Текст книги "The Billionaire Takes a Bride"

Автор книги: Jessica Clare

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

He thought of the bruise he’d got a flash of on her inner thigh and wondered. But then the dinner party started, he put away his phone, and Chelsea appeared from the restroom with her friend, all smiles and bouncy hair and charming personality.

And he forgot all about the bruises for a while and just enjoyed himself.

That night, when he went home, he pulled out his sketch pad and pencils. He immediately began to draw a rounded face, big, shining eyes, and wavy blonde hair. She was so happy and carefree, how could he not draw her? She reminded him of the pinup girls of old.

Friend or not, he suspected that Chelsea Hall was going to be art inspiration for a long time to come.

Chapter Five

“A safety date is genius, baby girl,” Pisa said as they skated through Central Park the next day. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me, too,” Chelsea admitted. “I didn’t freak out once at the entire dinner party. Maybe it was because there were so many people around who I knew from my college days that it didn’t bother me. I even spent a few minutes alone with Sebastian and didn’t lose my cool. It’s like my brain has categorized him as safe.”

“That’s great! You’ve totally got this, Chesty,” Pisa gushed. She sped up, then hopped over a particularly bad crack in the pavement. Chelsea did the same, then skated up to her friend’s side again. Pisa grabbed her by the elbow pad and steered her around an old couple, and then they raced past a few particularly slow people.

Derby practice was twice a week for the league, which consisted of drills and scrimmages and training the fresh meat. On Friday nights, she had Rag Queens team practice. But like most women who lived and breathed derby, there were never enough hours on skates, and she and Pisa had taken to skating through Central Park on a daily basis to get exercise. It was Pisa’s lunch hour, which meant the park was full of people walking their dogs and suits taking their lunchtime strolls in addition to the usual park crew.

Pisa started skating backward and eyed Chelsea. “So, can we talk?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“I got the promotion. Double pay plus incentives.” Pisa wiggled her eyebrows and lifted her forearm for a congratulatory bump.

Chelsea squealed and grabbed Pisa around the waist, knocking them both into the grass. They went tumbling, a tangle of skates, yoga pants, and laughing hugs. Chelsea wiggled against her friend, stoked. “Oh, my god! Congrats! That’s so awesome.”

Pisa giggled and thumped Chelsea on the back. “I know! I’ve been waiting for this opportunity forever!”

“They’d be dummies to pass up a financial analyst as badass as you,” Chelsea said proudly. “So this means . . .”

“Yep,” Pisa said, and the worried look came back to her face. She propped up her elbow in the grass and plucked at a few blades. “Austin. Permanent relocation. I mean, the good thing is that it’s a derby town. The bad thing is . . .”

That she’d be leaving Chelsea. And Chelsea had a hard time with being alone. She squished down the panicky feelings and gave Pisa another squeeze. “Don’t be a tool, Pisa. This is the opportunity you wanted. Of course you’re moving to Austin!”

“You sure?”

Chelsea snorted. “What, you gonna stay here because your roomie can’t handle shit? I’ll get another roommate. Cherry said she was looking for a place.”

“Cherry doesn’t work. How you gonna pay for a two bedroom NoHo walk-up on your soap sales?”

Chelsea waved a hand. “I’ll figure something out. Don’t you worry about me. Seriously. Let’s talk about you and Austin! When do you go?”

“Next week?”

So soon? She swallowed her fear and thumped Pisa’s helmet. “I’m so stoked for you!”

Pisa gave her a tiny smile. “Maybe I’ll try that banked track stuff, too. It’s big in Austin. I’ll play both leagues for a bit or something. I don’t know. You sure you’re cool?”

“Of course. I’d never hold you back.” Chelsea squeezed Pisa’s sports-gloved hand. “You’ve been there for me every step of the way for the last three years. You’re the one who picked me out of the crowd at tryouts and told me to get my bitch-ass into a pair of skates. I adore you and want the best for you. I’ve leaned on you for a while, and it’s time for me to make it on my own.”

Pisa’s eyes glimmered with tears. “I was so afraid of telling you. I know this can’t be easy.”

Chelsea squeezed her in an elbow-padded hug. “I don’t care if it’s easy or not. It’s what you have to do.”

After a bit more hugging, they dusted the grass off of their gear and resumed their breakneck skate around the park. Chelsea kept the beaming smile on her face, but inwardly, she was torn. Pisa was her rock, the person she could count on at all times to be there for her. She couldn’t keep her from such an awesome promotion, not when it would mean so much money and success for her.

But . . . what would it mean for Chelsea? She’d just have to suck it up and cope. Somehow. But New York was going to be a lot less fun without Pisa around.

*   *   *

“Top rope or lead climb today?” Sebastian asked Hunter. He adjusted his climbing harness and double checked it one more time before he glanced over at his buddy.

“Top rope,” Hunter said, then glanced around uneasily. “Gym seem awful busy to you today?”

Sebastian grunted. It did, but he thought he was just paranoid. “Maybe we picked a bad time to get our climb on. You wanna reschedule?”

“Nah,” Hunter said, chalking his hands. “Need to get some aggressions out.”

“Oh?” Sebastian clipped in and then squinted up at the wall. They’d rented the area for the hour, but Hunter was right—their private gym of choice seemed to be rather busy today for no reason at all. Maybe he needed to see about building his own personal rock climbing wall. Seemed kinda silly when there was a perfectly good one here downtown, though. “Work stuff or something else?”

Hunter wasn’t the chattiest partner, so it was sometimes tough to get him to open up. Not today, it seemed. Sebastian was a little surprised when Hunter admitted, “Lost out on an important bid earlier. Too distracted by wedding stuff.”

“Glad it’s you getting married and not me,” Sebastian said, putting his hands on one of the lower pre-bolted sport route handholds. “The last thing I need is more media attention.”

“It’s not the media,” Hunter said in his gravelly voice, approaching the wall. “Gretchen wouldn’t do that to me. It’s . . . well, it’s Gretchen. She’s planning this big costume party for the engagement announcement and she’s all worked up.”

Sebastian’s brows drew together. He wasn’t exactly sure how that was distracting. “And . . .”

“And when she gets worked up, she takes her stress out on me.”

The words sounded like they were growled out of Hunter’s throat, and Sebastian paused in his climb to look over at his partner. Sure enough, Hunter’s face was bright red, and not from exertion. “Ah,” he said, chuckling. “That kind of distraction. You poor, suffering beast. How do you cope?”

“Fuck off,” Hunter said. “I—” He bit the words off and stared into the distance.

Sebastian turned to look . . . and cursed.

Now he knew why the gym was so crowded. A trio of cameras were filming a short distance away, and another man held a long boom mic over the head of a girl with white-blonde bleached hair. She was wearing a hot pink sports bra and matching yoga pants . . . and stilettos. And when she turned, he swore again.

Lisa Pinder-Schloss. His ex from hell. The one who wanted to be as famous as the rest of his family.

She brightened at the sight of him and bounded over, her big implants jiggling as she trotted to the climbing wall. And all Sebastian could do was hang there, a few feet off the ground, stunned as she and her entourage showed up.

“Hi, baby,” she cooed, staggering over to the climbing wall. Her heels sunk into the mats and she wobbled with every step.

“Lisa? What are you doing here?” Sebastian said, releasing the hand holds and sliding back down to the ground. At least she had the sense to approach when he was at the bottom of the wall and not the top.

He looked over at Hunter, and he had his hands in front of his face, squinting. “If those cameras don’t get off of me in two seconds, I’m suing the daylights out of each and every one of you,” the scarred billionaire growled.

Immediately, all three cameras swiveled away and zoomed in on Lisa.

Sebastian dusted his hands, stepping a few feet away to give Hunter his privacy. He knew the man was reclusive and hated his picture taken. Hell, Hunter hated going out in public at all but was trying to do better for his fiancée. Definitely time for Sebastian to look into that private climbing wall. Fuck.

He took Lisa by the elbow and dragged her to the side. “What are you doing here?”

She pouted. “I came to see you.”

Her pout looked ridiculous. She’d clearly gotten a lot of recent work done and not only were her breasts enormous, nipples poking through the thin fabric of her bra, but her lips were bloated, too. They looked like a duck bill, protruding from her face and stretching her once pretty features into a caricature. She’d clearly gone overboard with the plastic surgery. She’d been tanning quite a bit and looked, well, a bit too orange to be natural. Kind of like a pumpkin.

“You came here to see me or you came to film for the show?” he asked bluntly, unhooking his harness.

She twirled a lock of hair—probably extensions. “Can’t it be both?”

“You know I hate the show.” Damn it, he couldn’t unclip himself. He was too pissy and in too much of a hurry.

“I miss you, baby. Can we talk privately?” She put her hand on his belt harness and tried to pull him forward.

“No! Don’t touch me.” He flung himself backward so hard that he slammed onto the mat and lay there for a moment, spread eagle.

Fuck. That was going to make the promo, he just knew it.

She giggled and then bit one of her bloated lips in an attempt to look cute. “We need to talk about you and me.”

“There is no you and me. There hasn’t been for years.”

“I miss you—”

“I don’t miss you, and I don’t want any of this.” He waved an arm at the cameras still filming his every move. “Just because my mother wants me on TV doesn’t mean I want to be there.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you know Mama Precious has cancer?”

Oh, no. He was not getting involved in the damn cancer story line. Not one bit. Ignoring the bait she’d dropped, he clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, Lisa, okay? Just leave me alone.”

Lisa’s hands went to her hips. “I’m not going to give up on you, Sebastian Cabral. You’re going to see that I’m the perfect girlfriend for you. What we had was good.”

What they’d had was brief and annoying. “Go away, Lisa.”

“You just wait. I refuse to take no for an answer.” She tossed her head and stalked away.

Frustrated, he rubbed his forehead. Everyone was staring. He couldn’t come back to this gym again. Hell, he was going to have to convince Hunter that this wasn’t a setup.

What a nightmare. He had to do something to get Lisa off his back. If not, he was going to have to endure months of ambushes like this one. Something had to be done.

*   *   *

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Pisa asked again, checking the half-empty apartment one last time before letting the movers leave.

“Totally cool,” Chelsea assured her. She shouldered Pisa’s bag of skate equipment, since that was something that she wanted with her on the plane. A TV could be replaced, but skates that were properly broken in were priceless. “It’s going to be fun having the place to myself for a while.”

“You’re such a shitty liar,” Pisa told her. She scanned the room one last time and then turned to Chelsea. “You can tell your derby wife, honey. Say the word and I’ll get a later flight or something.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Chelsea handed her the heavy bag. “You need to do this. How long have you been waiting for the chance at a promotion? I’d be the worst friend on earth if I held you back.”

“We both know you’re not doing it on purpose.” Pisa’s narrow face was worried. “You have my new address, right?”

“And your phone number. And the emergency numbers of the other girls on the team. And I can go down to a coffee shop if it gets too quiet. Or I’ll get a cat or something. I promise, it’s cool.”

The unhappy look on Pisa’s face didn’t ease up. “You’ll call me if you start to freak out?”

“Absolutely.” Chelsea grabbed her friend by the shoulders and turned her toward the front door. “You have to go, Pisa. Your plane is leaving soon and the movers are waiting for you to wave them off.”

“I know. I just feel guilty . . .” She looked at Chelsea again.

“Feel guilty that you’re leaving the Rag Queens for some shitty Austin team,” she teased, keeping her voice light.

“Austin’s kickass and you know it.” Pisa flung her arms around Chelsea. “I’m going to miss you so much, Chesty LaRude.”

Hot tears formed in Chelsea’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly. “I’m going to miss you, too, Pisa Hit.” She squeezed her friend again. “We’ll see each other at Nationals, though, won’t we?”

“Absolutely.” Pisa lifted her bent arm and tapped her elbow. “I’m keeping this ready to dig into your chest.”

Chelsea giggled through her tears. “I’ll miss you.”

They hugged three more times before Pisa finally left. Chelsea waved her off. Then, she quietly shut the door to the apartment, locked the bolts, and stared dully at what was left of the furniture. She’d moved her soap-making supplies temporarily into Pisa’s room, set up on a folding table. She’d happily chattered to her buddy that she was closer to the kitchen in Pisa’s room, which would make things easier.

Lies. All lies, because she couldn’t hold her friend back from having a life. Pisa’s empty room nagged at Chelsea’s anxiety, and she closed the door and moved down the hall. As she went through the apartment, she turned the lights on. It was bright as the daylight outside in her bedroom, but it wasn’t enough.

It was too quiet. Too lonely.

She was too alone.

She crawled into bed and pulled the sheets up. Practice was tomorrow night. She could last until then. And she could skate in Central Park tomorrow. Maybe she’d call Morning Whorey or Gilmore Hurls and see if they were interested in skating. Probably not, because she knew they had office jobs.

She was alone. Really really alone.

And when she was alone, the anxiety came back.

So she pulled out her phone and went through her contact list. Gretchen was shit at answering texts. Any of her derby friends would just talk about Pisa and right now she didn’t want to think about the loss of her friend. “Safety Date Sebastian” came up in her list, and on a whim, she texted him.

Chelsea: Hey, Safety Boy, are you going to the costume party this weekend?

Safety Date Sebastian: Kinda have to, don’t I? What with being a groomsman and all.

Chelsea: I see we are full of sarcasm today.

SDS: Sorry. Just not a big fan of parties. Kinda feel roped into this one.

Chelsea: I know how that feels! I’d rather not go at all, but Gretchen would never forgive.

SDS: Sounds like we are going to have a fine evening of clinging to the wall together.

Chelsea: Sounds like. I’m glad you are as antisocial as me.

SDS: We shall be two freakish wallflowers together.

She smiled. It didn’t help the ache of loneliness go away, or the fear of being by herself, but it was nice to know someone else was out there, listening.

Chapter Six

“Is . . . that a black eye or part of your costume?” Sebastian stared as a familiar figure roller-skated her way to his side, waving. The engagement party for Gretchen and Hunter was in full swing. Costumed partygoers lined the stately halls of Buchanan Manor, and everywhere there were banners and balloons proclaiming the upcoming nuptials of the happy couple. Waitstaff carried champagne glasses and hors d’oeuvres through the crowd, and people were all laughing and mingling and having a good time. Well, almost all. When a cheerleader and a sexy Cookie Monster hit on him the moment he walked through the door, he knew this was yet another “hookup” party. What was it about weddings that made everyone else frantic to find a partner? He’d even dressed in a low-key costume to try to avoid attention, and it wasn’t working. Which was why he was so glad to see Chelsea as she skated toward him, winding her way through the crowd as if she were born on roller-skates. It was pretty impressive to see.

And damn, she was sexy tonight, too. She was just a friend, but she was rocking her costume. A sticker-covered pink-and-purple helmet topped her curly pigtails, and her dress was a short and tiny purple skating costume with a pleated skirt that did nothing to cover her panties. She wore striped pink-and-purple stockings up to her thighs and kneepads and elbow pads, and looked every inch the part of a hot roller derby girl.

Well, except for the black eye. That was distressing.

But she grinned as she skated up to him and then turned so she could stand at his side. “Yeah, it’s a legit black eye. I ran into an elbow. Got myself a shiner.”

She sounded so casual about the abuse. It worried him, even though it wasn’t his place to bring it up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m cool.” Chelsea’s gaze swung out over the party. “It is wall-to-wall in here tonight. I thought Hunter wasn’t social?”

“He’s not, but it seems like Gretchen is determined to let the entire world know that she loves the man.”

Chelsea looked over at him and chuckled. “She’s proud of him.”

He fought back the flare of lust at that knowing look she sent him. She was a friend, and she’d made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in a relationship. He wasn’t either—not really. He was still shuddering from Lisa’s ambush the other day. But her dress was slightly open in the front, revealing some enticing cleavage, and her ass was incredible in the spanky panties she wore underneath her teeny skirt. He was a guy. He couldn’t help it if he was aroused at the sight of a sexy woman, even if she’d friend-zoned him. “Nice outfit.”

“Thanks,” she said, gazing out on the crowd. “Borrowed it from a buddy.” She scanned the room and edged closer to him when a few guys gave her hot looks in passing. “I like your costume, too. What are you?”

“Guess.”

Her gaze moved over him, the nerdy, button-up shirt with the pocket protector he wore, the ill-fitting slacks. The slicked down hair and heavy glasses with tape in the middle. He fished a calculator out of his pocket and held it up, then gave her an expectant look. Chelsea’s nose wrinkled. “Someone from that TV show with the guys? Big Bang Theory?”

“Wrong. I’m a mathlete.” He’d deliberately gone for something unattractive and low-key in the hopes of avoiding attention. So far, it’d been a big bust, too. He was still a little too famous for his own good, and the ladies here tonight were on the prowl.

Chelsea looked him up and down, and then began giggling behind one sports glove. “Mathlete? Are you serious?”

“What, do I not look sufficiently intelligent?” He would not be wounded by her laughter, especially not when it was so charmingly adorable. He found himself grinning at her.

“A mathlete with these guns? Please.” She put a hand on his arm and squeezed his muscles. “You’re too built.”

“I am perversely flattered and offended all at once,” he said in a lofty voice, pocketing his calculator once more.

“You should be,” she teased. Her hand still on his arm, she gave the room a worried look. “Man, it’s crowded.”

“Not a big fan of parties?” He was surprised at that. She seemed so effortlessly comfortable in her own skin.

A waiter passed by with glasses of champagne, and she deliberately turned away from him. She wrinkled her nose and looked at Sebastian instead. “It feels more like a meat market than a get-together with friends. I think I saw a Sexy Elmo earlier.”

“I think she showed up with Sexy Cookie Monster and Sexy Chewbacca.”

She leaned in close, and he noticed she smelled of cherries. “They’re stealing all my ideas. Here I’d wanted to be Sexy Chewbacca. Thank goodness I went home and changed, eh?”

He grinned. “The horror of being the same sultry Wookiee as another woman.”

“I know.” She shifted on her skates and then leaned in again, her breast brushing against his arm. “Thank goodness I wore skates. I can make a quick getaway if anyone tries to lay some moves on me.” She grimaced. “Again.”

“Let me guess, accosted as soon as you walked through the door?” He wouldn’t be surprised. Though there were girls in skimpier outfits here tonight, Chelsea looked incredible. He was pretty sure he wasn’t the only man in the room who couldn’t stop staring at her ass, black eye or no black eye.

She nodded and sighed. “It’s like you can’t wear what you want without expecting some jackass to leer at you.”

Damn. He was doing his best not to leer himself. But if she didn’t want her incredibly fine ass stared at, he’d defend her. “Want me to put an arm around you so we can be each other’s Safety Date?”

She slid her hand around his waist and looped her fingers into one of his belt loops. “That sounds incredible. Thank you, Sebastian.”

“Hey, I benefit, too. The last thing I want is Sexy Cookie Monster showing up after three champagnes and wanting me to show her my Big Bird.”

Chelsea giggled again.

He slid an arm around her waist and she sighed with contentment. “I really appreciate this, Sebastian.” She leaned her helmeted head on his arm and then looked up at him, the picture of an adoring girlfriend. It was a good fake-out. She was actually really damn good at looking attentive. “Should I call you Bastian?”

“Only if you want me to call you El-sea.”

“Sebby?”

“Chelly?”

Her snickers turned into full blown snorts of laughter. “Do you not have a nickname?”

“My mother calls me Nugget. Now you see why I hate nicknames.”

“Aw, Nugget’s adorable. Was it because you were a fat baby?”

He gave her a baleful look, for a moment forgetting all about the party that surged around them. “Are you kidding? She started calling me that four years ago.”

Chelsea’s horrified laughter was smothered behind a gloved hand. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. My mother is very big about making her show entertaining.”

“I’ve never watched it.”

“There’s very little reality in her reality show. Unless you’re heavy into designers and rich women getting into fights at the nail salon, you’re not missing much.”

“It sounds awful.”

“That’s because it is awful.”

“Is that why you’re hiding in the corner with me?”

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you just quote Jane Austen at me?”

“I did.”

“And you’re single how?” she teased. “I swear ovaries just melted everywhere.”

“One of my sisters is a huge fan.” He grimaced. “Was. Was a huge fan. They made her change it to something trendier for the show. Now she’s obsessed with sparkly vampires because they were paid to promote it.”

“I thought . . .”

“That we’re rich? We are. My sisters have trust funds, and my brother and I are inheriting more than any human should. They don’t need money. They just like the attention.”

“Oh.” She tried not to look revolted at the thought and failed. “And let me guess, everyone that you date wants to be on the show?”

Someone actually got it. For the second time since meeting Chelsea, he was shocked at how astute she was. “Bingo. They don’t want me, they want a man-sized ticket to notoriety.”

Chelsea gave a delicate shudder. “You poor thing. Don’t worry. I only want you for appearances.” She patted his arm.

“Which is why we’re perfect together.” He nodded at a distant table full of food. “Enough about my mother. You want something to eat?”

“God, I would love that.” She gave him a grateful look and released his arm. “I haven’t eaten anything all day and I feel like I could chew the arm off of the next guy that comes up and asks me if I’m a skating stripper.”

He laughed. “You want to come with or continue to hide back here?”

Her expression brightened. “Can I hide? Will you hate me if I do?”

She looked so pleased at the thought of remaining in the corner that he couldn’t deny her. “I won’t hate you. I can get you a plate. What do you want?”

“One of everything.” She patted her flat stomach. “No girly appetite here.”

Sebastian grinned. “All right, I’ll be back. And . . . champagne?”

Her expression grew a little distant. “No alcohol, actually. Just water for me.”

Interesting. “Water it is. Be right back.”

Sebastian made his way through the crowd, and as he did, he found himself constantly greeting friends or avoiding couples who were already in the process of hooking up. Chelsea was right—it was a big meat market here tonight. Even the bridesmaids and groomsmen were hooking up. He watched Magnus disappear into the gardens after a pirate girl, and Greer was currently plastered to Asher.

Unless, of course, they were also safety dates for each other. He glanced back at Greer and Asher and saw Asher stick his tongue down the tiny woman’s throat, his hands cupping her ass through her spangly costume.

Nope. That was definitely not a safety date. Never mind, then. He was relieved he and Chelsea were on the same wavelength, at least. He grabbed a tiny plate and started piling it high with food. There were all kinds of snacks, from sweet to savory, and three kinds of shrimp. He wondered if she had any allergies, and glanced back where he’d left her.

Two guys had approached her—not surprising given her bright yet sexy costume. But instead of the polite disinterest he expected to see on her face, she looked downright panicked. Her back was pressed against the wall and the look in her eyes was not one of interest but of helpless fear. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she looked ready to hit someone.

And his protective instincts surged. Ignoring the person who tried to get his attention, he tucked the plate against his chest and muscled his way back through the crowd toward her. One of the guys leaned in, and just as he did, Sebastian swooped between the men and Chelsea. “Here you go, Snookums.” He leaned in and pressed the plate of food into her hands, and to stake his “claim” he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Then he looped a hand around her waist and gave the men a challenging look. “New friends?”

“We were just leaving,” the one dressed as a baseball player said. He nudged his buddy and they wandered away.

Chelsea had a blank look on her face, and she shoved one of the mini cupcakes into her mouth. “Thanks.”

“You okay?” Sebastian studied her, and she seemed . . . strange. Like she’d shut down all the fun she was having earlier.

“I’m good.” She chewed and gave him a close-lipped smile. “Appreciate the save.”

Again, he wondered at her black eye and the brief flicker of terror he’d seen on her face when the guys cornered her. “You sure?”

“Yep. Thanks for the food. You want some?” She offered the plate to him but couldn’t look him in the eye.

Now his protective instinct was in an all-out war with common sense. It was more than just a guy looking out for a girl. He liked Chelsea as a person, and she seemed to be struggling. And a weird sort of idea blossomed in his mind.

He dismissed it.

Looked at her again as she nibbled on a cookie.

The idea wouldn’t go away.

Sebastian kept considering it. Chelsea was perfect for him in a lot of ways—the biggest being that she wasn’t interested in a relationship. He needed a relationship to get Lisa off his back . . . but didn’t want one.

He studied Chelsea’s black eye and the way she nervously eyed the crowd. Gone was her ease, and she moved a little closer to him when he put his arm back around her waist.

She trusted him. He wondered if she’d be up for the nutty plan that kept running through his mind. Won’t know unless you ask, his mind whispered. So he leaned in again when the music started for a new song, and again, the scent of cherries touched his nose. Why did she have to smell so damn good? It was distracting. “You want to escape to a balcony or something?”

The look she gave him was utter relief. “That sounds awesome.” She handed her plate off to a server, licked her thumb, and smiled at him.

And he was going to have mental images of her licking her thumb all night, wasn’t he? Then he thought of the way she’d stiffened in utter fear and chided himself for being a jerk. It was clear she was afraid of some guy, and Sebastian wanted to fix it.

Sure, fixing it might be a little self-serving, but he figured they could kill two birds with one stone.

Keeping his arm firmly around Chelsea’s waist, he steered her toward the edge of the room. The balcony was full of people, and someone appeared to be having a fight out there. Bad place to talk about what he intended. So he kept steering her, heading down a hall. It was cordoned off with a velvet rope so no party guests would enter, but he suspected Hunter wouldn’t mind. He pulled it aside and gestured for Chelsea to enter the room.

She skated in, and he winced mentally at the sound of her roller skates on the hardwood flooring. Well, if they fucked it up, he supposed he could just pay for it. He didn’t care. Right now he just wanted privacy with her and a place where they could talk.

The room they’d entered was a sitting room of some kind, full of dainty chaises and old paintings on the walls. Big windows were covered with heavy drapes and a cabinet of old antiques covered a back wall. It looked like a very stiff, stuffy parlor that didn’t get much use. There was a glass case in the center of the room with an old, open book under it. Probably something expensive and rare. He didn’t care. Sebastian shut the door behind him. “Sit anywhere.”

“No balcony?” she asked, but thumped down on an overstuffed lounger with a curling low back.

“It was busy,” he said. “And I wanted to talk to you in private.”

She stiffened, the defensive look returning to her face. “That’s never a good sign.”

He shrugged, keeping his pose casual, and sat across the room from her. “It’s nothing bad. I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to get married.”