Chapter 18 Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
Marcus remains silent, watching me for a full thirty seconds.
I tense, waiting for the inevitable.
“You’ve been staring at that same paragraph for five minutes,” he says finally. “Either it’s brilliant,” he adds, “or you’ve finally developed feelings for someone. I’m hoping for the former.”
I don’t look up. “It’s a dense section.”
“It’s not,” he replies calmly. “I’ve read it.”
I tighten my jaw and close the file. “What do you want, Marcus?”
His gaze flicks past me—to a table a short distance away. Ivy’s table.
I can’t help but follow his gaze.
She’s laughing again, shoulders relaxed, body angled toward the man across from her like she belongs there. Like she’s comfortable.
Marcus’s gaze moves back to me. Studying me. “Who is she to you?”
I look away from his intense stare. “My neighbor.” My voice is neutral. It sounds harmless. Suburban. Like we borrow sugar and wave politely. Instead of the reality of our situation—she pops out from behind shrubs and climbs over my railing and balcony.
Marcus hums. “Neighbor, huh.” He squints at her. “Isn’t she the same one who came over—”
“Yes.” My hand curls around my laptop.
He chuckles. The sound irritates the hell out of me. “I’d like to have one that looked like her.”
I glare at him, but keep my mouth shut.
“If she ever needs a job,” Marcus continues thoughtfully, “I pay well. And I offer snacks.”
I snap my laptop shut. “We’re here to talk about the acquisition. Not my neighbor.”
“And we will,” he says easily. “But first... You don’t bring people into your life. You don’t mix work and… whatever this is.”
My eyes lift sharply. “This isn’t anything.”
Marcus doesn’t flinch. “Then why do you look like you’re deciding whether to break something?”
He’s not wrong. I’ve mentally broken at least three objects already. One of them was Aaron.
I glare at him. “Drop it,” I say.
He doesn’t.
“You’ve built an entire career on identifying risk,” Marcus continues. “So I’m curious—why are you ignoring the one sitting ten feet away from you?”
“I’m not ignoring her.”
“You’re watching her,” he corrects. “Like a man monitoring a volatile stock,” he adds. “High risk. High reward. Terrible sleep.”
My fingers curl against the edge of the table. “Marcus.”
“Sebastian,” he counters. “You don’t get rattled. Ever. And yet—”
“I said drop it.” The sharpness in my voice finally gets his attention.
He holds up his hands. “Alright. Message received.”
I open my laptop and try to focus on the acquisition.
Instead, I keep looking past him. At them.
Marcus clears his throat, and my attention goes back to my screen.
I immediately start talking business so he can’t ask anymore questions, pretending nothing is amiss. Pretending I don’t notice the smirk on his face.
He plays along, and I relax, relieved he doesn’t question me further about my neighbor.
Ivy.
Neighbor just sounds... wrong.
I glance over at them in time to hear Aaron’s next words. “I should probably get back.” His voice is easy, regretful. “Lunch rush is about to start.”
Ivy nods, standing and slipping her bag over her shoulder. “Of course.”
They turn together—and walk straight toward us.
I straighten slowly, every muscle in my body going tight. Territorial. Which is absurd, because I don’t own her.
And yet—here we are.
Ivy’s gaze flicks to me as she approaches, unreadable now. Calm and composed. Like she hasn’t just spent the entire time deliberately positioning herself where I couldn’t ignore her.
Aaron stops beside the table. Ivy does too.
For a moment, none of us speaks.
Aaron looks at me openly. Curious. Assessing.
I return the look without blinking.
He’s younger. Leaner. No edge to him. No scars I can see. He hasn’t learned what it costs to hold someone’s attention too tightly—or what happens when you lose it.
Ivy feels it, too. I know she does. The air between us goes taut, stretched thin.
“This is Sebastian,” she says lightly, like she’s introducing a friend. “We live near each other.”
Near. A word I now hate.
He nods, offering a hand. “Aaron.”
I stare at it long enough that the moment turns awkward.
I don’t shake hands with men who look too comfortable standing next to her.
Marcus shifts beside me, tension clicking into place like a safety being switched off.
Aaron doesn’t pull his hand back right away. He just studies me, a slow smile curving at the corner of his mouth. “Nice to meet you,” he says anyway.
My gaze drops briefly to his hand. Then back to his eyes. “Is it?” I ask.
The smile fades just a fraction.
Ivy watches us both, utterly still.
And I realize, with sudden clarity, that this is exactly what she wanted.
And the worst part?
It worked.