know.”

“Let him know what?”

“That you don’t want me working in your office. I understand.” I close my eyes in frustration. Trust him to make this personal. “Thanks for letting me know.”

He pauses. “That’s not why I called. I have no problem working with you.”

Huh?

“Why do you still have my number?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you delete my number?”

“Like you did mine, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Because I don’t need to delete numbers to stop myself from calling people, Sebastian. I have a little bit more self-control than that.”

He stays quiet, processing my words. After a while, he replies, “I see.”

We both stay silent on the phone, as if waiting for the other person to say something.

I have so much I want to say to him and so much anger inside of me, but if I have to work with him, I need to get this off my chest.

“Sebastian,” I pause as I try to get my wording right. “I know that it doesn’t matter now, and I know it has no relevance to where we are… and I don’t even know why I feel like I really have to say this, but I’m sorry that…”

“What, April?”

“That you thought that I was with your son.”

He stays silent.

“Brandon and I were never together, Sebastian. I had no idea that he even had a crush on me until he kissed me on your front doorstep. I was as horrified as you were—”

“You and I weren’t together,” he cuts me off.

“In my eyes, we were.” I feel myself getting emotional. What is it about this fucking man that turns me into a sap? “I couldn’t have been with anyone else because I was too wrapped up in you.”

Silence again.

I shake my head, annoyed that I just said that out loud.

“Anyway, whatever. I don’t care anymore. I moved on years ago, but I just wanted you to know that.”

“I’m not proud of the way I handled that night, April,” he whispers.

I close my eyes, just listening to his deep voice. It brings back so many memories.

“I lost my temper,” he says softly. “I just… I couldn’t deal with it, and I needed you gone.”

“Is that your apology?”

He stays silent.

“Because calling someone a lying whore deserves an apology,” I say. “And I’ve never lied to you—not once—and you and I both know that I’m not a whore.”

“Why did you work there then?”

I feel my anger rising. “Because I walked in on my husband having sex with another woman, Sebastian!” I bark. “And I left him with nothing but the clothes on my back.” Angry tears well in my eyes. “And you have no fucking idea how it feels to be so broke that you can’t afford food and rent. So, don’t you fucking dare judge me, you entitled asshole. Why don’t you ask yourself why it’s okay for you to pay for sex? Why do you think girls work at those places, Sebastian? You think they’re there for your magical dick alone?”

“Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!” I cry. “It’s rich bastards like you who make girls like me feel cheap.” I shake my head. “Stick your pathetic apology up your ass.”

“April.”

I hit the end call button and jump out of bed with purpose, pacing back and forth. I’m too angry to lie still.

Fuck him and his judgement. He can go to Hell.

Sebastian Garcia is still an asshole.

“We got a problem,” Max says as he rushes into my office.

I glance up from my computer. “What now?”

“Theodore is a mess.”

I roll my eyes in disgust. I already know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. The Prime Minister is an asshole. “Why?”

“He’s still high from last night. Just spilled his coffee all over his shirt and thinks it’s hilarious.”

“What the fuck?” I glance at my watch. “He’s supposed to be doing a press conference in half an hour.”

“I know. The press is setting up outside number 10 as we speak.”

“Fuck’s sake,” I hiss. “I’m sick of his shit. When the hell is he going to get over his midlife crisis and do some fucking work?”

Max drags his hand down his face. “His cocaine problem is seriously out of control.” He shrugs. “How long much longer can we cover for him?”

I scratch my head in frustration. “I don’t know.” I shuffle some papers. “He was reporting on the boarder restrictions, yes?” I ask.

“Yes, you wrote the speech for him last week. Looks like you’ll have to deliver it for him, too.”

“I don’t want to deal with the media. This is not what I am assigned to do.” I bring up the report on my computer.

“Nobody else can deliver it to the media without it looking suspicious.”

“It is fucking suspicious.” I stand. “Let’s go. Where is he?”

“In the library. Marcela is looking after him in the tearoom.”

I march down the corridor and into the elevator. I take the lift up to the library and walk through to the tearoom to find Theodore spinning on his chair. He’s laughing like a child, obviously as high as a kite.

“Theo,” I say.

“Hey!” he laughs. “Garcia. Get a chair. Spin with me.”

“Where is Leona?”

“Who?”

Max and I exchange looks. This isn’t fucking good at all. “Leona. Your wife.”

“Who fucking cares?” he scoffs. “In Italy, spending my money, I expect.”

“Why don’t you go and join her? You need a vacation.”

“I’m having a holiday without my wife.” He tips the chair and falls spectacularly onto the floor.

Max and I scramble to pull him to his feet. “I’m calling Leona,” I say.

He dusts himself off. “She left me.” He stumbles back and side steps. “Said she doesn’t love me anymore.”

I exhale heavily and plant my hands on my hips. Fuck, this explains a lot.

I help him back into his seat, and he tries to spin it again. I stop it with my hand. “Stop.”

“Come on.” He claps his hands and tries to stand again. “Let’s go. It’s Tuesday, and we’ve got a press conference.”

I push him back down into his chair. “You’re not going anywhere.” I crouch down so that we are at eye level. “Theo, listen to me. I’m booking you into a private facility. You need to go to rehab.”

“What?” he explodes. “I don’t need to go to fucking rehab, Garcia. What the hell are you talking about?”

“If the press gets a hold of this, your career is going to come to abrupt end.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he growls. “You don’t control everything around here.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“Like fuck you are. You want my job.” He snatches his arm from my grip. “I don’t need your help.” He tilts and tips the chair, once again, and goes sprawling onto the floor.

Jesus. I take out my phone and call Warren from security.

“Can I have four security guards to the tearoom in the library, please?”

“Sure thing.”

“What do you need security for?” Theo growls.

I exhale heavily. Fuck this, I don’t need this shit. “Nothing to worry about, Theo.”

Two minutes later, the security guards walk in. “Yes, sir?”

I gesture to Theodore. “Keep him up here until he sobers up. Do not let him downstairs under any circumstances. He needs to sleep it off.”

Their eyes go to Theo who laughs out loud. “I’m not going to bed. I’m going to party.”

I watch Theodore. He’s off his head. “I’m going to get some intervention. He’ll be fine. I’ll be back after the press release.”

‘Yes, sir.”

I march out of the tearoom and back into the elevator.

“I’m going to have to book him into rehab before the press find out about this. How are we hitting the campaign trail with a coked-up Prime Minister?”

“He’s a train wreck waiting to happen,” Max mutters under his breath.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Don’t I know it.”

I return to my office, collect my speech, and then I head down to the press release. I take my place at the podium in front of the reporters.

“Hello,” I say as I shuffle through my papers.

“Where is Prime Minister Holsworthy?” someone asks.

“He’s unable to make it today. He has a prior engagement.”

“He was scheduled to take this meeting,” the male voice replies.

I glance over to who asked the question. Fuck, Gerhard. The sniffer dog of all sniffer dogs. Reporter of the fucking year or some shit. If there’s a story,

guaranteed, he’ll uncover it.

“Theodore sends his apologies. He had an important call from an overseas colleague he had to take,” I lie.

Gerhard’s eyes hold mine, and I know he doesn’t buy my story for one moment.

I fall into my role and address the press, anyway. “Thank you for coming. We are here to talk about the proposed boarder control changes.” I turn the page of my dossier. “As usual, please hold all questions until the end.”

My intercom buzzes. “Sebastian?”

“Yes, Rebecca,” I reply, typing on my computer.

“Bart is here.”

I hit enter. That means here.she’s

“Send them in.” I rearrange my tie and run my fingers through my hair. There’s a knock at the door. “Come in.”

The door opens and Bart comes into view, smiling broadly. “Hello, Sebastian.”

“Hi.” I stand, and my eyes drift past him to April. She’s wearing a fitted navy dress. Her blonde hair is down in soft curls, tucked behind one ear.

Her eyes find mine, and she gives me a soft smile.

My stomach twists.

“Hi.” She smiles awkwardly.

“Hello.” I put my hands into my pockets and try to hide the star struck look on my face.

Dear fucking God, she’s beautiful.

I gesture to the chairs in a fluster. “Please take a seat,” I tell them.

They both sit down, and April crosses her legs. I glance down and see the muscle in her thighs. I snap my eyes up to her face.

Stop it.

I shuffle the papers on my desk to distract myself. This damn woman turns me into a horny teenager.

“What’s the problem?” Bart asks as he unpacks his laptop.

I glance up at him.

You’re my problem. Get out so I can fuck April on my desk.

I get a vision of her lying naked on my desk, her legs open. She’s all pink and wet and…

My cock throbs, and I hesitate, trying to remember what I am supposed to be talking about.

Focus, fool.

“Theodore is having a few problems, and I need to get him into a private facility,” I finally say.

‘What kind of problems?’

‘Substance abuse.’

Bart pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was. He’s turning up to work high.”

Bart closes his eyes. “For how long?”

“A few weeks. It’s been escalating, and I don’t know how much longer I can cover it up. The staff are beginning to notice.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Bart snaps. “Why haven’t I been told about this earlier? Isn’t my job here for crisis management?”

“It isn’t a crisis,” I glare at him. This man pushes my buttons sometimes. “I do not need you to tell me your position, Bart. I’m telling you now.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Don’t,” I bark, cutting him off.

My eyes float over to April who is watching me from across the desk.

I can’t deny that there’s an electric current between us.

She moves to the left, and a little hint of her lace bra peeks through the material of her dress. I clench my jaw so that I don’t look down.

How the hell could any man not want to look down?

“How bad is it?” Bart asks.

“Bad,’ I reply. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him. Campaigning starts on Monday, and I have a Prime Minister with a major drug problem.”

“Fuck.’

April picks up her pen and places the tip in her mouth as she listens. My eyes drop to her lips. I feel the long, deep throb inside my pants as I imagine myself in her mouth, looking up at me.

The woman drives me to distraction. How the hell am I supposed to do any work around here?Fuck this.

You hate her, remember?

I get back to what I’m supposed to be doing: working.

“I’m not sure what we’re going to do or how we are going to address his absence, but I need you to find him a facility and get him checked in to get help. Hopefully then, in a week or two, he’ll be back to his best, and we can move along.” I shuffle the papers on my desk. I don’t want to be distracted by April for one more second.

Damn, this woman is fucking driving me mad. I need to get up before I begin to stare at her.

“That’ll be all for now. I’ve got another meeting I have to attend. Sorry.” I stand and walk to my door, opening it in a rush. April frowns as she looks at me, and I glare back at her.

That’s right, get out of my office, you temptress. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.

I got two hours’ worth of sleep last night. Images of that damn forbidden fruit, April Bennet, were running naked through my mind.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Spencer asks.

“Nothing.”

“Then why do you look like someone has stuck something up your ass?”

“ Get off my fucking case.”

“Listen here, you little bitch,” Spencer says. “I’ve got enough fucking hormonal women busting my balls at home. I don’t need to put up with a moody prick like you at breakfast.”

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” Julian sighs as he reads his paper.

I roll my eyes at Spencer. “Oh, you’ve got it so hard. A beautiful woman you love who’s pregnant with your fourth baby,” I mutter dryly before I sip my coffee.

“I have, actually,” Spencer says. “Charlotte is either trying to fuck me to death or she’s so hormonal that she wants to kill me. Either way, I’m a dead man walking, Sebastian.”

I smile because Spencer’s dramatics always cheer me up.

“There is nothing wrong with me, so leave me alone,” I tell him.

Masters looks over his paper. “When is your blind date with that friend of your sister?’

“Don’t even mention it. I’m not going.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Spencer says. “I saw Marcy this week, and she said that your sister has already set it up.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I exhale heavily. “I’m not in the mood for fucking blind dates. I don’t have time for this shit when everything is going wrong.”

“Like what?”

“I’m about to catch on fire. The temperature in my office is rising, and that woman is driving me crazy,” I say.

Spencer frowns. “What woman?”

I stare at them for a moment, knowing that I may as well fill them in now.

I exhale heavily. “There’s this girl.”

Masters chuckles. “I knew it. There a woman involved here. You are never in a bad mood.”is

“Just shut the fuck up, Masters,” I snap. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Remember that bad coffee woman that I met in the Escape Club that was seeing Buddy at the same time as me?”

“Yeah.”

“The woman that I had the fight with at the auction the other night is her.”

They exchange looks. “The hot blonde one?”

“Yes, and guess who turned up at my office this week as a member of my new legal team.”

Their eyes widen.

I throw my hands up in the air in disgust. “So, now I have a woman working in my office who was the best sex of my life, and I can’t act on it. Plus, she hates my guts, and here I am walking around with a fucking semi on the whole time.”

They both stare at me for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Not. Funny,” I growl.

“In other words, you’re fucked,” Masters chuckles.

“Completely.”

“What are you going to do?” Spencer asks.

“Nothing.” I rearrange the napkin on my lap. ‘I’m going to ignore April Bennet and pretend that she doesn’t exist.”

The bar is bustling, and I take another sip of my Margarita.

“How does he look, anyway?” Penelope asks.

“Good,” I sigh. I can’t think of a man more gorgeous than Sebastian Garcia.

I hate that he is.

“Too bad he’s an asshole,” Penelope shrugs.

“Don’t I know it. You know, it’s like I’m being tested. I’m thrown into a job where I have no idea what I’m doing, and it’s with the biggest asshole on the planet who is an absolute god in bed.” I sip my drink. “And the worst part is that I know he still wants me.”

“How?”

“The way he looks at me. The way his eyes drop to my lips when I speak.” I stare into space, remembering the heat of his gaze. “Everything about him screams Have sex with me, April Bennet!

God, do I want to.”

My phone beeps with a text from Duke

Nightcap?

I flick my phone off and turn it over so I can’t see the screen. “I’m going to have to deal with this.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Duke is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen!” Penelope cries. “Are you crazy?”

“I know he’s gorgeous. I know he should be everything I want, but it’s just…” I pause as I try to articulate my thoughts. I can’t because they just don’t make sense; not even to me. “I do know that I love him as a friend but that’s it. Duke deserves better.”

Penelope watches me for a moment with assessing eyes. “I know what’s wrong with Duke,” she says.

“What’s that?” I sip my drink.

“He’s not Sebastian Garcia.”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“All I’m saying is that if Garcia still floats your boat after being the biggest asshole on Earth, and you still think about him six years later…,” she scoffs. “And, may I add, you have a gorgeous man in front of you right now”—she gestures to my phone—”who you don’t even want to message back, then I think we have a problem.”

I tip my head back and drain my glass.

We have a fucking problem, all right.

We walk down the corridor toward Sebastian’s office, and I run my hands over my hips. Do I look okay?

What the hell is wrong with me? Something ridiculous is going on in my brain.

I even wore new underwear today, as if he is going to see it.

Check yourself, April. You hate this guy. Get it through your thick head.

What part of ‘Sebastian Garcia is no good for you’ don’t you understand?

We walk up to the door. ‘Come in!’ Sebastian calls.

My stomach flutters at the sound of his voice.

Damn you, what’s going on with my hormones… behave.

Sebastian stands behind his desk. His eyes drop to my feet and back up before he gives me a slow, sexy smile, as if forgetting that Bart is in the room with us.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” I reply casually as if I don’t have a care in the world.

Bart’s phone rings. “Hello.” He frowns as he listens. “Are you okay? Damn it. All right, I’m on my way.” He hangs up the call and turns to Sebastian. “My wife has just had a car accident around the corner.”

“Oh no,” I say.

“It’s nothing serious, although I’m going to duck out and see if she’s okay. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Sorry about this.” Bart turns his attention to me. “April can just start running through the progress we’ve made on the facilities for Theodore.”

“That’s fine, I hope everything is okay?”

“She’s assured me she’s fine. April will take over.”

“I’m sure she will,” Sebastian says, a trace of amusement across his face. He seems happy that we are going to be left alone.

Great.

Bart takes off in a rush, and I sit down nervously. Sebastian drops into his seat and sits back.

I flick through my papers and get out my computer. “What would you like to know?” I ask, faking confidence.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s eyes hold mine. “I’d like to know if you’ve thought about me.”

“What?”

“Have you thought about me, April?”

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Mr. Garcia.”

“Call me Sebastian.”

I don’t know what’s going on here, but I do know that this is going to end badly if I’m alone with him.

When I say badly, I mean with me under his desk, sucking his dick, because that seems to be all I can think about lately.

I stand in a rush. “I think I should go outside and wait for Bart to return. I’ll see you when he gets back.” I turn and walk toward the door.

A hand comes over my shoulder and stops the door from opening. I can feel Sebastian’s breath on the back of my neck. Goosebumps scatter up my spine.

“Turn around, April.”

Oh fuck…I close my eyes. This isn’t good.

“Turn around,” he commands.

I turn back toward him, and he steps forward, forcing my back up against the door. His face is only millimeters from mine. “I think about you all day,” he whispers. “I dream about you all fucking night.”

Our eyes are locked, the air between us is electric.

“What do you want, Sebastian?” I whisper.

“I want you to kiss me.”