That stopped her. Just for a second.
He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “It’s kind of admirable. In a masochistic way.”
She let out a soft laugh, trying to defuse the tension. “Wow. I’ll treasure that backhanded compliment forever.”
But her smile lingered a beat too long.
So did his gaze.
The silence that settled between them wasn’t awkward. It was something else. Something charged.
Harper felt the pull, sharp and undeniable, and for a second, she almost let herself fall into it. Instead, she stood. Slowly. Carefully. “I should probably go,” she said, but it came out softer than she intended, less sure.
Sebastian rose too, his expression unreadable now. “Yeah,” he said after a beat. “We can call it a night.”
Not because the work was finished, because they both knew if she stayed,they were about to make a different kind of mess.
Harper began gathering her things, fingers moving quickly, too quickly. A tell, if he’d been watching.
He walked her to the door in silence. The earlier banter was gone, replaced by something more careful. Something that felt like a decision waiting to be made.
“Thank you for your help, Sebastian,” she said, aiming for neutral. Her voice mostly made it. Her eyes didn’t.
“Anytime, Sinclair.” His fingers brushed hers as he reached for the door handle and maybe it was an accident. Maybe not, but either way, it landed like a spark. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Sebastian,” she replied.
Their eyes held for one more heartbeat before she stepped out into the cool evening. The door closed with a soft click, but not before she noticed the Cheshire Cat’s grin catching the streetlight, as if daring her to admit she’d felt something. She shook her head, muttering, “Not a chance.” The night air was sharp, grounding, pulling her back to the weight of the files in her bag.
This was a problem. A big, complicated, Sebastian-shaped problem. The kind of distraction she couldn’t afford. Not now. Not with Sarah’s files in her bag and Charles Hawthorne’s secrets still unraveling.
By the time she reached her car, she was shaking her head—like motion alone could clear him from her mind.
She had to stay focused.
10
Smile Like The Entire Press Corps Isn’t Watching You
Of all the absurd things Emilia Carter thought she’d be doing with her Saturday, performing emotional sincerity for an audience of hydrangeas and high-powered lenses wasn’t high on the list. Yet here she was, standing in the royal palace gardens, pretending that the camera crews lurking behind the hedges weren’t making her skin crawl.
The sun spilled like honey over the lawns, the roses were in a full, show-off bloom, and somewhere, the palace’s most terrifying PR woman was barking into a headset like a general about to lose a battle.
“Chin up. Shoulders relaxed. Smile like you’re thinking of something private but adorable,” chirped the photographer, who, despite looking like a lost surfer, had a gaze sharp enough to slice through steel.
Emilia arched her brow. “What if I’m thinking about tax fraud?”
The surfer-photographer blinked, then chuckled softly. The tension around the crew eased just a hair.
She gave them a smile, anyway. Breezy. Camera-friendly. Just not too polished—god forbid she come off rehearsed. But when a boom mic nearly nose-dived into the hydrangeas, the effort cracked.
Alexander noticed. Of course he did—he always did. He wasn’t just her fiancé—he was her co-conspirator in this royal pantomime. Slipping hishand into hers, he gave two quick squeezes,I see you.
She glanced at him and nearly snorted. He looked like he was posing for a portrait titledBurdened But Noble: A Study in Brooding.Perfect, except for the slight twitch in his jaw that suggested he was one deep breath away from telling everyone to go home.
“This is weird, right?” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
“Weird doesn’t begin to cover it,” Alexander murmured back, his smile tight. “We’re one soft-focus filter away from a financial services ad. Just need a voiceover about ‘partnerships that last a lifetime,’ and we’re done.”