6. Dante
6
Dante
D ante stepped out of Sebastian’s sleek car, squinting at the warm glow of the upscale restaurant’s lights. The valet greeted Sebastian with an easy smile, while Dante glared at the polished exterior like it had personally insulted him.
“This the kind of place you bring all your dates?” Dante asked, his tone clipped as his gaze swept over the valet queue lined with expensive cars.
Sebastian paused mid-motion, his hand still holding the car keys. He turned to Dante, one eyebrow arching. “Depends,” he said, his smirk sharpening. “Do you want this to be a date?”
“What? No!” Dante sputtered, his face heating as he backpedaled. “That’s not—why would you even—no.”
Sebastian handed his keys over to the valet, his expression entirely too pleased. “Relax, Dante. I thought I was just treating a new client, but…I could be persuaded.”
Dante groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he followed Sebastian toward the entrance. “You’re impossible.”
“Only when it’s fun,” Sebastian replied, brushing past him with a smirk. “Now, try not to look like you’re planning to burn the place down. It’ll ruin the ambiance.”
Reluctantly, Dante followed, his boots thudding against the tiled walkway as they stepped inside. The air was cooler here, scented with something expensive that Dante couldn’t place. Polished marble floors gleamed under soft golden lights, and Dante immediately felt out of place in his worn jeans and leather jacket. The host greeted Sebastian by name, and within seconds, they were whisked toward a secluded table in the corner.
As Sebastian settled into his seat, Dante eyed the table settings with suspicion. “You’re kidding me,” he said, picking up a fork. “There’s five of these things.”
Sebastian suppressed a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it. Start from the outside and work your way in.”
Dante dropped the fork back onto the table with a huff, sinking into his chair. “This is why I don’t go to places like this. Too many rules, not enough food.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Sebastian quipped, signaling the server with an easy flick of his hand.
Dante crossed his arms, his gaze darting around the room. The other diners were dressed to the nines, their laughter quiet and polished, the kind of people who looked like they’d never worked a day in their lives. He caught Sebastian watching him and scowled. “What?”
“Nothing,” Sebastian said. “You’re just…refreshing.”
Dante didn’t bother hiding his eye roll, leaning back in his chair as the server arrived with menus. Refreshing. Sure. That was one way to put it.
Dante shifted in his seat, glaring at the menu as if it might bite him. The pristine white pages were filled with words he didn’t recognize, let alone know how to pronounce. “Is this even food?” he muttered, his finger jabbing at a particularly long description. “Why does everything have to come with foam?”
Sebastian, seated across from him with perfect ease, hid a smile behind the edge of his menu. “Foam is all the rage these days. Adds…texture.”
Dante snorted. “Texture? I don’t need my food to have special effects. Just give me something I can eat without needing a dictionary.”
“You’re in luck.” Sebastian folded his menu and set it aside. “The steak here is excellent. Minimal foam.”
Dante shot him a withering look. “You’re hilarious.”
When the server arrived, Sebastian placed their orders with effortless confidence, pronouncing each dish flawlessly. Dante grumbled his selection, frowning as the server took the menus and disappeared.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Dante said, slumping in his chair.
Sebastian rested his chin on his hand, his smirk firmly in place. “Immensely. Watching you navigate high society is proving to be the highlight of my week.”
“Glad I could help your entertainment quota,” Dante muttered, crossing his arms.
Sebastian chuckled but didn’t let the comment slide this time, gesturing to the room around them. “You should give it a chance. Though,” he added, “I’ll admit, people who enjoy this world can be…suffocating.”
Dante arched a brow. “And yet you’re still here.”
“Occupational hazard,” Sebastian said, his eyes glinting with humor. “But I’ll take your company over theirs any day. It’s refreshing.”
Dante blinked, surprised. He looked away. “You need better standards.”
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself. “I’d argue my standards are impeccable.”
Dante rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, fancy plates and tiny steaks aren’t my idea of a good time.”
“Well, if you behave like a good boy, I might let you have dessert,” Sebastian said, his gaze spearing into Dante with heat.
His mouth opened, a retort forming, but the server’s return interrupted him. The dishes were set down with precise care, and Dante eyed his plate warily. “This is a steak?” he asked, frowning. “It’s the size of a coaster.”
“It’s about quality, not quantity,” Sebastian said, picking up his knife and fork.
Dante hesitated before picking up his utensils. The steak was small but perfectly cooked, the kind of thing that made him simultaneously annoyed and impressed. To his irritation, it was good. Better than good.
“Fine,” he said after a bite. “It’s good. You win.”
Sebastian raised his glass in a mock toast. “I’ll take that as glowing praise.”
Dante ignored him, focusing on the plate as Sebastian steered their conversation. “Do you know what makes this place truly fascinating?” Sebastian asked. “It’s been here for decades. Most people think it’s just a restaurant, but the building itself is older than anything around it.”
Dante glanced up, his interest piqued despite himself. “So? It’s just a building.”
“Not just a building,” Sebastian corrected. There was a brightness in his eyes, excitement in his tone. “It was originally constructed by one of the city’s first magical architects. There are enchantments woven into the foundation—subtle ones, but they’ve kept this place standing through everything the city’s thrown at it.”
“So, it’s historic,” Dante said, chewing thoughtfully. “That why you like it?”
“In part,” Sebastian said with a slight shrug. “It reminds me of what I try to preserve in my work. Magical history, ancient laws, traditions—it’s all tied to places like this.”
His brow furrowed. “You work with old magic stuff?”
“Among other things,” Sebastian replied. “Preserving it, analyzing it, making sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. It’s fascinating, really—understanding the foundation of what built our world.”
His gaze narrowed. “What about your family? Seems like the Blackthorn name has more to do with tearing things down.”
Sebastian’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something colder in his eyes. “Family legacies can be…complicated,” he said, his tone shifting as he waved off the question. “I prefer to focus on my work.”
“Fair enough,” Dante said.
Dante let it go, though the deflection didn’t escape his notice. He filed the thought away for later, focusing instead on finishing his meal without fumbling the silverware.
***
Sebastian set down his glass, tilting his head as he regarded Dante across the table. “So,” he began, “what about you?”
Dante frowned mid-bite, fork hovering in the air. “What about me?”
“You know,” Sebastian said, gesturing with his hand. “The usual. Family, childhood, riveting anecdotes about how you ended up working with ARC.”
Dante's lips twitched, but the reaction didn’t reach his eyes. “Not much to tell,” he replied quickly, dropping his gaze to his plate. He focused on slicing into the last bite of his steak with unnecessary force. “Just your average story. Kid grows up, gets a job, the end.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t strike me as the ‘average’ anything.”
The casual comment struck a nerve, though Dante wasn’t sure why. He set his fork down with a clink, his jaw tightening. “Look, I’m not some tragic backstory waiting to be unpacked. My dad passed when I was a teenager. It’s just me and my mom now. That’s it.”
The words came out clipped, like he’d rehearsed them before. Maybe he had—Dante wasn’t the kind to dwell on the past, but the mention of his father always brought an edge to his tone. He didn’t look at Sebastian, instead reaching for his water and focusing on the cool glass against his fingers.
Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver, though he seemed to pick up on the unspoken warning. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said after a moment.
“Good,” Dante muttered, taking a long sip of water. “Because there’s nothing else to dig into.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was charged, like a taut string waiting to snap. Dante hated silences like this, where every second felt like an unspoken challenge. He glanced up, expecting Sebastian’s usual smirk, but found something quieter in its place. Thoughtful.
“For what it’s worth,” Sebastian said, his tone softer than Dante had expected, “you turned out alright.”
Dante froze, blinking at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sebastian leaned back, folding his hands loosely in his lap. “Just that you’re…unexpected.”
Dante huffed, the noise more defensive than he intended. “You’ve got a funny way of complimenting people.”
“Only when it’s deserved,” Sebastian replied. He let the topic settle, but the flicker of curiosity in his gaze lingered, and Dante could feel it like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
He shifted in his seat, suddenly restless. “What about you?” he asked, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “What’s your story? Besides being annoyingly polished and a pain in my ass.”
Sebastian’s chuckle was soft, but his expression didn’t change. “My story’s not nearly as interesting as yours, I assure you.”
Dante snorted. “Yeah, I bet. Fancy upbringing, expensive schools, doors opening for you before you even knock. Must’ve been rough.”
Sebastian’s gaze sharpened, though his tone stayed light. “Doors may open, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to decide which ones to walk through.”
It was the kind of answer Dante hated—vague, polished, and too neat to be real. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’re not great at answering questions, are you?”
“I prefer to keep people guessing,” Sebastian said, his smirk widening just enough to make Dante bristle. “It’s more fun that way.”
Dante rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he grabbed his glass again. “You’re exhausting.”
“So, I’ve been told,” Sebastian said. “But I’ve also been told I grow on people.”
“Like a fungus,” Dante shot back, though the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.
Sebastian chuckled.
Dante stabbed at the last bite of his steak, the polished fork looking out of place in his calloused hand, his mind circling back to the things Sebastian hadn’t said—and the things he had.
Across the table, Sebastian swirled his wine, posing like he belonged in a painting. Of course he did—everything about him screamed untouchable. Polished. Perfect.
“I find your straightforwardness refreshing,” Sebastian said.
His fork paused midair. He glanced up, his brow furrowing. “That supposed to be a compliment?”
“It is,” Sebastian said and set his glass down. “Most people I deal with are so careful, so calculated. You? You’re honest. Direct. It’s…different.”
His grip tightened on the fork. “Yeah, well, sorry I don’t fit into your shiny, perfect world.”
The words came out sharper than he intended, but Sebastian didn’t flinch. If anything, the guy looked more intrigued, leaning forward, his gaze steady. “Maybe not,” he said. “But that’s a good thing.”
His chest tightened, something too raw curling under his ribs. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Sebastian looked at him—like he was trying to figure out a puzzle Dante didn’t even know existed.
He pushed his chair back abruptly, the sound scraping against the quiet hum of the restaurant. “Thanks for dinner,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “But I should go.”
Sebastian straightened, his expression shifting, the smirk fading just enough to make his pulse hitch. “Dante—”
“Don’t.” Dante didn’t meet his eyes, shrugging into his jacket with quick, jerky movements. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Or whatever.”
He stalked off before Sebastian could say anything else, his boots thudding against the marble floor as he weaved through the tables. The cool night air hit him like a slap, sharp, and grounding, but it didn’t stop the blush creeping up his neck.
Goddamnit, Blackthorn , he thought, shoving his hands into his pockets as he headed toward the nearest subway station. Had to make everything feel…complicated.
Back in the restaurant, Sebastian hadn’t moved. Dante could feel his eyes on him even as he left. That quiet, unreadable look—the one that said Sebastian was trying to figure him out.
Let him try. There wasn’t much to find.