Chapter 7: Asking for His Help

Just as her lips were about to touch his, Sebastian's eyes snapped open.

His ice-blue eyes still held a trace of alcohol's haze, but clarity and sharpness had returned, along with undisguised revulsion churning in their depths.

"Get out."

That single frigid word froze Emma in place.

"Mr. Carter, I—"

"I said get out." Sebastian's voice came out low and rough, but carried absolute authority. He pushed himself upright, a pounding headache splitting his skull, yet looking at this woman who had thrown herself at him, all he felt was nausea.

This woman felt nothing like the one who had shared his bed that night.

The disgust in his eyes cut Emma like a blade. Her face went white as she grabbed her jacket and fled the room, humiliation searing through her.

The empty room held only Sebastian now.

He yanked at his tie irritably, his mind a chaotic mess.

Publicly humiliated, abandoned by his subordinate, and now some delusional woman trying to climb into his bed.

Rage churned in his chest. He grabbed his phone and dialed Sophie's number.

The phone rang endlessly before she finally answered, her voice cautious. "Mr. Carter?"

"Sophie!" Sebastian's voice nearly shattered the speaker. "Are you still dealing with your little emergency?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Carter, I might need a bit more time—"

"I don't want your excuses!" Sebastian cut her off coldly. "Get back here. Now."

The fury crackling through the phone felt like an electric shock against Sophie's ear.

She stood in the cold wind, gripping her phone, Laura's desperate face overlapping with the name on that business card, and cold flooded her veins.

She ended the call. There was no time for explanations. She told Laura she'd figure something out, then flagged down a taxi and raced back to the hotel.

When she pushed open the suite door, the sharp smell of alcohol hit her like a wall.

Sebastian sat alone on the sofa, his tie askew, the top two buttons of his shirt undone to reveal the defined lines of his collarbones. He held a glass of water, his eyes dark and predatory as they fixed on her, those ice-blue irises gleaming like blades under the lights.

Sophie's heart climbed into her throat. She hurried forward and bowed deeply. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Carter, I—"

"Is this your idea of professionalism? Handling personal matters during work hours?" Sebastian interrupted coldly, his tone dripping with fury and mockery.

Sophie's face flushed hot then cold. She knew that in front of an enraged boss, any explanation would be futile.

She bit down hard on her lip, and her knees buckled. She dropped to the floor.

Sebastian's brow twitched, his gaze sharpening further.

"Mr. Carter, please." Sophie's voice cracked, tears threatening to fall. She held up the crumpled business card. "My brother made a stupid mistake. He offended someone, and they said… they said only you could help him. I'm begging you to give him one chance."

Her voice trembled, tears streaming down her cheeks and hitting the polished floor.

She looked desperate and helpless, like a trapped animal with nowhere to run, fragile enough to shatter at a touch.

Sebastian's gaze traveled over her, taking in her reddened eyes and trembling shoulders, and something clicked in his mind—a blurry memory suddenly sharpening into focus.

That night. The woman crying beneath him, begging for mercy.

The same voice, husky and pleading. The same eyes, filled with panic and glistening with moisture.

He had been so certain it was Emma, but Emma didn't have this quality—this contradiction.

The professional secretary by day who could ignite every desire in him after dark. That contrast fit the woman kneeling before him perfectly.

Sebastian's throat worked as he suppressed the strange sensation rising in his chest.

He leaned back against the sofa, his posture lazy but dangerous, looking down at her from above.

"Why should I help you?" His tone was slow and measured, as if weighing each word carefully. "Sophie, this is business, not charity. You need to show me what I get in return."

Sophie's body went rigid.

She had known Sebastian wasn't a charitable man, but she hadn't expected such brutal directness.

What could she possibly offer him? Money? He had more than he could spend in a dozen lifetimes. Power? She was nothing but an insignificant secretary.

Humiliation and helplessness crashed over her like waves.

She lifted her head, tears blurring her vision as she looked at him, her eyes full of struggle and desperate resolve.

"If you'll help," she forced out each word as though it cost her everything, "if you'll save my brother, I'll do anything."

"Anything?" Sebastian's mouth curved into something predatory. Those ice-blue eyes raked over her body without restraint, as if appraising merchandise.

His gaze felt invasive, making Sophie feel stripped bare, shame searing through her.

But for her brother's sake, she could only clench her jaw and meet his stare, nodding firmly.

"Yes. Anything."

Watching her like this, Sebastian's suspicions deepened.

He suddenly felt this game had become far more interesting.

Without another word, he picked up his phone and made a call.

When it connected, he spoke only a few sentences, his tone flat but carrying absolute command.

"Release him. The matter ends here."

He hung up and looked at Sophie, still kneeling on the floor. "You can go."

Sophie stared at him, stunned.

That was it? In less than a minute, the crisis that had driven Laura to desperation, that had forced Sophie to her knees, had been resolved with a few casual words.

Only now did she truly grasp the extent of this man's power—something beyond her comprehension.

Relief and dread flooded her at once. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

She braced her hands against the floor and struggled to stand, her legs numb from kneeling so long.

"Thank you, Mr. Carter… truly… thank you…" Sophie's voice broke. She didn't know what else to say beyond gratitude.

Sebastian watched her disheveled but genuine expression, and some of the irritation churning in his chest actually subsided.

He found he didn't mind the look in her eyes right now—clean, uncalculating, nothing like Emma's scheming gaze.

"To thank you properly, I… I'd like to take you to dinner, if you have time?" Sophie gathered her courage and asked carefully.