Because he still hadn’t broken up with his fucking boyfriend.
The only reason I knew this was that Vanessa—Sebastian’s assistant—and I were friends now. Lunch-break friends. And she let slip a couple of times that Luca had come by or had been calling him.
Sebastian himself had barely been visible. When he was, he moved through the floor like a storm front rolling in—phone to his ear, jacket slung over his shoulder, tie loosened, beard darker against the hollowing shadows under his eyes. More than once I’d caught sight of him late in the evening when I was leaving, still in his office with the lights low, the glow of his monitors reflecting off his face. He was working insane hours. Even by his standards.
And every time our eyes met, he still found the energy to smirk at me like nothing in his world was on fire.
I should’ve been focusing on my schoolwork—and I was. The Sebastian obsession was just a side project. The classes were interesting and challenging, and unlike some in uni, I felt like they actually prepared me for the real world, which I was also a part of.
Budgeting was its own challenge, but I’d worked out my credit card debt with the bank, turning it into smaller payments I could actually manage. I’d only received one paycheck so far, but for the first time in months, I felt like I had my life under control again.
When Henry returned on Saturday, he announced we’d all been invited to a club opening. Not a surprise—he got invited to these every day of the week—but he came back from his trip a little off. Exhilarated and light, but also more chaotic. Still, after working, studying, and overthinking full-time, I was craving a shift in pace, so I didn’t complain.
Not when we showed up a little early for the VIP party.
Not when we both started drinking faster than usual.
Not when we got our picture taken, and Henry posted it on social media, and it blew up in minutes.
Nope. Tonight was going to be a fun night out.
An hour and a half later, Henry and I were well past tipsy, swallowed by the dance floor, surrounded by a pack of strangerswho had instantly become our new best friends. Henry’s arm hung over my shoulders; someone else kept shouting along to the music. The bass rattled my ribs. Sweat clung to my skin. The whole room smelled like cologne, alcohol, and bad decisions.
Henry yelled something in my direction, but the chorus drowned him out. Then?—
“Oh! Hey!” He peeled his arm off me and waved wildly.
“What?”
He leaned in until his hair brushed my cheek and shouted in my ear, hot and loud, “Everyone’s here!”
Flinching, I followed his line of sight… and of course. Mateo. Sebastian. Luca. And the little entourage glued to him like decorative barnacles.
I groaned. “Why did you invite them?”
“Because I like my brother, and they’re my friends?”
“I can’t be drunk around him.” I frowned and took a half-step back. “Now I have to stop drinking.”
“You do whatever you think is necessary,” Henry said, patting my chest. “Just keep Slutty Ethan under control and you’ll be aces! Let’s go say hi.” He latched onto my hand and dragged me through the crowd.
They were gathered around a tall table in the VIP area, the lights softer here, cooler, the music more muffled under the balcony. Luca and his friends were a little farther off, snapping pictures of everything—again.
Henry said hi first, stopping beside Mateo, slipping his hand onto Mateo’s shoulder as he leaned in to talk animatedly into his ear. Mateo nodded at me in greeting, trying to follow whatever Henry was babbling about.
I faced Sebastian Langley. Our eyes met, and just like every other day this week, we both tried not to be too obvious about our stupid, hidden smiles. But something in his felt… strained. Like it arrived a fraction too late.
Then again, he’d shown up tonight. Things couldn’t be that bad.
Sebastian leaned a little closer, a glint behind his eyes. “Are you two having fun?”
There he is.
I grinned. “So much fun. Doesn’t it look like we are?”
“So much,” he echoed, mouth tilting in a low chuckle. Then his gaze dropped—and so did his grin.
I frowned at the sudden change, followed his stare… and saw it. My hand still wrapped around Henry’s. When I looked back up, his expression was composed again, perfected into that polished, controlled calm he wore like a second skin. But that tiny crack? That brief flicker of something real?
