She leaned in, just enough for him to catch her scent. Clean, cold, efficient.
“And?”
His voice took on a harder edge. “And I’m feeding him exactly what he wants,” he said. “While digging up the story he really doesn’t want told.”
“You’re playing him,” she said, voice quiet.
Harper leaned back, studying him in that way that always made him feel like a particularly slippery puzzle piece she hadn’t quite placed yet.
“What’s the endgame, then? Leaks, counter-leaks? That’s fine, but what’s the story you’re digging for?”
He hesitated. Just a beat. Not because he didn’t know, but because saying it out loud made it real. “Money laundering. Influence peddling. Bribes in the form of art donations. The Foundation’s a front.”
Harper froze for a moment, considering the implications. “That’s not just corruption,” she said quietly. “That’s enough to take down half the Cabinet.”
“Exactly,” he replied.
She exhaled, folded her arms. “I mean, I knew it was bad but you need to be careful, Sebastian. If you go too far—”
“Please.” His tone turned glacial. “I’m just playing the game he taught me. And I’m better at it than he thinks.”
The silence between them tightened. Harper didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Sebastian rarely showed this side of himself, the one Charles built. The one he kept hidden under charm and banter. Her stare didn’t flinch. Hehated how much that mattered.
“Relax, Sinclair,” he said, reverting back to his usual practiced indifference. “I’m still on your side.”
“I know,” she said dryly. “You just sound like you’re auditioning for a Bond villain.”
“Really? A Bond villain. I was going for more of a morally grey antihero.” Sebastian leaned back, his arms folded, carefully watching to see what she’d do next.
She snapped her laptop shut like it had insulted her ancestors. Heads turned. Harper had the good grace to at least look apologetic.
And just like that, they were back to their regularly scheduled mutual loathing.
He pressed a hand to his chest. “You don’t trust me?”
“Sebastian,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes. “I trust you about as far as I can throw you. Which isn’t far, given that you’re six-foot something and carry the dead weight of aristocratic entitlement.”
He laughed and he was surprised when he realized it was genuine. “Come on, admit it,” he said, chin in hand. “You’d miss me if I vanished.”
“Not really. I’d get more work done. And sleep better.” Her response was too fast. Too dry. Like even she didn’t fully buy it.
“But who would you threaten with sporks and righteous indignation?” Sebastian asked as he leaned back in his chair.
“I’m sure I could find someone,” she replied.
“You know,” he said, elbow on the table now, watching her closely, “I think this is your version of flirting.”
“This?” She gestured vaguely between them. “This is tolerating your existence out of civic responsibility.”
“Technically, you’re the one who invited me,” Sebastian pointed out. “I was just sitting at home, being scandalous in peace.”
“You don’t do anything in peace,” Harper replied, rising from her chair and collecting her bag. “You stir the pot, light the match, and then act surprised when something catches fire.”
“What can I say? It’s a gift.”
She stood, meeting his gaze evenly. She was tall, taller than most womenhe knew, almost eye-level with him in those boots, but that never seemed to bother either of them. If anything, he liked it. She met his gaze. That’s what he liked. She never backed down, never let him get away with his usual nonsense.
For a second, he thought she might offer something, an apology, a truth, a warning. Instead, she just studied him. Cool, unreadable.