Page 13 of Hate To Be Mine

Annika was going over some of the details about accessories. Bernadette emerged in a blue cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a very short hemline. Fuck me.

“Sebastian.” Annika put a hand on my arm. “Everything is handled. Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried. I’m being thorough. There’s a difference.”

Thoroughly distracted.

“Mm-hmm.” She patted my arm and went to help Bernadette with a zipper or button or something on the next outfit.

I tried to focus on my mental checklist. Flights confirmed. Accommodations booked. Equipment manifests reviewed. Permits filed. Everything was coming together. This was going to work. I was going to prove to everyone that I could handle this level of responsibility.

But my eyes kept drifting back to Bernadette as she argued with Annika with her hands on her hips. Bernadette didn’t seem to like the blue cocktail dress as much as I did.

Stop it, I told myself. Stop thinking with your dick. That’s exactly what your brothers expect you to do. Focus on the work.

But there was nothing wrong with some harmless flirting, right? Just to smooth things over and get her on my good side. I could turn on the charm when I needed to. It was a professional skill, really. Relationship management.

Bernadette had changed back into her original pantsuit and was gathering her things while Annika made notes about alterations. I sidled over, putting on my best smile, the one that had landed me on magazine covers and in VIP sections of clubs across the globe. I was once told I could tame rabid animals with my smile.

I didn’t think Bernadette was rabid, but she was definitely vicious.

I sauntered over, employing the swagger I knew the ladies loved. “That was quite the fashion show. You clean up nicely, Bernadette.”

She didn’t even blink. “Thank you.”

“I was thinking, since you’re going to be on the island with us, maybe we should get to know each other better. Build some rapport before we’re stuck together for two weeks.”

“We’re not stuck together. I’ll be doing my job, and you’ll be doing yours.”

“Right, but we could grab lunch sometime. Today, even. There’s this great place in⁠—”

“I have a meeting,” she said, not even pretending to check her schedule. “Goodbye, Mr. Blackwell.”

She thanked Annika, who promised to have everything delivered to her apartment, and then she was gone, walking out of the workshop with her shoulders back and her head high, every inch the no-nonsense professional.

I stared after her until Annika appeared at my elbow, grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“Pretty girl, huh?” she said.

“I know lots of pretty girls.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “And most of them don’t want to rip my balls off like that one.”

“So you’re not even a little interested?”

“The only thing I’m interested in is making sure this project goes off without any problems.” I turned to face her, trying to project confidence I didn’t entirely feel. “Annika, this is my chance to prove myself. To show Adrian and Briggs and everyone else that I’m more than just a pretty face. I’m going to make the most of it. If I can be on good terms with that ball-buster, it would make my life easier. That woman is determined to ruin our tropical adventure.”

Annika, a woman who had seen me naked more times than I could count, patted my arm. She was like a second mom. She’d been literally dressing me for almost half my life. “You’re more capable than they give you credit for.”

“Yeah, well, now I just have to prove it.” I thought about Elizabeth and the months she’d spent designing this collection. She’d been under so much pressure when she first joined the family. She had struggled to get into the fashion world and I didn’t want to fuck that up for her. “I don’t want to let Elizabeth down. She went through a lot when she first started designing for Blackwell. She deserves a flawless launch.”

“She does. And she has faith in you.”

“She’s the only one.” The words came out more bitter than I’d intended.

“That’s not true. I have faith in you. Your mother does. Even your brothers, in their own dysfunctional way.”

I wanted to believe that. I really did.

“Besides,” Annika continued, her tone turning teasing again. “Having a pretty insurance agent around for two weeks might not be the worst thing.”