“Yeah, it’s just, I know you think that you’re helping, but I—I’m not you.” Sebastian stood and moved to the fireplace, his back to Harper.
Harper’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you always want to do the right thing, to do better.” Sebastian turned to face her, and there was something raw in his expression. “It’s admirable but that’s not who I am.”
“Then who are you? Do you even know?” Harper asked, her eyes narrowing as she waited for his response.
“Maybe I’m not a very nice person. Maybe I really am just as vain and selfish and lazy as people think I am,” he said.
Harper stood up, her own anger flaring. “Or maybe that’s a convenient excuse, so that you don’t have to try—”
“Just stop telling me what I should do with my life!” Sebastian’s control was fraying. “Just like Charles did. Just like everyone has, my entire bloody life.”
“That is not the same thing, and you know it,” Harper shot back. “Charles manipulated you for his own gain. I’m trying to help you see your potential—”
“Help me?” Sebastian laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Or controlme? Because from where I’m standing, it feels a lot like you can’t stand the idea that I might make choices you don’t approve of.”
They were facing each other across the library like adversaries again.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Harper said, her voice sharp. “I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to stop you from wasting everything you’ve accomplished.”
“And there it is,” Sebastian said softly, dangerously. “You think I’m wasting my life if I don’t follow your vision of what it should be.”
“You could change things, Sebastian. You have influence now, a platform—”
“That I never asked for!” The words erupted out of him. “I never wanted to be a public figure. I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to stop Charles, and now I want to be left alone.”
“Well, that’s not how the world works,” Harper fired back. “You don’t get to just opt out because it’s uncomfortable.”
“Oh, watch me.”
They stared at each other, both breathing hard, the air between them crackling with tension that was part anger, part something else entirely.
“You’re impossible,” Harper said, but her voice had gone breathless.
“So are you,” Sebastian replied.
“I should leave,” Harper said, but she didn’t move.
“You should,” he agreed, taking a step closer.
Later, neither of them would be able to say who moved first. Only that one moment they were trading barbs, the next they were colliding like the storm clouds gathering over the city. His mouth found hers, but this kiss wasn’t calculated or controlled. It was desperate and hungry and almost painful in its intensity—months of suppressed want finally breaking free.
They broke apart momentarily, breathless and disheveled.
“You’ve been driving me insane for weeks,” Sebastian murmured, his fingers ghosting along her arm. “The way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating. The little frustrated sound you make when I’m being particularly difficult.”
Harper’s breath caught. “I don’t make a sound.”
“You do.” His hand found the small of her back, pulling her against him. “A tiny huff, right here”—his thumb pressed the spot between her shoulder blades—“like you’re physically restraining yourself from strangling me.”
“The urge is sometimes overwhelming,” she managed.
His eyes darkened. “What about now?”
The question hung between them for one weighted moment. Then Harper grabbed his shirt and yanked him toward her and kissed him again. Sebastian’s hands tangled in her hair, angling her head as he deepened the kiss. Harper bit his lower lip, swallowing his groan of approval.
“I should’ve known you’d kiss argumentatively,” he said against her throat.