CHAPTER 44
Sebastian
“IT’LL BE WEIRD NOT COMING HERE EVERY WEEK,” MAYA said wistfully as we cleared out our shared office. There hadn’t been much in the beginning, but we’d accumulated a surprising number of decorative items over the past few months. “It’s only been a year, but I feel like we’ve been working here forever.”
I closed the lid on a full cardboard box and set it aside. A sly smile tugged at my mouth. “You going to miss working with me, Sal?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I dislike changing my routine.
That’s—” The rest of her sentence hitched on a gasp when I swept her up with one arm and tossed her on the table. A bunch of pens rolled off the edge and clattered to the ground.
“What was that?” I hovered over her, close enough to see her pupils dilate.
She licked her lips, her breath quickening. “I’ll miss working with you alittle,” she relented.
“Better, but not great.” I slipped my hand beneath her skirt, my fingers easily finding her growing arousal. “Try again.”
Maya sighed, her eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll miss working with youa lot.”
“There you go.” I rubbed a thumb over her clit. Her silk underwear was so wet, it hardly served as a barrier at all.
She squirmed, her back arching, her breaths turning into pants, but I pulled away right as her muscles tightened in anticipation. “Now let’s finish packing. We have dinner reservations at seven.”
Her eyes snapped open. She raised her head, her jaw dropping as she watched me retrieve the pens from the floor and toss them into an empty box with lazy nonchalance.
“Seriously? You’re going to leave me like this?” she sputtered.
“We’re at work, Maya. What you want me to do is highly inappropriate. Honestly, what would HR say?” My chest rumbled with laughter when she tossed an unopened pack
of Post-its at me.
“You are such a bastard.”
“Don’t worry,mon ange. I’ll make it up to you later.”
“You better,” she said, but her mouth twitched as she slid off the table and joined me in packing up. She was trying not to smile.
Maya always enjoyed a challenge. Easy things bored her.
We worked in companionable silence for a while.
It was the last day of August, and it marked a full year since our fathers dropped the collaboration on us. It was hard to believe that’d been only twelve months ago, considering how much had happened since then.
The reviews were in, and our second launch event had been a smashing success. The critics raved about the food, and when we debuted our collaborative frozen foods line— which we’d held off on doing until after the make-up launch —it’d sold out within a week. Both our companies’ stocks had soared, and we were already brainstorming strategies to scale up without compromising quality.
Maya and I didn’t need a shared office anymore after the
second launch, but we’d become attached to the room, so we’d held on to it for as long as we could. However, Singh Foods needed it as office space for their new director of corporate partnerships, who was scheduled to start next week. We had until the end of the day to move out.
It was just as well. Soon, I wouldn’t need a corporate office at all since I was transitioning out of my role as chief marketing officer for the Laurent Restaurant Group.
My father had kept his word. Considering the success of the launchand the new product line, he’d given me his blessing to pursue a career as a professional chef.
I was still figuring out what that would look like, but I had time. I’d agreed to remain as CMO until the end of the year so my replacement could get up to speed. After that, I was on my own.
The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.
We’d almost finished packing when I received a call from the lobby. “That’s lunch,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I met the courier at the elevators and tipped him handsomely. I brought the takeout bags back to the office and spread the food out on the conference table.
Maya’s nose twitched. It was adorable. “Is that the ramen we had last year? I thought their takeout was a one-time thing.”
“Make it a two-time thing.” I pushed the vegetarian bowl toward her. “This is our last official work lunch together. I wanted to make it special.”
Her wistful expression returned. “This really is the end of an era, isn’t it?”
“Sure, but we’ve been through many ends of eras together. It’s never reallythe end.”
“True.” Maya dug into her noodles. “Have you decided what you’ll do about Margaux’s offer yet?”
I hesitated. “Not yet.”
Margaux had offered me the sous-chef position at Brasserie M. Working with her wouldn’t be easy—she was a
tough boss—but it would be familiar. Comfortable.
But was I really throwing away a lifetime of certainty only to settle for comfortable?
Maya observed me, her gaze assessing. “Forget the chef aspect for a minute,” she said. “What do you want? I mean, really want. If you could snap your fingers and get anything your heart desired, no fine print included, what would you wish for?”
I didn’t overthink it; I just went with the first thoughts that came to mind, no matter how sappy they were. “Two things: to marry you and make you happy.” I paused, my next words slower to roll off my tongue. “And to open my own restaurant.”
Maya and I were taking it slow, but we both knew marriage was on the horizon. This story was always supposed to end with us together.
Owning a restaurant, though? I’d never admitted that to anyone, not even myself. When I said I wanted to run a kitchen, most people assumed I’d join an already- established business. I was untested as a professional chef, so trying to make that transition while starting a new restaurant from the ground up would be like trying to hike Mount Everest in flip-flops.
Plus, I was still grappling with some personal hang-ups.
The revelation that I hadn’t been responsible for the launch’s food poisoningor Wellgrew’s death had lifted a weight off my shoulders, but it was hard to shed years of fear and guilt overnight. Running a restaurant also meant I’d be responsible for my customersand my staff. If I failed, they’d suffer too.
But I had to bet on myself and take that risk. I couldn’t let the past hold me hostage, not if I wanted to build something worth having.
Maya’s eyes went bright and soft. “Marry me, make me happy, and open your own restaurant,” she repeated. “So three things?”
I smiled. “Three things.”
“That better not have been your marriage proposal, Sebastian Laurent.”
I laughed, my chest loosening. God, I loved her so fucking much. “Do I look like someone who would half-ass a proposal like that? No, when I propose, you’ll know.”
I couldn’t wait for that day.
“Good.” She returned my smile, her expression turning pensive. “Your own restaurant. I can see it. Chez Laurent.”
“Sal.” I set my chopsticks down and leaned forward.
“Please don’t tell me you think so little of me that you believe I’d name it something as trite as Chez Laurent.
That’s a nickname for my personal kitchen, not the moniker for a Michelin-starred restaurant.”
“Sorry.” Her eyes gleamed with amusement. “So you want to open your own restaurantand get a Michelin star.”
“Or three.” I shrugged. “Shoot for the moon, land among the stars.”
“That type of thinking is for other people. You’re Sebastian Laurent. You’re three-star material.” She spoke with utmost confidence.
Warmth kindled in my chest. “What about you? What do you really want?”
“Besides what I already have? Nothing.” Maya laughed when I shot her a skeptical look. “I’m serious.”
“Nothing? Not even the Gastronomic Event of the Year Award or a Nobel Prize?”
“Well… they would be nice,” she acknowledged.
“Winning a Nobel is a little delusional, but I swear, if we don’t make the shortlist for GEYA, it’s rigged. Another International Marketing Excellence Award would also be great. I’d be okay if I didn’t get it, though. Truly. I’m so proud of us for pulling off that second launch after… everything.”
She gestured around us. “The odds were stacked against us, but we persevered. That’s success. And honestly, I don’t feel the constant need to prove myself anymore. I can’t think of
anything I want that wouldn’t be for pure ego purposes.”
Another, smaller smile. “I’m happy.”
I didn’t press for another answer after that because that was what I wanted most of all—for her to be happy.
We finished our meal, our conversation turning to lighter topics. Once we were done, I tossed the trash and locked the door.
“Speaking of happy, there’s one thing we still have to do,” I said.
Maya furrowed her brow, no doubt running through the extensive Last Day Checklist in her head. “What?”
“Christen the conference room.” I picked her up and set her on the edge of the table again. “We can’t leave without giving it a proper goodbye.”
“You said that would be inappropriate,” she accused.
“It would be.” I kissed my way down her neck. “Good thing I love inappropriate.”
“Someone might see…” Her half-hearted protests died when I pushed her skirt up and traced the edge of her underwear with my finger.
It was a summer Friday in August, and the office was basically empty. I’d be shocked if anyone cared enough to check on us.
“That’s part of the fun,mon ange.” I sank to my knees.
“Now be a good girl and spread your legs so I can finish my lunch.”
My mouth was already watering, and when she obeyed, I dived in with single-minded intent. Her breathy moans filled the room as I ate her out on the conference table. My cock pulsed. I relished the way she whimpered and tugged on my hair almost as much as I did the juices flooding my tongue.
After a lifetime of dining in the world’s best restaurants, eating meals prepared by the world’s best chefs, she was still the most exquisite thing I’d ever tasted.
Maya soon came with a guttural cry. She was still shaking when I stood, hooked her legs over my shoulders, and drove
into her.
“HR… would definitely… not approve of this,” she gasped in between thrusts. Her head fell back, her pussy spasming around me.
Pleasure burned a fiery trail down my spine. I was fucking her so hard the table creaked with every stroke.
Laughter spilled from my throat. “It’s a good thing we don’t work for the same company then.” I hooked her legs higher, nearly folding her in half. “Since you’re still speaking in full sentences, that means I’m not doing a good enough job.” I slammed into her again. “Let’s remedy that, shall we?”
It didn’t take long for her words to dissolve into unintelligible moans. An hour and multiple orgasms later, we lay on the carpet, our breaths ragged in the sudden silence.
I barely remembered when we moved from the table to the floor, but I was too sated to move. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows and spilled across us, warming my already-flushed skin.
Once our breathing returned to normal, Maya faced me.
“This is going to sound random, but I’ve been thinking about what happened to your letter, and… I have a theory.”
A jolt of surprise zipped through me. I hadn’t thought about the letter mystery in months, but I waited, my curiosity piqued.
“You remember Neville Grafton, right?” she asked.
I cast my memory back to boarding school and conjured up an image of a tall, skinny kid with freckles and unruly dark hair. “Yeah, he was in Model UN with us. He threw up on Andy Kim during our Spain trip,” I said, remembering the offhand comment I’d made about him during her cousin’s wedding.
“Yes. You were going to tell me something before graduation, and he pulled you away.”
The memory resurfaced, murky with age but clear
enough to crystallize into images. That’d been the day after I slipped the letter through the slats in her locker. I’d wanted to make sure Maya received it, but Neville had interrupted us before I got a chance to confirm with her. I didn’t remember his excuse, but I remembered his locker had been next to hers. I also remembered the instances I’d caught him staring at her, his face filled with longing—and the way he’d looked at me during graduation, like he wanted to shove me down the stairs.
I’d thought I was imagining it because he’d been a quiet kid, a little weird, but harmless. Perhaps I’d been wrong.
“At Radhikha’s wedding, you said he might’ve had a crush on me. You were right. But it was, um, kind of abig crush,” Maya said, blushing. “He asked me out a dozen times, but I always said no. It got to the point where I had to threaten a restraining order against him because he wouldn’t stop leaving me stuff in my locker. Poems, gifts, things like that. This was after Spain. The poems were one thing, but I couldn’t figure out how he was getting the larger items in there even after I changed the combination. I still don’t. But Ithink he must’ve seen you leave me that letter, and he intercepted it before I got it.”
“If that’s true, why would he have left it in your notebook?” I reasoned. “He would’ve gotten rid of it to make sure you never read it. And how did he get your signature for the response?”
“Signatures aren’t hard to forge if the person is committed enough. As for why he left it in my notebook…”
Maya trailed off. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to figure it out, but the notebook was in my locker too. Maybe he read it on the spot and was going to toss it, but someone interrupted him, and he stashed it in the first place he could find.”
I frowned. “Maybe.” That sounded unlikely, but everything about the situation was unlikely.
“We can find out.” She propped herself up on her elbow,
her face growing more animated. “If we ask Christian to—”
“No,” I said firmly. “Don’t get used to relying on Harper. It comes with a price.” His fees were exorbitant, but his real trade was in secrets and blackmail. He wasn’t someone you wanted to be in business with unless you were willing to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. Maya’s face fell, and I felt compelled to add, “Besides, I hear he and his wife just had a kid. He’s probably too busy to chase someone down over an old letter.”
According to the grapevine, his wife had given birth to a daughter. Dahlia Maura Harper. Cute name for what I was sure was a cute kid.
It humanized Christian a bit, but I was still reluctant to call upon him for anything except dire emergencies.
“You’re probably right,” Maya said reluctantly. “But don’t you want to know what happened?”
“If I can find outwithout using Harper, sure, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m almost glad things unfolded the way they did.” My mouth quirked at her obvious surprise. “If you’d received my letter when you were supposed to, how would you have responded?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “In hindsight, I was… attracted to you, but I was so focused on our rivalry that I might have thought you were
trying to play a horrible trick on me.”
“We would’ve fought…”
“And it would’ve blown up in our faces,” Maya finished.
She sighed. “I hate that he thinks he got away with it.”
“If it was him.”
“Right. But if I see him at our fifteen-year reunion, I’m kicking his ass. He was a creep, letter or no letter.”
I laughed. “I’ll kick his ass with you.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I heard the smile in her voice.
We lay side by side and stared at the ceiling, our conversation petering out into comfortable silence. It smelled like dry-erase markers, lemon cleaner, and Maya’s
perfume. The carpet was rough against my skin, and I saw the faint outline of the cats she’d doodled on the whiteboard last year.
This was the exact position we’d laid in last Halloween eve, minus the yoga mats. We’d had our first major breakthrough for the launch event that night, so this seemed like a fitting goodbye for the office.
Maya was right. It was the end of the era, but it was only the start for us—and I couldn’t wait to see what the next chapter looked like.