Chapter 50 Forget the Champagne, We’re Serving Drama Tonight #2
“Well, well,” Sebastian drawled, appearing beside her with his usual grin. “I’d say that’s history in the making.”
Harper huffed a laugh. “Did he just propose? In the middle of your party?”
“Of course he did,” Sebastian replied with a smirk. “Always has to one-up me, even at my own celebration.”
“You saw the ring?”
“Queen Caroline’s. Bold choice. Historic.” Sebastian’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, come now, Sinclair. Even you have to admit, it’s romantic.”
She shot him a dry look. “It’s also messy.”
His smirk deepened. “The best things are.”
Harper rolled her eyes but didn’t move away as Sebastian leaned against the bar, far too comfortable in her space.
“You know,” he mused, “I can’t help but notice that despite your deeply rooted hatred of me, you do seem to enjoy my company.”
Harper sipped her wine. “I enjoy watching you suffer.”
“Liar,” he said, grinning. “You like me.”
She scoffed. “I tolerate you.”
Sebastian leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You tolerate me enough to sit through an entire party by my side?”
Harper narrowed her eyes. “You’re in my spot.”
He took her glass from her hand and sipping it before setting it back down. “Then move me.”
Harper stared at him, pulse kicking up slightly before she exhaled, shaking her head. “You really love pushing your luck, don’t you?”
Sebastian grinned. “With you? Every damn day.”
And Harper—against all logic, against all reason—laughed.
Sebastian chuckled, but something flickered behind his usual devil-may-care expression. A rare hesitation.
Harper caught it immediately. She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
Sebastian suddenly looked serious. “I owe you an apology.”
Harper blinked. Of all the things she expected from Sebastian Hawthorne, that was not one of them.
She let the words settle before scoffing. “For what, exactly? The years of smug superiority? The constant interference? Or—” her eyes sharpened, voice dropping, “—for killing my story?”
Sebastian didn’t flinch. He just held her gaze, unreadable. “That one.”
Harper tilted her head. “Wow. Took you long enough.”
Sebastian sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Look, Sinclair, I know you think I did it just to be a bastard—”
“Oh, I know why you did it,” she interrupted, her voice sharp. “Lord Hawthorne wanted that story buried, and you made sure it happened. Do not insult me by pretending otherwise.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “I won’t.”
Harper shook her head, fingers curling around her glass. “You’re good at playing this game, and I just got caught in your way.”
“The story was going to be killed either way. I thought it was less messy to get you out of the way.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, quietly, he said, “But I did underestimate you.”
Harper’s eyes snapped back to his, surprised by the admission.
“I thought—hell, I don’t know what I thought. That you’d get over it? That you’d take the hit and move on? But you didn’t.” His gaze flickered with something unreadable. “You got better.”
Harper held his stare, her pulse thrumming with something dangerously close to satisfaction.
“You don’t get to make that sound like a compliment,” she replied with irritation.
Sebastian smiled faintly. “It wasn’t. A journalist like you makes things infinitely more complicated for me. But then… I do like a challenge.”
She sighed. The anger was still there, simmering under her skin, but mixed with something else. Something more complicated.
“You know, you really suck at apologies,” she muttered.
He shrugged. “Okay, well for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he replied with amusement.
She took a sip, watching him over the rim of her glass. “But I will take satisfaction in the fact that Lord Hawthorne will lose his mind if he knows you are helping Alexander stage a royal rebellion.”
Sebastian agreed. “Now that is a bonus.”
Harper eyed Sebastian over the rim of her glass, her sharp gaze dissecting every smirk, every flicker of amusement, every trace of whatever was brewing between them.
He’d finally admitted it—after years of smug superiority, underhanded moves, and one very personal betrayal, he had finally said the words: I’m sorry.
And damn it, that should have been satisfying. It should have been a victory. Instead, it left her off balance, like stepping onto what she thought was solid ground, only to find it shifting beneath her.
Sebastian, for his part, looked perfectly at ease, lounging against the bar like they weren’t wading through years of unresolved tension.
Harper set her glass down with a clink. “You know, most people would actually grovel when apologizing.”
Sebastian met her gaze evenly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “And that would be terribly out of character for me.”
“God forbid you show remorse.”
“I show it in my own way.” He leaned in slightly, voice lowering. “For example, I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
Harper arched a brow. “Oh god, what kind of Faustian bargain is this?”
Sebastian laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t trade in souls, Sinclair. That’s Lord Hawthorne’s line of business.”
Harper snorted, fighting back a genuine laugh despite herself. She reached across the table to give his arm a light, almost playful shove.
“Right, because you’re the more benevolent villain.” She studied his face for a moment, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his jawline. “Okay, so what is it you want?”
Sebastian swirled his whiskey lazily, watching the golden liquid catch the light. “You love digging for the truth, Sinclair. And I—” he paused, eyes glinting—“I know exactly where the bodies are buried.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And?”
“And I think it’s time we start working together instead of against each other.” He took a slow sip of his drink. “We make a hell of a team, you know.”
Harper scoffed. “Based on what?”
“Mutually assured destruction,” he said smoothly. “You’re the only person who’s ever come close to ruining me. And, well—” he tilted his glass in her direction—“I already got in your way once. Imagine what we could do if we actually combined forces.”
Harper stared at him, searching for the angle, the trick, the inevitable Sebastian-ness of it all. “What’s in it for you?”
Sebastian smirked, but it was slower this time, more deliberate. Calculated. A quiet warning that, for all his charm, there were things even he wasn’t joking about. “There are still things my so-called father wants handled. And frankly, I’m sick of cleaning up his messes.”
Something in her chest tightened. She knew what that meant—Sebastian had spent his entire life being the perfect aristocratic son, the charming, untouchable heir to a family with far too many secrets. But Lord Hawthorne didn’t own him. Not anymore.
And Harper? Harper lived to expose men like his father.
She leaned back, considering. “You really think you can stomach working with me?”
Sebastian grinned. “Oh, I fully expect you to try to betray me at least once.”
She smirked. “At least once.”
Sebastian clinked his glass against hers. “Then we have an understanding.”
Harper looked at him with amusement, shaking her head. “This is a terrible idea.”
Sebastian downed the rest of his drink, then shot her a wink. “All the best ones are.”
Harper let out a reluctant laugh, shaking her head. For all his faults, Sebastian Hawthorne had his moments.