Summer’s POV
I stared at Sean in disbelief, trying to process this bizarre situation. The infamous Dr. Sean Sullivan–Brandon’s friend, one of the Wall Street Four–was supposedly the “Michael Sullivan” my mother had been scheming to set me up with?
Sean gestured for me to sit down, his expression softening slightly. Here, take a seat. Let me get you some water.” He poured a glass of ice water from the crystal carafe on the side table and handed it to me.
“Thanks.” I sat down, taking a grateful sip. “So about Michael…”
Sean settled back into his chair. ‘I’m sure you heard Jesse Turner before, that’s his real name. He’s my aunt Daisy Sullivan’s son– technically my cousin, not my ‘cousin–cousin‘ if you catch my drift. His name here in the New York is Michael Sullivan. My aunt married into the Turners and left New York years ago. My cousin is the heir to the Turner family.”
I frowned slightly. “I’ve heard Jesse Turner before, but why do you all call him Michael Sullivan?”
“Ancient history,” Sean waved dismissively. “My aunt had a falling out with the Turners years ago. My cousin visits the Sullivans every year, going by Michael Sullivan, but you know our Sullivan medical dynasty–if I don’t take over, it falls to him. My grandfather’s been hoping he’ll return to the family business and change his name back to Sullivan!”
Sean leaned forward, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Very few people in Manhattan know my cousin’s true identity, so Mrs. Stárk, I’d appreciate if you kept this between us!”
I cleared my throat, redirecting the conversation. “So what’s the deal with my mother and your aunt Daisy? How do they know each
other?”
“Another blast from the past,” Sean sighed. “Years ago, my aunt was kidnapped. Your mother happened to be there and helped save her life. So my aunt basically owes Elizabeth a favor–one she apparently decided to pass onto my cousin.”
I grimaced, the pieces finally clicking into place. My mother had cashed in a life–debt to arrange a marriage for me. Classic
Elizabeth Taylor move.
“I think I understand now,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Given what you’ve seen of my mother’s personality, I should apologize. Please tell your cousin I’m sorry about all this. Really sorry.”
Sean waved away my apology. “Don’t sweat it. I know my cousin well he hates being forced into anything. Your mother pretty much shot herself in the foot with this stunt. But this leaves you in a tough spot with her, doesn’t it?”
A bitter smile crossed my face. “I wouldn’t worry about me.”
The understanding in Sean’s eyes made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to people seeing through the carefully constructed walls I’d built around my family issues.
My phone rang, breaking the moment. Brandon’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hey, I answered, relieved by the distraction.
‘June,” Brandon’s voice came through, calm but with an undercurrent of tension. “Where are you?”
“I’m with Sean in one of the guest lounges,” I replied. “Everything’s fine.”
“Good. Come meet me and your grandparents. Both of you.”
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Chapter 145
Before I could respond, Sean leaned toward the phone. “Brandon! What gives? You sent me here, and now you’re checking up on us? Afraid I’ll steal your wife?”
There was a brief pause before Brandon’s voice returned, cool and deadly: ‘Sean, you’re not even close to being a concern.”
1 bit back a smile as Sean’s expression shifted from playful to slightly offended.
“We’ll be right there,” I said, ending the call before Sean could escalate things further. “Dr. Sullivan, shall we head out?”
Sean stood reluctantly. “Fine, fine. Your husband beckons.”
We were almost at the door when I heard it–a faint, rhythmic thumping from the lounge next door, followed by what sounded distinctly like a moan. I froze, heat instantly rushing to my cheeks.
Sean’s eyebrows shot up. “Summer, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t your sister book this entire floor for the wedding?”
I nodded, my face burning as another moan, louder this time, penetrated the wall. Oh god.
“Maybe we should…” I gestured toward the exit, desperately wanting to escape.
The sounds grew more insistent. I could feel my ears turning scarlet as I stared fixedly at the door handle.
Sean grabbed my arm, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Mrs. Stark, aren’t you even a little curious what’s going on in that Lounge during your sister’s wedding?”
“Absolutely not!” I hissed, yanking my arm away. “Let’s go!”
But before we could move, a woman’s voice cried out, clear enough that there was no mistaking her words or who she was: “Alexander, harder!
My heart stuttered painfully. Even though I’d long since moved on, hearing my former fiancé’s name in such a context—at his own wedding, no less–was jarring. I stood frozen, a complex swirl of emotions washing over me–not jealousy, but something closer to secondhand embarrassment mixed with disbelief.
Sean’s gaze softened with unexpected understanding. “Hey, you go ahead and find Brandon. I’ll check out what’s happening.”
Before I could stop him, Sean was crossing to the balcony door. He slid it open and slipped outside with surprising agility. I watched, mouth agape, as he hoisted himself over the divider to the neighboring balcony.
What the hell is he doing?
I couldn’t bring myself to follow, but neither could I leave. I paced the lounge, torn between fleeing to Brandon and waiting to see what Sean discovered. A mixture of horror and morbid curiosity kept me rooted in place.
Minutes later, Sean climbed back over the balcony divider, his phone in hand and a wicked grin on his face.
“What did you do?” I demanded as he closed the balcony door behind him.
“Nothing much,” he replied innocently, pocketing his phone. “Just confirming some suspicions.” He shook his head. “Seriously though, the guests are out there toasting the happy couple, and they couldn’t even wait until after the reception? Talk about impatient.
I was already at the door, desperate to escape both the sounds and this excruciating conversation. “Sean, let’s go!”
Sean sauntered out, looking far too pleased with himself. He caught up to me in the hallway, leaning close with that infuriating I smirk still plastered across his face.
Chapter 145
“Mrs. Stark,” he whispered, voice dripping with insinuation, ‘don’t you want to know what I saw in theter
I shook my head firmly, face burning. “No, I absolutely do not.”
The thought of Victoria and Alexander going at it on their wedding day, just rooms away from all their guests–including my grandparents–was mortifying enough without the details.
“Come on,” I said, quickening my pace. “Brandon’s waiting.”
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