A reluctant smile tugged at Sebastian’s mouth. “Exactly. I’m the ghost in the royal machine. Useful when they need a fixer or a scandal magnet. Dangerous if anyone gets too close to the truth.” There was a bitterness in his voice that he rarely allowed himself to express.
Ethan was quiet for a moment, tapping the side of his glass.
Ethan studied him, then grinned. “You want to dig into Hawthorne? I’ve got rage, a VPN, and no plans. We can look at his financials, communications, anything shady. Quietly. Be ready when you need it.”
Sebastian raised a brow. “You’re volunteering for my revenge plot?”
“Someone’s gotta shine a light under that bastard’s rock. And I need a project to keep me from drunk-tweeting Maya and Jordan.”
Sebastian’s smile warmed. “Congratulations, you’re COO of Operation Burn It Down.”
Ethan raised his glass. “To inconvenient truths and ruining terrible men.”
They clinked glasses. In the bar’s dim glow, Sebastian caught the glint of Ethan’s old reckless spark.
15
Collision Course
The scent of strong coffee and the low hum of high-spec computing equipment subtly altered the usual ambiance of the palace conference room. Harper was seated at the polished mahogany table, a secure tablet displaying financial webs open on her lap. Sebastian was pacing restlessly by the tall, ornate windows, a stark contrast to the room’s formal grandeur, as he often did when a plan was forming.
“The paper trails are dense, and Hawthorne’s lawyers have been burying his dealings under layers of shell corporations for decades,” Harper was saying, tapping her pen against the tablet. “We have the initial leads, the records Sarah provided were a goldmine, but to really nail him, we need to follow the digital money. Thereallydirty money. And that’s encrypted, rerouted, and likely hidden behind tech I can’t easily crack.”
Sebastian stopped pacing. “Which is why I’ve called in a specialist.”
Harper’s eyebrows rose. “A specialist? Not another aristocratic ‘consultant’ with a conveniently flexible moral code?”
“Hardly.” A grin touched Sebastian’s lips. “This one’s an American. And his moral code is… well, it’s results-oriented.”
Right on cue, Ethan Klein entered, strolling with a low-level energy that seemed barely contained. He carried a slim, ultra-modern laptop in one hand, the other already tapping an impatient rhythm against his leg.
He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene, and Harper found herselfdoing the same with him. There was something effortlessly appealing about him—the kind of classic American boy next door looks that belonged in a college brochure. Dark brown hair with just enough curl to look naturally tousled. Warm hazel eyes that seemed to take in everything at once, and an easy confidence that suggested he was comfortable in his own skin.
When he smiled—and he was smiling now, that disarmingly genuine grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes—it was the kind of expression that probably got him out of speeding tickets and into exclusive parties with equal ease.
“So this is the command center, nice,”he said, mostly to himself, before turning his full attention to them. He walked towards Harper and extended his hand in introduction. “Ethan Klein. And you must be the one causing all the fun trouble.”
Harper met his gaze, as she shook his hand, bracing herself for whatever fresh chaos Sebastian had introduced her to. “Harper Sinclair,” she said. “And you must be one of Sebastian’s charming disasters.”
Sebastian let out a quiet sigh that went pointedly ignored by Ethan.
“Technically, I’m his friend,” he replied, unbothered. “Though I’ll admit ‘charming disaster’ has a nice ring to it.”
“Sorry,” Harper replied. “I’m just wary of Sebastian’s friends. Most of them are chaos in living form. It’s not great when you have work to do on a deadline.”
Ethan laughed. “You’re not wrong. However, I’m probably one of the exceptions, as I’ve actually worked for a living. At one point I basically lived in a basement server farm, and there was a six-month stretch where I forgot what daylight looked like.”
That tugged a reluctant smirk from her. “All right. A sense of humor and a work ethic. I take it back—you might be tolerable.”
“High praise,” Ethan said, before pivoting to the task at hand. “Now, Sebastian mentioned you’re trying to untangle Charles’s rather extensive web of offshore accounts and less-than-legal enterprises—without leaving a single trace”
“Yes,” Harper acknowledged, her expression professionally cautious. “Sebastian says you’re good with… puzzles.”
“I’m good with data no one wants found,” Ethan corrected, setting his laptop on the polished table and flipping it open. He remained standing, unable to be still, leaning over the keyboard and practically vibrating with focused intensity. The screen began to fill with lines of code and complex network diagrams. “More than that, I can make sure your communications are locked down tighter than a drum, and that any interaction with Sebastian, or anyone else involved in this, leaves zero digital footprint.”
Harper leaned forward. “How?”
“Secure, one-time encrypted channels for all comms,” Ethan explained, fingers already flying across his keyboard. “Think of it as untraceable, self-destructing whispers. And for any longer-term activity, particularly if we’re accessing certain files or records from a unique location or at unusual hours, simulate normal usage, fill any ‘weird gaps’ in his digital history, and obscure what we’re actually doing.” He glanced up at Harper, a quick, confident nod. “You’ll be a ghost, digitally invisible.”