This time, she was his.
And every person in that room knew it.
She sensedhim before he came into view; an itch beneath her skin, like the air changed simply because he’d entered it.
Sebastian drifted through the lounge with calculated grace, his gait too smooth to be casual, each step carefully placed, measured. The crowd shifted around him without realizing it, unconsciously parting in his path.
Arden’s chest tightened.
“Busy night?” Sebastian asked as he approached, his tone light, conversational. “Looks like you’re holding court.”
Then, his voice dropped, smooth as silk pulled tight over broken glass.
“You’ve got a sharp mind, Arden,” he murmured, eyes never quite leaving hers. “It’s rare in a place so obsessed with polish. Most people only know how to reflect. But you? You cut through it.”
She tilted her head, the compliment hitting with the wrong kind of weight. “Thanks. Though I wouldn’t underestimate the depth around here. It tends to surprise you.”
A soft chuckle. Controlled. Calculated.
“Touché.” His gaze lingered too long. “But you stand out here, in ways I doubt even you realize.”
His glance drifted toward Gideon. A flick of amusement. A subtle dare.
Gideon didn’t move, but his jaw flexed a silent acknowledgment. A warning.
Sebastian caught it. Smirked wider.
“Still,” he mused, “working under Gideon must come with its own… complexities. He’s always had a reputation for playing too rough. Doesn’t always leave the pieces intact.”
The jab slid between words like a blade, veiled enough to feign innocence.
Arden straightened, tension bristling through her limbs before she could stop it.
“Sebastian.” Gideon’s voice cut clean through the din, quiet and razor-sharp. Violent in its restraint.
He hadn’t raised his voice. He never needed to.
Sebastian pivoted with disconcerting calm, the smile on his lips unchanged, but his eyes? They’d gone sharp. Darker. “No need to be territorial,” he said mildly. “I was being polite.”
“Don’t.” One word. A command.
Sebastian’s grin held, then flickered. He backed away a single step, retreat masquerading as grace. “Of course,” he murmured. “I’d never stir the pot.”
Arden focused on the glass in her hand, unwilling to meet either gaze. She refused to give Sebastian the satisfaction of reaction.
But as he walked away, every step landed with intention, echoing like punctuation. His eyes dragged over her one last time, not curious or admiring. Appraising.
Ice needled down her spine.
But the heat beside her, Gideon’s silent and unmoving presence, rooted her. A shield in the storm. One she hadn’t asked for but wasn’t about to refuse.
Fatima nudged her,smirking like she’d discovered a secret. “You know, I’ve said it before, but there’s definitely something going on between you and our brooding boss.”
Arden raised a brow, slicing clean through a wedge of lime. “You’ve said it more than a few times.”
“And I’ll keep saying it,” Fatima said breezily, though her voice carried more insight than humor. “But it’s different now. He’s… less ‘storm cloud about to explode’ and more ‘cloud that might let the sun peek through.’”
She laughed at her own metaphor, setting the citrus aside. “Still intense, obviously. But when you’re around, he looks… human.”
