The British Billionaire's Baby by Cristina Grenier Read Free Book Online Page B

that could bring her down.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 4 – Two Purple Lines
    He was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate.
    Though Sebastian had agreed to the deal his business associate had suggested almost an hour ago, the man was still rambling on about profit margins and the resources they would need. It was almost as if he assumed that Sebastian hadn’t read the fifty page report he’d sent him beforehand.
    He had, of course, and found everything quite sound. He wouldn’t have agreed to the deal if he didn’t.
    So, here he was, staring up at the man as he continued to drone on, his thoughts drifting aimlessly.
    Well, not so aimlessly. As seemed to be his pattern lately, he worried over his parents and political obligations for a few moments before an image of Gabrielle Arnold slid firmly to the forefront of his mind. She lay beneath him, her back arched as he gripped one of her lovely ankles to his shoulder and drove into her in a mindless rhythm.
    Even now, two weeks later, he could remember the way she’d felt around him – her intoxicating moans and the clenching tightness of her inner muscles. Since he’d had her, she’d never been far from his mind, and he found himself struggling to concentrate in meetings that demanded his rapt attention.
    He was still in Manhattan and part of him was tempted to reach out and find her again. However, Sebastian knew the folly of such an idea. If he kept Gabby around, then she would eventually learn the truth of his identity, and that was always a catastrophe. While he didn’t particularly fear her trying to steal his money or leech from his fame, he preferred that she think of him as merely Sebastian. Things were easier that way.
    He left the meeting flanked by his guards on all sides. Though Amir had tried to chastise him for the little stunt he’d pulled the night of Gabrielle’s exhibition, Sebastian had been far from intimidated. Amir, in reply, had only tightened the security around him and now there seemed to be some sort of standing competition between them to see who came out on top.
    When Sebastian pulled his phone from his pocket, he frowned at several missed calls from his mother. He was coming up on the date he was supposed to return to England and she was already trying to set him up with a number of dull young ladies who she planned to have him marry. Really, her obsession with matrimony and heirs was enough to give him a migraine of epic proportions. It was two thousand fifteen, not fourteen hundred fifteen. It really was unhealthy for her to be so preoccupied with duty and family lines.
    However, Sebastian knew that for his mother, image was everything. She had long been in favor with the queen and didn’t want to lose that standing, meaning that she and the entire family had to be nothing less than proper members of the upper crust. Which, of course, meant his marrying some dry tea-biscuit of a woman, rearing a child to take the place that he was going to be muscled into.
    He would have to appease her, and sooner than he’d like. While he might not be crazy about the station he’d been born into, his parents had raised him the best they could and he owed them respect and loyalty. And so, grudgingly, he agreed to tea with a Lady Matilde Branscombe, daughter of Duke Something or the other of Chevigny. Honestly, what did titles even matter in this day and age? They were more of a nuisance than any distinguishing feature.
    So absorbed was Sebastian in his task that he stepped from the curb long before the light turned green – and just in time for the roaring honk of a delivery truck to capture his undivided attention.
     
    **
    Gabrielle stood in front of her most recent half-finished work. The vivid purples and lime greens stood out wonderfully, and as she stared at them, she contemplated her next move. She had a lot of space to fill; after all, she hadn’t