The Publicist's Plight (Book I in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Sixty Three: Two to Tango

"Wow," Sebastian says quietly. "You look...you look..."

"Spit it out," Viv snaps tersely.

I burst out laughing, and Sebastian does, too, but more embarrassedly.

"You look amazing," he finally says.

I smile, holding my head down at my shoes. "Thank you."

Sebastian introduces Viv and I. Viv happens to be his housekeeper, who—by his words—is very unfiltered.

"It's nice to meet you, Viv." I say. She just nods.

"I get bedroom fancy for you before I go?" Viv asks Sebastian seriously; the look on her face indicates that this must be a routine for her.

When I say that I've never seen Sebastian's face so red and his eyes so wide, I mean it. He looks like he's about to explode. I think he expects me to be upset at her question, but all I do is continue to laugh even harder at Viv's honesty.

"No, no, it's not like that! She's just over for dinner."

Viv glares up at him like she's heard this bullshit too many times before.

"Alright, then. I go home now. See you tomorrow at 8."

"I know." Sebastian laughs. "You tell me every time you le—"

Viv's out the door before Sebastian can finish his sentence.

Sebastian, who's looking beckoning in jeans and a dark gray button-up shirt, still seems embarrassed.

"I'm sorry about Viv. She can be...a little too honest."

"No, don't apologize," I tell him. "She was hilarious."

I take in the house a bit more now. The interior is incredible—intricately stitched furniture, wood ceiling beams and warm, rustic colors schemes throughout the living room and central passage. I slowly pace around on the ecru marbled flooring.

I chuckle. "Okay, I'm sold. Your house is unbelievable."

Sebastian smiles modestly. "It's a place to sleep."

I follow him down a couple of steps that lead into the living room, and to the left, I see the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, there is a strong Spanish-esque feeling to it; upon walking into the kitchen, most of the area is designed with wood—wood cabinets, wood ceiling beams. The stove sits bellow its own arch, accompanied by stucco design plastered behind it. The island is where the sink is—the rest of the kitchen is mostly cabinets, counters, and a small table by the corner next to a window; the sun is still out, so the kitchen is very well lit by natural light.

"Is that steak I smell?" I ask him, practically salivating. "Or is that shrimp?"

Sebastian laughs, leaning his weight on the island; I notice a small grill wedged into the surface.

"I decided on Surf and Turf. Is that okay?"

I try not to nod too eagerly, but the way everything smells so far, I'm close to expressing my excitement. Everything is set up on the counter; Sebastian tells me that all that's left to cook is the last of the steak.

"This looks and smells amazing." I peak at the shrimp; is that lobster, too!? "You did this all by yourself?"

The nervous laugh and eye roll he gives me is actually quite hot, but I don't express that reaction.

"Well, I had a little bit of help. Viv lent a hand with the lobster earlier today and I called my Oma with seasoning ideas. So you'll taste a bit of Roma when you try it."