CHAPTER 3

**

"I am so pissed off at you, I can't even begin to explain!"

Sarah's yelling at Sebastian in the office the producer provided to us. This was expected; we spent so much time going over the script and not only did Sebastian not follow it, but he deliberately went against everything we advised him to do.

"Do you understand what you've done? Putting your father's name out there? Why would you do that?"

It doesn't even seem like a necessary question to ask. We all know why Sebastian's doing this. But at the same time, part of his motive seems unknown to me.

As expected, Sebastian doesn't answer. Sarah, angry and frustrated, stares at him for an elongated period as if he will start cooperating.

"Now we're going to have to edit this out, which the producer won't want to do—"

"No," I say.

Sarah frowns at me. "What?"

"No, no this can...we can work this to our favor actually. A sympathetic approach."

"You're kiddin—"

"Sarah, can you give us a minute?" I tell her. Even I'm surprised the words have come out of my mouth, but I know that nearly a week is too long for this treatment to keep progressing.

"Fine." She says. "Not my battle to fight anyway, right?"

She's irritated. I hate when Sarah's irritated; it's a mood that lasts with her.

She leaves, and for once since "that night" Sebastian and I are alone together. I don't know where to start; maybe I should start at the fact that he almost exposed me on camera, but didn't. I know he was going to, though.

Was he?

He sits against the desk and stares at me, challenging me with his eyes like he always does. The clock on the wall ticks in the silence, sounding louder against my apprehensiveness.

"If you want me to apologize—"

"I wasn't going to ask." I snap back abruptly. He knows that a nerve has been hit with me, and I'm sure he secretly enjoys it.

"What I was going to ask, Sebastian, is why you did that?"

"What I did during the interview?"

"Yes, that. What else could I be asking about?"

He laughs, and I hate myself for enjoying the sound like I used to before our situation became rocky.

"We both know there's a lot you could be asking about."

I clench my jaw, doing a horrible job keeping my rising anger and anxiety caged. "I would prefer we keep personal and professional matters separate."

"You already failed at that," he replies smartly.

"If you want to have a mature, productive discussion about what happened between us, then I'm more than willing to. But now isn't the time."

"Fine. Do you want to know why I didn't say your name?"

My mind says yes, but the other part of me that I hate listening to knows that I won't be ready for the answer. So I remain quiet, as Sebastian waits for an answer.

He scoffs. "I didn't say your name because I knew saying my father's name would open up an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what?"

"An opportunity for the revenge I never got. I'm taking over Harrison Inc. soon if things go well with the Board and this "exposure" on his shoulders with everyone thinking he gave away the journal will get him off my back. The last thing I need is a power struggle while I'm CEO, so this will let him know that I don't want to be fucked with any longer."

I pace around the office—anything to pretend as if Sebastian isn't around me right now. He thinks provoking Garrett further is the best thing to do now? I know for a fact it isn't—pinning my mother against me and working with Ingrid is proof of that. Not to mention the other shit he has done against me in the shadows as a "punishment" for getting closer to Sebastian than he initially wanted.

"So throwing your father under the bus is your best idea? You know what he's capable of."

"Of course I know. You don't."

I roll my eyes. "I do know. I've seen his true colors, I'm pretty sure I know how he feels about me by now."

Oddly, Sebastian's expression turns sour and distraught. "No, you don't."

The awkward silence prevails once again. I have no idea what that response means, and despite my curious nature, I don't want to.

"Either way, that wasn't a good idea at all."

"I didn't ask for your advice. If anything, you should be thanking me."

My mouth almost drops to the ground, and the involuntary laugh that escapes my mouth doesn't help the situation, either.

"Wait, wait. You think I should be thanking you?" I chuckle. "Thanking you for what?"

"For sparing your name in the interview?" His reply towards me has a demeaning tone; a tone that comes off as if I'm too stupid to understand.

"Oh, God are you serious? That wasn't even part of the script!"

His laugh makes my blood boil. The words I say go in one ear, out the other, then somehow spark something in him strong enough for him to think this is comical. It's obvious he doesn't give a damn about separating church and state; work and love, if I can even call whatever this is between us that. But one thing he likes to forget is how well I know him. Sometimes, I think he hates how open he has been with me; Sebastian's like a wound that hasn't been closed yet to me. So if he wants to play this way, I won't stop him.

"Fine. If you want to do it this way, we can. I want an apology."

His laughter stops immediately. "An apology? From me?"

"Yes. Once you apologize to me, I'll thank you for "sparing" my name."

Sebastian gets up from the desk, and admittedly, this is when my heart beat becomes faster.

"What the hell could you possibly want an apology for?"

"Hm, let's see." I count off from my fingers for an added effect. "Giving me no time to explain the money situation with your father, having a threesome with Claire and Felicity, embarrassing me outside of your house after I caught you in your little threesome by not letting go of me when I told you to, violating me against my kitchen sink—"

"I did not violate you against your kitchen sink, Leslie," he repeats, annoyed.

"Really? That wasn't a violation of my "personal space?" Because I'm confident that coming into my apartment and putting your hands where they don't belong is a violation of my body!"

"You begged me not to stop—"

"You didn't even finish!" I shout against my better judgment.

"Do you want me to?"

I hate when he does this. It's as if he knows what will leave me rendered speechless and uses it against me. How am I supposed to answer a question like this? Would silence mean yes or no? God, why does it even matter?

You know the answer is yes, anyway.

Before I can answer (as if I could), Sebastian speaks.

"You want an apology? Fine. I'm sorry I'm the only guy that can make you come."

I don't know what's worse: the truth in his words or his nonchalance while saying them?

"Oh...my God," I manage to respond, my mouth agape and my cheeks flushed deep red. "You are...completely insufferable. I want to have a productive conversation and this is how you react?"

"This isn't a productive conversation. This is a "forgiveness" conversation. For you. You feel bad because of the shit you've caused, so you want someone to make you feel better for everything you've done? You want me to forgive you? Sorry, but doesn't work like that. As a matter of fact, I'll put it simply for you: I don't forgive you. Does that answer your question?"

Breathe, Leslie. Breathe. It's hard to, though. I've never dealt well with someone attacking me, especially if what they're saying is true. But some sliver of my wellbeing still believes that part of this wasn't my fault. Maybe that will lead to our demise.

"You're in denial," Sebastian continues. "You hold your head up high and keep your eyes straight ahead as if you didn't do anything wrong. Leslie, you gave my journal away because you were angry at me, for being mad at you for lying to me. Do you see how fucked up that is?"

"I—"

"Wait, wait, it gets better. When I met with you after my journal was leaked—the journal that documented every horrible thing that has ever happened to me in my adolescent life—you didn't even apologize for it. You expected me to apologize first for fucking Claire and Felicity as if me sleeping with you once made things official between us?"

That fucking hurts. But I can't show him that it does.

"And then after I 'violated' you against your kitchen sink, you told me that Gloria wasn't my real mom. But you want me to apologize, right?"

I feel like an ant being crushed by a boot—hopeless, weak, and vulnerable beyond description. The weight I feel—the weight of my guilt and pride—crashes upon me like the boot growing nearer and nearer. Sebastian stares at me, waiting for me to apologize and take responsibility. But my guilt and my pride won't let me. So instead, I stare back at him, forcing my eyes to become colder than his.

"Wow." Is all he can say. And after he says that, he leaves the office and gently closes the door behind him. I put my feelings aside and try to remember the work I should do. I do that in tense, uncomfortable situations to forget and move on, but in this case, it isn't working.

Not at all.

**

The days leading up to Sebastian's meeting with the Board were painfully generic. Darcy and I worked at slowly easing the media about Sebastian's journal leak, and I told Darcy as well as Sarah that we would have a lot of press to do about Sebastian "falsely" exposing his father about the journal. I'm almost certain Garrett knows by now. I've learned by now not to underestimate him.

This morning, Sarah called me saying that she believed that it would be best for me not to attend the meeting with the Board.

"You would prove to be a distraction," she argued. "You should come in after the conference is over to deal with the press."

"But isn't it important that I be there? I mean, there's a lot of press I'd need to cover for him, right? It would make sense to be present the entire time."

"True—"

"Look," I said. "I know you think that the impasse Sebastian and I are at will get in the way of our professional relationship, but Sebastian and I have made it quite clear at the studio on Sunday that we will keep our personal and professional issues separate."

He made that very clear. I'm sure "I hate your guts and will never forgive you" is what he wanted to say to me on Sunday. He got the "I don't forgive you" part down, though.

Sarah thought for a moment, then sighed in an annoyed fashion. "Alright. But please don't try anything discretely tempering with him."

"Sarah, please. I'm his publicist, not his bitter ex. I don't need to be patronized."

"Sure." She almost laughs. "Also, I have a firm that's interested in interviewing you this upcoming Friday."

"The day Sebastian's interview airs?"

"Joy, right? It's for Rodham PR. Very prestigious. With your record, you'll get in with no trouble."

I've heard of Rodham PR. It's prestigious, alright. And a block away from Harrison Inc. But who am I to complain about the location? It will be nice to be in a firm that doesn't smell like hotdogs, like my first internship.

I let Sarah go, telling her that I have to create some pitches and press releases. And that's all I do until the meeting with the Board comes around the next day. I make it to Harrison Inc. at around 11 in the morning—thirty minutes before it begins. In the conference room, there is a large table in the center with twenty chairs lined up all around, and extra chairs lined up around the room. I take a seat; the room is already almost full, with cameramen posted around the perimeter of the room. To my knowledge, the Board was informed about Garrett's retirement around two weeks ago, and today they commence the deliberation for the new CEO candidate—Sebastian.

At 11:35, when all the chairs around the room are filled, the Board starts sitting down at the table in the middle. Camera's snap away at their entrance. I look to Sarah, whose face is stoic and focused, waiting for Sebastian's entrance. I don't take a strong look at the attendees, but I know they are in good standing with Harrison Incorporated; the journalists present are ones I should familiarize myself with when this is over.

At 11:40, Garrett and Sebastian enter the room. Everyone stands for Garrett as if he's royalty, and with Sebastian being his son, they stand for him out of respect. Sebastian's suit is one I know he hates wearing, but it's hard to see past his expression; it's stoic and focused like Sarah's.

Garrett and Sebastian take a seat at the head of the table. Once they sit, everyone else does the same. The silence is chilling as Mr. Reynolds, the head of the Board of Directors, starts speaking about the history of Harrison Inc., the Harrison's influence on the company, and Garrett's "impeccable" influence over the past forty years since he was sworn in as President of the company, taking his father's place. He then goes on to talk about Garrett's "unexpected" and "abrupt" retirement, but the hope for a brighter future despite his retirement.

It's all bullshit. I know for a fact that Mr. Reynolds is fuming at the fact that Garrett brought Sebastian forth as the candidate. He was probably expecting Patrick, but I know that in Garrett's eyes, Sebastian is the only one not whipped in shape, and by becoming CEO, Sebastian would be the last Harrison child to finally prove their worth.

"My fellow Board members," Garrett begins. "I know that this news is quite unexpected and unsettling, but I am confident in my choice to take my place as Chief Executive Officer of Harrison Incorporated. This past month, Sebastian has proven to be financially, socially, and politically competent, and would bring forth the same values as the Chief Executive Officer of this incorporation. As per tradition at Harrison incorporated started by my grandfather and carried on by my father, thus carried on by me, it is custom for the Board to confess any concerns and questions for the candidate before carrying on with the unanimous vote. Your vote is rid of personal judgment and bias."

Like that last statement is going to help.

The first Board member to speak is an old, pale woman with a dark purple dress suit and bright ivory pearls around her neck, the same color as her hair. Her eyes hold deep contempt when they meet Sebastian's. He tenses up in his seat, and I feel the same anxiety he does.

"I think one concern that I'd like to address is one that all twenty-two of us on the Board have, and that's your...track record. Sebastian, it is true that in the past month, your behavior has improved considerably, but my worry is that this good behavior will end if you're sworn in."

I see Sebastian look at Sarah quickly, like one look is all that's needed to remind him of what he should say.

"I am aware of my reckless, immature actions that have given me a title and legacy not worth being proud of," Sebastian explains seriously. "But I've improved this past month solely based on my own initiative. I became aware of my behavior and how it affected myself and other people, and I took it upon myself to change for the better. So no, you do not have to worry about my behavior shifting for worse if I were to be sworn in."

The only people in this room who know that's a lie are Sebastian, Garrett, Sarah and I. But to me, it's harder to let it go, especially because of everything I know about Sebastian that many don't know.

"That's a noble testament," another Board member says—younger man with small eyes and a stern mouth. "But most people who 'break' out of their old habits fall back into them again. I mean, just last week you were caught in an escapade at a house party of yours. Are we to trust a man like that with a billion-dollar corporation? Our partners in China and Korea certainly would not condone this from a CEO."

"Well, it's good to know you read your People Magazine from time to time," Sebastian replies. The room laughs. Well, everyone in the room except the Board and Garrett.

Mr. Reynolds takes the floor. This is when I start to get nervous; this self-righteous ass hates Sebastian the most.

"With all due respect, Garrett, it's obvious he's still a child. He takes his debauchery as a joke! What's the point of having a degree in economics if you don't have the mental capacity to sit in a finance meeting for more than three minutes without getting bored?"

I see the anger rising on Sebastian's face, but I also see that the Board agrees with Mr. Reynolds. This isn't good.

Sebastian sits up, trying to seem more authoritative. "Well, I—"

"Can you imagine the hit our stocks would take if he became CEO? It would be depressive," another Board member adds.

"That's unavoidable with any person you pick to be CEO—"

"Do you even have a vision for Harrison Incorporated?" Mr. Reynolds asks patronizingly. "A vision that doesn't include turning the executive suite into a brothel?"

People gasp, others laugh, and the rest stare in shock. Mr. Reynolds is relentless, and Garrett won't come to Sebastian's aid. Somehow, I feel that this is his way of testing Sebastian.

"Do you know how to ensure that expenditures of the company are within the authorized annual budget? How to communicate with shareholders, employees, government authorities, and other stakeholders? Do you even know what

amortization means? How to calculate rate of return? What about leveraged buy-out?"

The laughter from the Board persists. Sebastian is being humiliated and no one can help him, and in truth it hurts my heart to see him being attacked like thi—

"The running down or payment of a loan by instalments."

Everyone stops talking, laughing, whispering when Sebastian speaks sternly. Mr. Reynolds adjusts himself in his seat when he hears him.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian?"

"Amortization is the running down or payment of a loan by instalments. You calculate rate of return by expressing the economic gain as a percentage of the capital used for its production. Regulation of this is implemented to stop the exploitation of monopoly power. And leveraged buy-out is purchasing a company using borrowed money to pay most of the purchase price. The debt is secured against the assets of the company being acquired. And the interest will be paid out of the company's future incoming capital. Any more terms you'd like me to define for you, Mr. Reynolds?"

By Garrett's face, he wasn't expecting this. And by Garrett not expecting this, the later events are up to complete chance.

"We can go back and forth on how immoral I am, or how irresponsible I am, or even about how I have no sense of direction," Sebastian addresses to the entire Board of Directors. "Believe me, I've heard it before. I'm used to it. But I know that you need a CEO. And I believe I can do it. I didn't go to Yale just to receive a degree that's complete bullshit; I passed my econ classes with A's each time. Just because I like to have fun doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about. But now I realize that it's time to settle down and get my priorities straight."

When Sebastian's eyes lock on mine, it's a look not of spite, but of remembrance; when he looks at me, he looks as if he's remembering something. Then his eyes focus onto Mr. Reynolds.

"You all have probably seen the information about my past all over the internet by now. You all probably believe that it has made me weaker. It's done the opposite. Now I see exactly what my direction is. And when it comes to Harrison Inc., my direction is clear: making this company prosper even more than it has before. Making me the face of Harrison Incorporated will benefit you in several ways—"

"Did you tell him to say any of this?" I whisper to Sarah.

Sarah shakes her head. "No. I didn't."

"—I'm young and good looking. That's already good marketing and press. I know what people want, even if it isn't clear the first look. I work well under pressure, understand the core Harrison values with being a Harrison myself, and can attract many more interested companies looking for partnerships that you wouldn't believe Harrison Inc. would partner up with before. In short, I can make Harrison Inc. richer than you would have ever imagined. I can make you richer than you would have ever imagined. That choice, though, is up to you."

Mr. Reynolds calls for a recess before the Board votes. Garrett is by Sebastian's side the whole time; the press are not allowed to confront Sebastian with questions at this time.

After the recess, the Board comes to a unanimous vote in favor. I didn't expect Sebastian to be happy about it; he signed his soul over to this corporation when he was eighteen, and didn't expect it to follow him around until he was twenty-eight. Still, our hard work has accounted for something. And after the voting, the press take a myriad of photos—of Sebastian, of the Board, of Garrett especially. It seems never ending, especially afterwards when Sebastian shakes hands with his (hopefully) future business partners. And after he speaks for a few moments to the press, I want to congratulate him. It's in good faith to, right? Even despite our current standing.

Sebastian stands with a reporter, almost done with his brief interview. I walk over to him, going over what to say and how professional I should make it. It isn't what I will say that scares me, but the rejection that makes me think of turning back around. But I can't; I stand in front of him now, and he looks straight at me as I do the same to him. I open my mouth to say what I went over in my mind, but someone coming from behind Sebastian halts the works from coming out of my mouth.

"Excuse me. My uncle and I have to leave now, so I wanted to say congratulations before I left."

The man in front of me is someone I've never seen before, but deep down I feel as if I know him from somewhere. His eyes are as dark as an abyss, mysterious and unreadable but still capable of drawing you in like you're reading a book. Everything about him seems to be dark—his curly hair, his tan skin, his facial hair. Even his energy. But it's almost alluring; alluring enough for me to forget why I came here in the first place.

Sebastian, eyeing this man up and down, shakes his hand reluctantly but offers a courteous smile. His hands and wrists are covered with tattoos, the most noticeable ones being roman numerals or Latin numbers etched onto each of his knuckles. One thing in common between them is their height but against Sebastian, this man's frame is a bit more muscular. Though it's hard to really tell against the ebony of his suit.

"Alejandro Quintanilla," he says. His voice is deep and smooth; accented, Spanish, I presume.

"Salvador Quintanilla is your uncle, correct?"

Alejandro nods slowly. I notice his movements are gradual, like he's studying Sebastian's mannerisms and behaviors. But Sebastian does the same, his gaze narrowing in on him.

"Yes, Salvador. I just wanted say congratulations on behalf of the Quintanilla family. We're looking forward to a prosperous future ahead for us and the Harrisons."

"Well, let's hope so," Sebastian's responds. You can tell he wants this conversation to end, but Alejandro enjoys Sebastian's lack of confidence; confidence that he had while addressing the Board.

"Don't be so unsure of yourself," Alejandro laughs lowly. "You'll soon realize the empire than two men of power can create together, Sebastian."

And then Alejandro looks at me as if he hadn't realized I have been standing by this whole time. The moment our eyes meet, the coldest, most intense chills run up my spine and cause goosebumps to rise on my arms. As I've stated before, the familiarity of his aura makes me feel like I'm not in control of my own body. After a moment, a smirk teases his ample lips; I swallow hard and look down at my shoes before apologizing and walking the other direction, faster than my heels should take.

"Who is that?" I ask Sarah when I'm next to her.

"Who?"

"That man over there with Sebastian." Stupid question; I already know his name. But there's surely more.

"Alejandro Quintanilla," Sarah answers, rolling the "r" and drawling out the "l's." "His family has been out here doing business for a while."

"His name sounds familiar."

"Remember that Harrison Inc. party last week or so?"

That's it. Salvador was here because of some real estate project or of that sort.

"Ah, that's right. You told me they'd be there."

"Well, their family is loaded. One of the richest families in Colombia, if not the richest. They take care of properties and time shares on Colombia's coast for big money vacationers and have been looking at investing and expanding here in the U.S."

The conversation between Alejandro and Sebastian has turned more serious, succeeding at peeking my interest. Sarah's interested as well; Sebastian stares at him for a long period before Alejandro

bids him farewell and parts from him, people surrounding each side of him.

"I know that look," Sarah says. "Sebastian is not happy."

For once, I don't pay attention to him when his name is mention. Instead, I follow Alejandro, nearing where we stand as he leaves the conference room. The closer he gets, the lower I hold my eyes, but the last moment that I look up, Alejandro is staring at me again. And to me, it feels as if the world has paused around us, slowing down to extend the stare we share. He smiles at me again, but its subtle, like he knows something I don't. like he knows well see each other again. And I can't help but wonder what the next encounter will be like. He'll most likely forget me; he only looked at me—

"Leslie," Sarah says like she's been saying it a few unsuccessful times before.

"Wh-what?"

"C'mon," she laughs. "We have a lot of work to do."

"Right." I pull into work mode again, though "his" name remains in my mind, as well as the sound of him saying it. "You're right."

**