Chapter 23: Mr Garcia: Chapter 23

The drone buzzing in the background wakes me from my slumber. I wince, roll over and turn off my alarm.

I lie for a moment to get my bearings, and I look around. I’m alone in bed. Where is she?

Thoughts of last night run through my mind. I close my eyes in disgust.

Fuck.

A moment of weakness has ruined everything. I get up and walk to the bedroom door and listen. I can hear CNN in the distance, and April talking to Bentley.

She’s downstairs. Relief fills me, and I frown as the realization hits me.

Stop it.

I shower, get dressed for work, and I make my way downstairs. I find April in the kitchen, drinking coffee as she cuts up fruit.

She looks up and smiles. “Hey, you.”

“Hello.” I stand on the spot.

She raises an eyebrow, and I raise one back.

“Are you going to kiss me good morning?” she asks.

And so it begins.

I exhale and walk over to her. She takes me in her arms, rises on her toes, and she kisses me softly. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, and I pull out of the kiss. “I have to go. I’m running late.”

“It’s only 6:45 a.m.”

“Early meeting.”

She smiles up at me.

“What?”

“Are you in the middle of a freak out right now?”

I swallow the lump in my throat, it’s a strong possibility. “No.”

“Are you regretting anything?”

I hesitate for a moment, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Nope.”

She smiles up at me as she runs her hand over my suit-covered cock. “Do you still love me?” she asks.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, April. Enough of the lovey dovey crap. You caught me in a moment of weakness. We don’t have to go on and on about it.”

She giggles and rearranges the lapels of my suit jacket. “Okay.”

“What are you doing today?”

“Well, I can’t go into the office with this black eye. I’ll go home and work from there.”

My eyes hold hers. “Stay here.”

“Why?”

“I’ve arranged security for you.”

She frowns. “Why?”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Sebastian, it’s okay. I’m safe.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Do you think she’s going to try and hurt me?”

I rearrange the cufflinks on my sleeves, trying to act uninterested. “I don’t know what that woman is capable of but I’m not taking any risks.”

She smiles proudly, as if knowing something I don’t.

I turn toward my coffee machine and flick it on. “So, you will stay here?”

“Yes, dear.”

“And you won’t leave without security?”

“No, dear.”

“Stop patronizing me, April. I don’t like it.” I fill my cup, and her arms come around me from behind. She kisses my back.

“Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?” she asks.

“No.”

She lets out a deep sigh and steps back from me.

Fuck, I’m being a prick.

It’s not her fault that I’m fucked up. I turn and take her into my arms. “I can bring home dinner, if you like.”

She acts uninterested when I kiss her cheek.

“Anything you want. Text me when you know what you feel like.” I kiss her to try and sweeten the deal.

“What we had last night was pretty good,” she says casually.

“All right.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Choked out chicken it is.”

She laughs out loud, and it brings with it a warm fuzzy feeling. She has the most beautiful laugh I’ve ever heard.

She kisses me and pushes the hair back from my forehead. “I’m feeling like the luckiest girl alive today, Seb.”

My heart swells before I quickly recover. “Yeah, well, you do have a brain injury.” I hug her. “I have to go.”

“Okay.”

I grab my keys and briefcase, and I take one last look at the woman in my kitchen. Wearing my dressing gown, with her messed up hair and black eye, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

It’s me who’s feeling lucky.

“Next question,” I snap and point to another reporter. Fuck, I hate this part of the job.

“Can you release any further details on Theodore’s condition?”

“Not at this stage,” I reply. “Next question.”

“Is he having a mental breakdown?” someone yells.

No, but I might if they keep this up.

“Theodore is suffering from exhaustion. There is no need for concern, he just needs to rest,” I lie. “He will be back at work before you know it.”

Fuck it, this can’t go on. We need to fess up that he’s a loose cannon with a drug problem and admit that he’s missing. Where the hell could he be? We have so many people out searching, and with every day that passes, my fear for his welfare escalates.

At first, I thought he’d just gone on a bender with a wild woman. Now, I’m not so sure. His phone has been switched off for weeks. He hasn’t touched his credit cards. Although, I know that he does have others in different names so that he could escape the press when he wanted to disappear. I guess his plan has worked a little too well this time.

I wish I paid more attention to those fake names when I saw them way back then. Never in a million years did I think this would ever eventuate.

“Are you going to supersede the Prime Minister?” someone calls.

“No.” I look around. “Next question.”

The warm afternoon sun is beaming down on me in Sebastian’s backyard, and I smile up at the sky. The rare London sunshine is a delight.

Bentley is stretched out beside me. I think I’ve found my own little piece of paradise.

I love this house.

I can see why Seb is so attached to it. My mind goes back to Helena and the fact that she’s been in here. We are still trying to work out how she got a key. Apparently, a few weeks ago, she turned up at Sebastian’s sister’s house to ‘see’ Bentley when she had him. Putting the pieces together now, Seb and his sister think that she was there to steal the key to Seb’s house, because she turned up again a few hours later saying that she left her scarf there. That’s when he thinks she went and got a key cut and was sneaking it back in.

Bitch.

I wonder what she was looking for.

I walk back into the house and wash my coffee cup up with my mind ticking. What does he have that she wants so badly? I walk down to Sebastian’s office and pull out the filing cabinet drawer that she had opened. She was searching somewhere at the back. I go to the area I think she was looking, and I read the dividers.

Bank Statements

I take them out and lay them across the desk to look all through the dates. There’s nothing missing. All the statements are here. I go to the next divider and go through them. Nothing missing.

Hmm.

I look again and again, and I get to a drawer right at the back. I lay them all out and frown. The statement goes from March, April, May, and then it jumps to July.

There’s a statement missing here.

I turn it over and read the back, and then I read the front.

It’s a credit card statement from six, nearly seven years ago. I slip into the seat and roll my fingers on the desk as I think. What would she want his credit card number for?

What does she want?

I text Sebastian.

Cancel your credit card ending in 507. Helena has the number.

A reply instantly comes back.

Already done X

Good.

I narrow my eyes as contempt fills my every cell. If you want to hurt him, bitch, you’ll have to get through me.

It’s just gone 7:00 p.m. when the garage door goes up.

I called Seb earlier. I wanted to cook dinner for the two of us. Takeaway choked out chicken didn’t sound appealing. I have a baked dinner in the oven, and I’ve had a productive day. I vacuumed the house, did some washing, took a nap, and I made a little surprise for Sebastian, which could go either way, but it had to be done. I guess I’ll soon find out by his reaction. I hope I haven’t overstepped the mark.

I know I have, but I needed to do this for me.

I stir the gravy and take the large baking dish out of the oven. The heavenly aroma of roast meat and vegetables fills the house. I’m wearing my new favorite outfit: Sebastian’s dressing gown. My blonde hair is in a messy bun, and I have no fucks to give about my appearance. This man makes me feel comfortable in my own skin. He likes me best like this.

I like me best like this.

He appears and leans against the doorframe, watching me. His big brown eyes find mine across the room, and he gives me the best come fuck me look I’ve ever seen. Wearing a navy suit and a crisp white shirt, he is the epitome of dreamy. My heart skips a beat.

“Hi,” he purrs.

“Hello, Mr. Garcia,” I smirk.

He pushes off the wall, and in one swift movement, he has me in his arms.

He gently pats my blue eye socket. “Does it still hurt?”

“No. It’s getting better.”

“How was my girl’s day?” He kisses me with suction and dominance.

Just delicious.

“Better now.”

He unfastens the tie of my dressing gown to reveal my naked body. His eyes drop to my toes, and he licks his lips.

“Mine, too.”

He stands back and cups my breast, his thumb dusting back and forth over my erect nipple. His hands slide down around to my behind, and he kisses me as he pulls my body against his hard cock.

Oh, this man.

“Dinner.” I smile against his lips.

“Is right here.” His lips drop to my neck, and his teeth graze my skin. Goosebumps scatter up my spine.

I tip my head back to allow him greater access. No matter how hard I try, I can’t resist him. “Seb.” I smile goofily up at the ceiling. “I’ve made you dinner. In fact, I’ve made you a lot of things today.”

He pulls back to look at me. “Such as?”

“A surprise. Now sit down while I serve.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and takes a seat at the bench. I pour us both a glass of wine and pass his to him. He takes a sip, his eyes lingering on my face.

“What?” I smirk.

“I like coming home to this.”

“To what?”

“You, half naked in my kitchen.”

I giggle and point to him with the tongs in my hand. “That’s because you’re a sex maniac.”

He taps his lap. “Come.”

I go to him and put my arms around his neck. He slides his hands in under my robe and holds me tightly. We stay here for a while, and it’s nice. There’s a closeness between us, and it’s not hurried or passionate. It’s comfortable.

Homely.

Something I’ve been searching for, for a very long time.

“What’s this surprise you made me?” he asks.

Oh crap.

“Umm… well…” I really don’t know how this is going to go down. Knowing Sebastian, it could very well be the drop of an atomic bomb. “I was thinking about everything today, and how…”

He listens.

“I know that it’s not… I mean, I don’t want you to ever go through that again.” I stumble over my words trying to make this come out in the right context.

“April,” he says in his deep, commanding voice.

“I made you something. Of course, you will need to get Bart or someone you trust to check it,” I babble on.

Nerves dance in my stomach.

“April…” He warns impatiently.

I push off his lap. “I’ll just go get it.” I walk up the hall and into his office to retrieve the ten-page document in his printer. I walk back out and hand it over.

He frowns as he looks down at it in his hands.

“It’s a prenup agreement,” I announce.

His eyes rise to mine, and he raises a pissed off eyebrow.

Oh crap, he thinks it’s about me. “I mean, it’s not for me or anything. It’s for you to have for the future. Like, if you ever meet the right person. I don’t want you to get ripped off ever again, Seb.”

Unimpressed, he throws it onto the table and stands. He goes to the cupboard, takes out a glass and fills it with scotch. He takes a sip as his angry eyes hold mine.

“Are you angry?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m fucking angry,” he growls. “If you want to leave, just do it.” He drains his glass.

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.

“I cannot believe you would have the fucking audacity to draft a pre-marital agreement for my future wife to sign,” he says.

“Sebastian…”

“Don’t.” He fills his glass again.

“This is for your own protection. I won’t let another woman rip you off.”

“I don’t want another fucking woman!” he yells.

Oh crap, he thinks I’m leaving.

“Then, I’ll sign it,” I stammer. I grab the pen from the shopping list on the fridge. “Here, I’ll sign it right now.”

Fuck, this is going bad.

Real bad.

I flick through the pages to the back and quickly sign my name on the dotted line. I’m half expecting him to throw me out onto the street. “There, see?” I smile. “It’s done.”

He glares at me.

“Sebastian, I don’t want your money; not one penny. But if I’m going to stay here in your house and be with you, I need to have this for my own sanity. I want us to go into this relationship unencumbered.”

He storms past me, heading toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?” I call after him.

“To take a shower. Do you want to do up a premature legal agreement for that?” he yells.

I roll my eyes. Smartass.

He marches up the stairs, and I slump onto my stool. I thought I was doing a good deed—that he would be happy.

Premature legal agreement.

I exhale heavily. I guess not.

I peer into the oven and glance at the clock. Sebastian has been upstairs for half an hour. Is he even coming back down?

Too soon.

It was too soon, you idiot.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I honestly thought he would be happy that I took that upon myself to do that.

I hear the stairs creak, and I stir the gravy to act busy. He walks in and takes a seat back at the kitchen counter.

“Are you ready for dinner now?” I ask with my back to him.

“Yes, please,” he replies curtly.

Big baby.

I dish out our food and place it in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile through gritted teeth.

I sit down, and we eat in silence while I repeat the mantra, hold your tongue, hold your tongue.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “I’ll have my own lawyer draft an agreement.”

“That’s fine,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.

We eat in silence again.

“And I don’t like being pushed into anything,” he states.

“Okay.”

“You will not be moving in here until we discuss it.”

I roll my eyes. He’s pissing me off now. “That’s fine, Sebastian. I don’t want to move in here, anyway.”

His eyes rise to meet mine.

“What?” I scoff. “It’s okay for you to say it but if I agree, I’m in the shit.”

He raises an eyebrow and goes back to his dinner.

“I was only trying to protect you,” I say.

“I don’t need your protection,” he snaps.

“Really?” I scoff, “From where I’m standing, you kind of do. You’re a very wealthy man, Sebastian. Don’t be a fool.”

He gives a subtle shake of his head. “You’re fucking infuriating, April.”

“And you’re a big baby.” I stand and pick up my plate.

“Where are you going?”

“To eat my dinner in front of the television.” I walk out into the living room and sit down on the couch. I begin to eat my dinner on my lap. “And I might write up a contract for this, too!” I call out.

If he wants to be a dick, I can be a bigger one.

“Write up a contract that you have to suck my cock every day!” he calls from the kitchen.

“If you check the fine print of the already-written contract, you will see that it is me who gets head on the daily,’ I call back. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Could have fooled me,” I hear him mutter.

I smile to myself, and I know that he will be smiling, too.

“And you’re washing the dishes,” I call.

“I can’t hear you.”

I smile, knowing our fight is over.

I think that maybe I won.

I lie back in the deep, hot water as the steam rises. I think this is the deepest, most luxurious bathtub I’ve ever seen. Sebastian has been fussing around downstairs. He washed up and fed Bentley. God knows what he’s doing now.

It’s the strangest thing. We have these disagreements, but never once do I consider going home, which is weird. Usually, that’s my first response.

He walks into the bathroom and takes off his sweater.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in. What does it look like?”

I smile and scooch over. He slides his track pants down his legs, and I’m gifted with a full frontal from my Adonis.

His skin has a beautiful honey hue. His chest is broad with a scattering of dark hair. His stomach is rippled with muscles. My eyes drop lower to the well-kept, black pubic hair and his large family jewels. No matter how many times I see him naked, I’m always taken aback by his beauty.

He climbs in the opposite end and rearranges us so that I am lying between his legs. He takes the soap and begins to wash my legs. I stay silent as I wait for him to say something. Eventually, he does.

“I have a wedding in the Maldives this weekend.”

Oh no. A weekend without him. “Okay.”

“I leave on Thursday and get back next Tuesday.”

I nod, damn it. He’s going away for work tomorrow for two nights, so that means I won’t see him for a week.

“I’d like you to come and meet my friends.”

“To the wedding?”

“Yes.”

I smile goofily.

He remains straight-faced as he soaps up my feet. “I’m going away for work tomorrow, remember? I won’t see you for an entire week otherwise.”

“Oh, I had forgotten about that,” I lie as I act casual. “I’ll have to see if I can get off work.”

Bang work. If they don’t give me time off, I’ll leave. Not really, but still.

“I have a lot of time in lieu owed to me, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

He nods as his eyes search mine, and I know that he has a million things that he wants to say that will never leave his lips.

“I’m sorry about the contract, but you need to know that I’ll protect you, even if you don’t want me to.” I slide up over his body so that I am lying on top of him.

“I hate that you think this is about money. I don’t care about the money.”

I melt, and kiss his big, beautiful lips, running my hand through his thick, dark hair. “This is about freedom, Seb,” I say softly.

He frowns, not understanding.

“I need to know that we are on the same page. You need to remember that I lost everything to an ex-husband, too. That contract protects both of us.”

He blinks. “You think I would take your money?”

“No, not that I have a lot, anyway.” I pause as I try to get the wording right in my head. “But if there ever came a day when we decided to go further…”

“Define further.”

“Elope or something crazy. This way, the legalities are already taken care of.”

“Elope?” He frowns.

“Well, I’m never having a white wedding again. What a crock of shit that was.”

He smiles softly.

“My next wedding will be just me and my husband. It will be for us and us alone. No witnesses, no bullshit, no lies, and no fear of losing everything again.”

He kisses me as his arms slide up over my back, and I know that he likes that answer.

“I just need you to know that I’m not here for what you have, Seb. I’m here for what you are.”

He pushes the hair back from my face as we stare at each other. “I love you, April Bennet,” he whispers.

I smile. “I know.”

His lips take mine, and I’m lost.

Sebastian Garcia is special, and he’s all mine.

I’m sitting at the table with two of my colleagues. It’s been a full-on day with press conference after press conference.

We are at a dinner function filled with five hundred people, but all I want to do is go back to my room to call April. I’m over this political shit for the day. I hate staying away from home. I’ve had enough.

Bart appears through the crowd and pulls out a seat at our table. “Seb.”

“Hello.”

“I had a look over that contract you gave me this morning.”

“And?”

“It’s watertight. She did a good job. I say sign away.”

I knew she would have done it right. “Thank you.”

A waiter arrives at the table with a tray of drinks. He places them down one by one. “Here you are.”

“Thanks.” I drain my glass and pick up my new one as I glance at my watch. Another hour and I’m out of here.

Pound, pound, pound, goes my head.

Searing pain ricochets through my skull.

Fuck.

I drag my eyes open to see the room spinning, and quickly I clench them shut again.

Oh…

My stomach rolls, and I sit up in a rush. Perspiration wets my skin.

What the hell, I feel sick. I stumble to the bathroom and throw up violently. My body is shaking, as though dealing with some kind of fever.

Fuck.

I get into the shower and under the hot water. I lean up against the tiles. I have zero energy. Why am I so hungover?

What did I drink last night? I frown, trying to remember.

Huh?

My mind is blank. The last thing I remember was sitting at the table in the bar.

But…

I frown as I try to clear my brain fog. How did I get back to the hotel?

I get out of the shower and dry myself. I wrap my towel around my waist and walk back into the room to look around for my things.

My phone vibrates on my side table.

April

I pick it up.

“Hi.”

“How’s my man this morning?”

“Good morning, Miss Bennet. Where are you?” I ask.

“In bed.”

I smile as I walk into the wardrobe to retrieve my suit. “I wish I was there. My bed was lonely without you.”

“Mine, too,” she purrs sexily. “What happened to you last night? I thought you were calling me when you got back to the hotel.”

Huh?

“Wait…” I frown. “Did I speak to you last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the weirdest thing, I can’t recall anything.” I take the coat hanger with my suit on it and lay it out on the bed.”

“You called me three times. How much did you drink?” she asks.

Three times! What?

I search my mind for some kind of memory. “I don’t remember speaking to you at all.”

“What?” she asks.

“Did I sound drunk?”

“No, but you were very lovey dovey.”

“Define lovey dovey.”

“Telling me how much you missed me and stuff. You were as cute as. It made me miss you more.”

I screw up my face. Cute as is not my style.

I stay silent of a moment as I try to reconcile last night. No… nothing. I change the subject. “What are you doing today?”

“I have to go into the office to pick up some files. I’m going to work from home for the rest of the week. This eye of mine looks horrendous.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Where’s my wallet? It must be in my suit trousers from last night. I look around the room and see my suit crumpled on the chair. Fuck, I must have been drunk. I always hang my suit up when I take it off.

“What’s on today for you?” she asks.

“Not much. Same shit, different day.” I walk around the room with my phone to my ear. “We have to find Theodore as a matter of urgency. Apparently, there’s been a possible sighting in some country town. Who knows if it’s a genuine lead.” I pick up my pants from the floor and feel around the pockets for my wallet. It’s not there.

“I can’t wait for the weekend. What do you think the dress code will be for the wedding?” she asks.

Where’s my fucking wallet?

“I don’t know. It’ll be hot, so something cool, I imagine.” I continue to look around. “Your birthday suit works for me.”

She chuckles, and I smile. I pick up my suit coat and feel around. I locate my wallet in the inside coat pocket. I pick up my white shirt from the floor, and my stomach drops as I stare at it.

Red lipstick is smeared across the collar.

What the fuck is that?

April chats away as the room begins to spin. I look around in a panic.

What happened here last night?

My eyes go to the coffee table, and I see a silver wine chiller with an empty bottle of champagne sitting in it. There are two glasses beside it—one still half-filled with a champagne. Two glasses…

My stomach drops.

“Seb?” April asks, and by the tone of her voice, I can tell she’s asked me a question.

“Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

I drag my hand through my hair as I walk over to the bed in a panic. With my phone to my ear, I angrily toss back the blankets to inspect the sheets.

“I just said that I can’t wait to see you,” April whispers huskily.

I close my eyes. “Me, too. Listen, babe, I have to go. I’m running late.”

“Okay, have a nice day.”

My heart beats hard and fast. This can’t be happening.

“Love you.”

I screw up my face. Don’t.

“You, too.”

I hang up in a rush and pick up the pillow to smell it. The strong scent of perfume cements the evidence, and I throw the pillow against the wall in disgust.

What the fuck did I do?