And I can’t help but feel a swell of gratitude for these incredible friends, ready to leap into action for someone they’ve only just met. No questions asked, no hesitation. They already consider him one of us.
Then Anne sets her plan in motion. I watch it all unfold as if in slow motion.
She twists her ankle, stumbles dramatically, and her champagne arcs through the air with surgical precision, landing squarely down the front of May’s designer dress.
May shrieks like a banshee. The elderly couple beside her recoils in horror and quickly makes their exit. Jamie, Noah, and Francis leap into action, offering tissues and words of concern like well-trained butlers.
Anne, the picture of fake remorse, dabs at May with cocktail napkins that only make things worse.
May is livid, ranting about her ruined Gucci dress as she storms off toward the bathroom, trailed by our three “concerned” accomplices.
That’s my cue.
I stride over and take Seb’s hand, lacing my fingers through his. He looks up at me, eyes dull with exhaustion.
“Please, Remi… get me out of here.”
I squeeze his hand, firm and steady. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Seb. I’ve got you.”
And just like that, we slip away.
No one stops us. Somehow, despite the chaos, despite how magnetic he is, no one notices as we vanish through the velvet curtain and down the back stairs.
We reach the lobby, quiet, almost deserted. It feels like stepping into another world.
At the coat desk, the young woman behind the counter blushes the moment she sees Sebastian.
“Already leaving, Mr Arnette? The reception’s only just begun…” she stammers, clearly star struck.
Seb shifts uncomfortably, biting his lip. “Yeah, it’s a lovely evening, but I’m not feeling great… Would you mind letting Miss Morris know I left early because of a headache?”
“Of course, Mr Arnette,” she says, her voice practically trembling.
She disappears into the back, and when she returns with our coats, Seb thanks her with that signature sweetness, flashes his dimple, and adds a wink for good measure.
She nearly melts on the spot.
Even now, after everything, he still manages to catch me off guard with that quiet, playful charm.
Without thinking, I pull him a little closer, protective, maybe even a bit possessive, and guide him gently toward the exit.
Once we’re outside, out on the bustling pavement, I finally let go of his hand, but I can’t quite stop touching him. Gently, I take his chin between my thumb and forefinger and lift his face until our eyes meet.
Sebastian doesn’t bother hiding how drained he is, and strangely, I’m glad. It feels like trust. Like he doesn’t need to pretend with me.
In the softest voice I can manage, I ask, “Do you feel up to taking the tube? Or should I call an Uber?”
But, as always, he surprises me. He holds my gaze with quiet steadiness and shakes his head. “Actually… I’d like to walk.”
I don’t even let him finish before I frown, concern rising instantly. “Seb, are you serious? You look completely wrecked. And you’ve got every right to be, but what you need now is rest, sweetheart, not a trek across the city.”
Now it’s his turn to cut me off.
“Remi, I know you’re worried, and I appreciate it. Really. And thank you for rescuing me from my agent, by the way. Though I can only imagine what kind of wrath our friends are facing right now after ruining May’s dress… Whose idea was that, anyway?”
Then he bursts out laughing, light and unfiltered, like a kid who’s just pulled off the perfect prank. I can’t help laughing, too.
“Anne’s, of course,” I say, smirking.
