Chapter 4
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*
A stretch limo rolled up thirty minutes later. Hayden Guzman stepped out, looking like a storm cloud. He yanked Yasmine into a rough hug, growling, “Just say the word, Yasmine. I’ll snap Sebastian’s legs tonight.”
Yasmine’s tears had been on the verge of spilling, but his words froze them in place. She grabbed his arm. “Don’t be an idiot,” she said, half–annoyed, half–fond.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re still defending him? You’re not still into that jerk, are you?” He stared her down. “Three years married, and you forgot you’re a Guzman? Still playing the martyr?”
Yasmine met his gaze with steady eyes and shook her head.
She’d cut ties with her family to marry Sebastian. She’d even tried hurting herself. Her grandfather finally caved, making a three–year bet.
If Sebastian fell for her in three years, the Guzmans would accept him.
But if Sebastian caused scandals or hurt her, the deal was off. She’d go home, inherit the fortune, and cut ties with the Zimmermans.
15
Anne had pushed Sebastian into the marriage, but Sebastian and Yasmine had lived like a normal couple for three years. Then Ashley showed up.
“Hayden, I signed the papers,” Yasmine said. “I’m done with Sebastian.”
Hayden finally smiled, wiped her tears, and sighed at her change–not the girl she’d been three years ago. “The family’s missed you like crazy.
“If not for that contract, we’d have been here already. You were so stubborn, giving up being a Guzman princess to be a Zimmerman servant.”
Yasmine almost laughed. Hayden’s mouth was still as sharp as ever.
He kept ranting. “No, I’m definitely snapping his legs.”
The violence made Yasmine’s head hurt. She didn’t want a scene near the Zimmerman residence. She pulled Hayden into the car. “Hayden,” she said, “come on, you’re a businessman. Act like it.”
He frowned, “What’s that got to do with breaking his legs? You got mistreated. You think I’ll sit back? Oh, I get it. You think it’s too crude? Fine. I’ll kidnap him first.”
Yasmine sighed, “Just drive, Hayden.”
As noon approached the next day, Sebastian lounged at the dining table, legs stretched out. For the fifth time, his eyes drifted upstairs. Glancing at his watch, he frowned and asked the maid, “Where is she?”
The maid trembled. “Madam’s not home, sir.”
Sebastian’s brow furrowed deeper. “Go get her.”
The maid hesitated, handing him some papers and a note. “Mr. Zimmerman… you should see this.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, fingers twisting.
Sebastian had skimmed the agreement yesterday so he grabbed the note instead. It read: [Sebastian, face facts. After all those
remedies Mandy forced on me? Here’s the truth–you’re the problem.]
He crumpled the paper, eyes blazing. He tried Yasmine’s number, but all he got was the voicemail.
The air around him turned icy. The maid backed away. “Your mother’s arriving tonight, sir,” she whispered, her head bowed.
Sebastian stood, hands clasped behind his back. “Use every resource. Find Yasmine.”
