I Hate That I Want You, Lena Sawyer

Chapter Three

Lena’s POV

My knuckles are white where they grip the edge of the kitchen counter. A week. It’s been a week since I walked out of Wes’s penthouse, and my phone hasn’t stopped vibrating. Each time Wes’s name flashes on my screen, I let every call go to voicemail. Even though it’s been a week, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about Wes’ betrayal. I also subconsciously find my thoughts drifting to Sebastian. But I know I can’t work in the company. I didn’t just flop my interview; I made out with Sebastian just the night before my interview.

He probably thinks that I did it to win his favor so that I’ll be hired as the company’s new marketing strategist. I try to take my mind off everything, pushing my apartment door open as I hold the heavy bag of trash in my hands. The humid evening air hits me, thick and suffocating. I take two steps towards the dumpster when the world suddenly tilts. A wave of dizziness hits me, and it’s so violent that my knees buckle. The bag slips from my grasp, spilling onto the pavement. I grab for the brick wall, my heart hammering against my ribs.

My head spins.

“Lena!”

Avery’s voice cuts through the roaring in my ears, and she rushes over to me, her arm sliding around my waist, concern etched on her face. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head, and my palm touches my now sweaty forehead.

I almost lose my balance, but Avery is quick to help me.

“I think we need to go to the hospital.”

The emergency room is a sterile, fluorescent purgatory. The wait feels endless, every tick of the clock a hammer blow to my nerves. I’ve been nervous since Avery mentioned that my palms are white and casually asked if I might be pregnant.

When the doctor finally comes in, her face is kind. “Well, Lena, the bloodwork is back. It’s severe stress and a touch of dehydration. You need to rest.”

“What? I’m not pregnant?” I ask, surprised.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you if you were looking forward to the news of a pregnancy,” the doctor says, her voice penitent as she looks from Avery to me, but I immediately wave a hand.

“No! I…uh… I’m relieved.”

The relief is so profound I almost feel tears in my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper.

As we walk out into the cool night air, the weight feels momentarily lifted. Sebastian is trouble. Avery was right all along. The last thing I want is to be entangled in any mess.

My phone pings with a new email. I almost ignore it, but something makes me look.

“SUBJECT: Lancaster Industries—Second Stage Application”

My breath hitches. I open it, my thumb trembling.

“Dear Ms. Lena, Thank you for your initial application. We are pleased to inform you that you have been shortlisted for the Junior Marketing Strategist position. Given an unexpected vacancy, the role is available immediately. All shortlisted applicants are required to be present tomorrow to make a presentation of their pitches. Kindly confirm your acceptance. Good luck.”

I stare at the screen, the words blurring. Tomorrow? It feels less like an opportunity and more like a trap snapping shut.

“What is it?” Avery asks, peering over my shoulder. She reads the email and lets out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned. Is this fate, or one hell of a plot twist?”

*

The Lancaster Industries tower seems to mock me the next morning, a monolith of glass. My stomach is a tight knot of nerves. I’m shown to a conference room where three other shortlisted candidates sit, and I do my best to hide my anxiety.

A woman walks in just then. She appears to be in her late forties or early fifties, dressed in a severe, impeccably tailored navy suit. Her hair is a sharp, silver-blonde bob, and her eyes, the color of flint, scan me with immediate disdain. I learn her name is Tessa Hale.

She moves through the room, her eyes scanning all four of us, and when Sebastian walks in for a brief moment, her entire demeanor softens. She touches his arm and says something that makes him nod. He doesn’t glance at me. He just gives her an instruction and leaves.

Then, her eyes find mine again. She drifts over, her perfume an expensive, icy wave.

“Lena, is it?” she says, her voice low and smooth as polished stone.

“Yes,” I say, my mind on alert.

A thin, condescending smile plays on her lips. “A word of advice, dear. Don’t get your hopes up. Sebastian is… off-limits. He has a particular taste, and it’s not for wide-eyed newcomers. He can be charming, but he’ll discard you the moment you become inconvenient. Remember, you’re one of four. Don’t mistake a callback for a coronation.”

What the f**k? Did Sebastian tell her something about me?

The venom in her voice is so precise, so unexpected, that it steals my breath.

Then, she turns and walks away before I can form a retort, leaving me feeling small and foolish.

Minutes later, we are at the conference room. One by one, the other candidates give their pitches. Then, it’s my turn. I stand, clicking to my first slide, my heart thudding. I’ve just begun explaining my core concept when the door opens.

Sebastian strides in, commanding the very air in the room. “My apologies for the delay. Please, continue.”

I try to pick up where I left off, my rhythm broken.

“Actually,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument as he takes his seat at the head of the table, his gaze fixed on me. “Start from the beginning. I’d like to hear the full presentation.”

What? Did he just say that I start again?

My flow is shattered. A hot flush creeps up my neck. I fumble with the clicker, my words becoming jumbled, my brilliant points now feeling stupid and ill-conceived. I can feel Tessa’s smug satisfaction from across the table.

“Miss Sawyer,” Tessa cuts in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “I’m not sure we have all the time in the world. Perhaps we should move on? Eloquence seems to be an issue.”

My cheeks burn. I’m drowning.

But Sebastian doesn’t look at her. His eyes are still on me, and for the first time, they aren’t cold. They are…patient.

“Miss Sawyer,” he says, his voice quieter, a low rumble that somehow cuts through my panic. “Be calm. Take a breath. Now, from the top. Tell us about your idea.”

Something in his tone is an anchor. I swallow, meet his gaze, and begin again. And this time, it flows. The words come back, my passion for the project reigniting. I speak clearly and confidently, building my case. I finish to a silent room, but the silence now feels attentive, not judgmental.

Sebastian gives a single, curt nod. “Thank you. That will be all. You may go.”

The dismissal is so cold, so abrupt after his moment of unexpected kindness, that it feels like a physical slap. Confused and deflated, I gather my things and hurry out, not daring to look back.

I need water. I need air. I find my way to a small breakout alcove near the restrooms, trying to steady my breathing. That’s when I hear them—two women, their voices a hushed, excited whisper around the corner.

“…completely has it out for the new girl, the one who just pitched. Tessa’s territorial; you know how she is about Mr. Lancaster.”

A giggle. “Like a hawk. But it’s pointless. Have you seen the photo on his desk? That’s the only person who truly has his heart.”

“His son? Oh, absolutely. It’s a pity that there is a rift between them, whatever it is, but it's so evident that he adores him. What’s his name again?

“Wesley. Wesley Adrian Lancaster. Such a handsome young man.”

My blood runs cold.

What?

“Wes,” the other woman says clearly.

The world tilts.

Wes? The same Wes?

I step out from the alcove, my face ashen. The two women startle, their gossipy smiles vanishing.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer, my voice trembling. “Did you just say… Wes? Wes Adrian?”

The taller one recovers, eyeing me with suspicion. “Yes. Wesley Adrian Lancaster. Mr. Lancaster’s son. But…who are you?”

I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. The pieces click into place with devastating, horrifying clarity. The similar jawline. The same intense eyes.

A cold dread, deeper than any I’ve ever known, washes over me, pulling me under.

Sebastian Lancaster is Wes’s father. I made out and probably had s*x with my ex-boyfriend’s father.