The Billionaire's dirty secret
I caught the suit of Sebastian, his phone placed sturdily against his ear with his hand sunken into his pockets.
He was sitting on his desk looking out of the window that overlooked the graceful lawn. I scrunched my brows, examining the details in his outfit, it was the same.
“Yes, I have the boy, he is here with me, boss,” he said in perfect American English. Every trace of the Italian accent was gone, it didn't even sound like he was a foreigner.
I pushed the door and it moved softly.
“He doesn't suspect a thing, at least not yet,” he chuckled. I couldn't believe it, it was Sebastian, the same man who had spoken to me with the accented grammar, the man who I was falling in love with.
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