Hurtful things, like the things he said to me.
My stomach twists as I’m taken back to that fateful night.
I hate that it still gets to me.
I exhale heavily and shake my shoulders, trying to forget that I just saw him.
Let it go, April. Stewing over him is not achieving anything.
It’s fine. Totally fucking fine. What do I care anyway? He’s nothing to me.
I glance back toward the door to see Sebastian stepping out of the elevator, and once again, I see red.
Bastard.
I stand at the bar, and sip my horrible wine. If you could even call it wine? Who picks the selection for these function things? Obviously, someone who has absolutely no taste.
The auction has been on. Duke paid ten thousand pounds for a signed surfboard of Kelly Slater’s. What the heck he’s going to do with that? Oh well, it is for a good cause, I suppose.
We have had a few drinks and chatted to a few people, and now Duke is signing autographs over at a table with six other sportsmen.
He’s scheduled on for an hour, and then we can go.
Sebastian is on the other side of the conservatorium with two other men—one blonde and handsome, the other one dark and broody looking.
They look around Sebastian’s age and are undeniably gorgeous.
I’m having a hard time not watching him, and I’m beating myself up for not saying something. Although, what I would have said? I have no idea.
Stop it!
I take out my phone and text Penelope.
Who would have ever thought my archenemy from the Rave Cave would now be one of my closest friends?
You’re not going to believe who’s here…
A reply comes back.
Who?
I glance over at Duke as I type.
Sebastian Garcia.
We ran into each other in the elevator.
Apparently, he’s the Deputy Prime Minister now.
A response comes quickly.
Oh, Shit, that's right, I saw it.
He was elected this week,
I keep forgetting to mention it.
I hope you spat in his slimy face.
I giggle.
I wish.
“Is this stool taken?” a man asks,
“No, take it.” I smile.
“Thanks.” He lifts the stool over to his table, and a reply bounces back from Penelope.
Fuck him. He’s just an asshole.
Be grateful you don’t have to see him ever again.
I type my reply.
This is true. Speak tomoz.
xoxo
I put my phone into my bag and glance over the room to see Sebastian staring at me from across the room.
His face is devoid of emotion, and then, in slow motion he raises his wine glass in the air to me, as if toasting the occasion.
Our eyes are locked.
I feel adrenaline surge through my system. Are you fucking kidding me?
You have the nerve to address me?
His blonde friend looks over and then says something to him, and Sebastian chuckles into his wine glass.
What’s so funny, asshole?
My heart pounds as the hurt and shame that he caused comes flooding back.
His other friend says something to him, and then all three men laugh out loud.
I sip my drink. It feels like the sky has turned red.
I’m never going to see him again. I’m never going to get the chance to tell him what I think of him.
I drain my glass as my mission becomes crystal clear, and I slam it onto the table.
Before I know it, I’m marching over to his table. I catch Sebastian off guard, and he only sees me when I am standing beside him.
“A word,” I say.
He raises his eyebrow sarcastically. “I’d rather not.”
I glare at him. “Unless you want to be wearing your fucking drink, get outside. Now.” I growl, losing all control.
“Um… wow.” His blonde friend raises his brow, too. “Do we know you?”
I turn my attention to him, and he withers under my glare.
The dark friend smirks and holds out his hand to shake mine. “Julian Masters.”
“I don’t care,” I bark.
The blonde friend chuckles. “Fuck me, who is this?”
“Outside!” I snap before marching into the foyer.
I stomp through the conservatory like I’m The Hulk. I don’t remember ever being this angry. I can taste it in my mouth like it’s poison.
I make it to the foyer, and I turn to see Sebastian walking behind me. He seems pissed off, too.
He puts his hands into his trouser pockets. “What do you want?” He snaps.
I see a cloakroom. “Over here.” I walk over to it and open the door to find it’s empty. “In private.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“Well, I’ve got plenty to say to you.” I whisper angrily.
He marches past me into the cloakroom. I follow him in and slam the door shut.
“I don’t have time for your shit,” he barks.
“You’ll make time, you entitled fucking asshole.” I scream. “How dare you?”
His eyes bulge and he points to his own chest as if outraged. “How dare I?”
“That’s what I said.”
He opens his mouth to argue.
“Shut up and fucking listen.” I push him hard in the chest.
He narrows his eyes and tilts his chin to the ceiling in defiance. “Touch me again and see what fucking happens to you.” He growls.
“I will do whatever I want, and you are going to listen to every fucking word I say. First of all,” I say. "I never touched your son. Not once." I cry. “If he had a crush on me, it was completely one-sided. I had no idea about it until we were on your front porch.”
He opens his mouth to argue.
“Shut the fuck up, Sebastian, or so help me God!” My chest rises and falls as I fight to stay in control. “Second of all… you called me a lying whore.”
His eyes hold mine. “That’s right.”
I slap him hard across the face, the sound echoes throughout the small space. His eyes flicker with fury, and he pushes me back up against the wall to get me away from him.
“I’m nobody’s whore, least of all yours,” I whisper.
He holds me tight, his face so close to mine. “You sure about that?”
I push him off me, and he stumbles back.
“You pay for sex, you pathetic piece of shit, and you have the audacity to judge me?”
“Go to hell.” He clenches his fists by his sides.
“I won’t.” I smile sarcastically. “You see, Mr. Garcia, my conscience is clear. I’m a good person with a good heart, and I don’t have double standards. And you.” I whisper. “You are just another sleazy… entitled… politician.”
His nostrils flare, and I know I hit a nerve.
“Stay the fuck away from me.” I sneer, with one last look, I march out into the foyer and straight into the ladies’ room. Once in the cubicle, I close the door as tears fill my eyes.
I can feel my heartbeat pounding everywhere. I drop my head into my hands, overcome with anger.