What I really wanted…
My mind tangled instantly—Sebastian and his games, my father and his, years of feeling unseen and unheard, wanting things I was never supposed to ask for. What was the point of wanting anything when no one ever wanted to give it to me? Life never handed me shit. If I wanted something, I had to take it.
“I know what I want,” I said, rising from the bed without his aid.
Henry let his arm drop. “You do?”
I shrugged, a smile forming at the corner of my mouth. That wasn’t how this was going to end.
This time, Sebastian didn’t get the last word.
Work that week was somehow both fun and horrible.
VistaReal had turned out to be a great fit for me. The job was demanding, but it leaned straight into the things I was good at—reading a room, connecting dots no one else bothered to look at, catching what people muttered under their breath, and turning it into something useful.
Marcela noticed. That’s how I ended up sitting in meetings people at my level usually heard about through office gossip instead of firsthand—because I could walk in, read the dynamics in thirty seconds, and hand her exactly what she needed. Did I understand every spreadsheet on sight? Absolutely not. But I always knew which questions to ask and which ones to save for a late-night Google deep dive. And every time I cracked something open or held my own in a room I technically had no business being in, it made me more confident—more certain I could get whatever the hell I set my sights on.
The company itself, though, felt… tight.
Phones rang more often and got answered faster. Conversations dropped to murmurs when certain names came up. Finance people walked the halls with clipped steps and tight jaws. Words likeaudit scope,liquidity, andreallocationfloated through conference rooms as if everyone had suddenly learned a new language overnight.
And to top it off, the CFO of the company was now actively avoiding me.
Which was incredibly annoying, sinceIwas the one avoidinghim. How the hell was I supposed to punish him for his terrible decision-making if I didn’t actually see him?
The truth was, he barely existed in the building anymore. When he did appear, it was between meetings, phone pressed to his ear, expression carved from stone. The few times I caught sight of him through glass walls or at the far end of a corridor, he looked like a man holding an entire structure upright by sheer force of will.
And even those tiny sightings made my stupid heart race. Every time I heard the click of expensive shoes in the hall or caught a trace of his cologne—Halfeti, of course—my whole body went on alert like I was being hunted.
I didn’t know how to handle this new distance between us. Even through my anger, I didn’t want to be away from him.
Confusing. Everything with Sebastian was always so fucking confusing.
Fortunately, Charlotte and Oliver were coming in a couple of weeks. That alone was enough to boost my mood. Spending time with my sister was the exact touching-grass moment I needed right now—a reminder that there was a whole life outside the Langley universe. I mean, technically she was in it too, but she was stillmysister.
Also, that was probably going to force interactions between us. He could avoid me at work, but he sure as hell couldn’t avoid me in social gatherings.
If there was one unexpected bright spot in the middle of all this, it was Vanessa. Sebastian’s assistant had somehow become my lunch-break companion—and, possibly, my best chance at understanding what the hell was going on inside his fortress. She had proven to be an invaluable source of insider intel.
Not that I was gathering information.
I was just… staying informed.
She found me out in the courtyard on Thursday, the midday sun warming my shoulders while the wind tunneled between thebuildings and chilled my ankles. Madrid couldn’t commit to a temperature.
Much like someone else I knew.
“Why are you out here?” Vanessa asked, dropping onto the bench beside me.
“It was getting stifling in there.”
That—and Mr. Boss Man had asked Marcela, in an unsurprising turn of events, to keep their meeting to department heads only, effectively running me out of it. He didn’t even look at me when he said it. Just a polite smile. No eye contact. Like I was a fucking intern he’d barely met.
Out here, at least, I could breathe without feeling the weight of his dismissal pressing down on my lungs.
“There’s AC in there,” she pointed out.
“Allegedly.” I took a bite of my sandwich. “Also, the vibe screamsimpending financial apocalypse.”
