“Meaning we’d like you and Sebastian to be the point people on this project,” my father said. “For the next nine months, your top priority is working on the collaboration. Together.”
CHAPTER 3
Sebastian
“YOU GOING TO TELL ME WHAT CRAWLED UP YOUR ASSand fucked you over, or do I have to wine and dine you before you give up the goods?” Xavier leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.
“Charming.” I turned off the heat and moved the scallops to a tray, where I let them rest for a minute. “Does Sloane wash your mouth out with soap every night, or have you corrupted her so much that she doesn’t care?”
He grinned. “Neither. She’s always loved my filthy mouth.”
I snorted and tossed my kitchen towel at him. He caught it easily, his eyes glittering with laughter.
We were in the Vault’s kitchen. I often tested new recipes here since I couldn’t bulldoze my way into any of my family’s restaurants. Professional chefs didn’t take kindly to other people invading their space.
The recipes were for me more than anyone else, but I took them as seriously as if I were serving them to a critic. That was why I was willing to call in a favor with Xavier to use his space.
The Vault was primarily a nightclub, but it also served asa luxury event space. Its private top floor included a wet bar, a twenty-person dining room, and a full-size gourmet kitchen, which was currently empty except for the two of us.
“Seriously, man. You’ve been moody all day, and that’s not like you,” Xavier said. “What’s going on?”
I hesitated, my brain flipping back and forth over whether to tell him the truth or make up some bullshit.
I’d known Xavier Castillo since boarding school. We’d been casual friends, but we hadn’t struck up a true friendship until a few years ago, when he’d cleaned up his act and opened the Vault.
The Colombian beer heir had been infamous in our social circle before his publicist/ girlfriend straightened him out. Gone was the hedonistic playboy whose debauched parties made the gossip rag headlines every other week; in his place was a savvy businessman who’d turned the Vault into New York’s ultimate place to see and be seen. He’d kept the place relevant since it opened, which was no small feat in a city where today’s hotspot was tomorrow’s trash.
One thing hadn’t changed, though. He was still nosy as hell.
“I have a lot on my mind,” I finally said. “Work stuff. The usual.”
“Work stuff, huh?” Xavier’s eyebrows shot up. “Does it have to do with the Singh collab you mentioned earlier?”
I kept quiet as I plated the scallops and carefully spooned beurre blanc au citron onto each one.
The mere mention of the collab made my head pound. It was the world’s most ill-thought-out plan, andIwas the one who had to make sure it was a success. With Maya.
A brief image of brown eyes and full lips flashed through my mind.
My jaw clenched.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Xavier sounded amused. “I thought you liked the Singhs. What’s the problem?”
“I do. Most of them anyway.” I garnished the scallops with chopped parsley. “The problem is, it’s not on brand, and we have nine months to accomplish something that usually takes twice as long. Plus, I have other priorities besides working with someone who’ll fight me on every little thing.”
I didn’t get it. It wasn’t like my father to be so impulsive. He was all about routine.
He’d played tennis at the Valhalla Club every Sunday for the past twenty years, spent precisely three weeks at our château in Provence every August, and always ate his steak medium rare with a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Michel Laurent was not a man who liked change, which was why I was convinced an army of brain-eating bacteria was actively eroding his good judgment.
Part of me resented how easily Neal had convinced him to take a huge business risk when I’d failed repeatedly at getting him to support my own risks. If it weren’t for my mother’s quiet but steadfast support, I’d never go home. There were only so many dismissals I could endure before I snapped.
“Ah.” Xavier laughed. “Sothat’sthe problem. Maya. I should’ve guessed.”
I bristled, my focus shifting from my father back to the other thorn in my side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that girl has had you all twisted up since boarding school.” He snagged a scallop off the plate and popped it in his mouth. “Every time you act weird, it’s because of her.”