chapter 34
Sebastian's POV:
Every second away from Elena felt like an eternity stretched on a rack, and having to navigate the tedious pleasantries of politicians and businessmen who couldn't read the room only amplified my growing restlessness.
I glanced at my watch, noting that enough time had passed and I could reasonably return to Elena's side.
I had just managed to extricate myself from the cluster of London's financial elite and was making my way to find Elena when Lucas stepped directly into my path, crystal tumbler in hand.
Lucas Ashton—the bastard to the Ashton family and Vivienne's devoted defender. Given the recent revelations about his precious Vivienne's activities, I could well imagine what had brought him seeking me out tonight.
"Sebastian," he said, and there was something in his voice—a careful formality that immediately set my teeth on edge. "You've been rather difficult to pin down lately."
Irritation spiked through me at being intercepted on my way to find Elena.
"My time is valuable, Lucas," I replied, my tone carrying just enough ice to remind him of the vast gulf that separated us in terms of influence and reach.
A flash of poorly suppressed annoyance flickered across his features. "Well, if you're spending all that valuable time bringing your little companion to your ex-fiancée's birthday celebration, then I suppose it would be quite precious indeed."
My expression turned glacial as I studied his face, noting the deliberate provocation in his tone.
"Bastard or not," I said, my voice dropping to a silky whisper that had made grown men reconsider their life choices, "one would think you'd have learned some semblance of proper manners by now."
The barb hit its mark. I could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, the slight tightening around his eyes. But rather than retreat as a wiser man would have done, Lucas seemed to abandon all pretense at pleasantries.
"What would it take?" he asked, cutting straight to the heart of whatever had brought him here. "What would it take for you to leave Vivienne alone?"
After Vivienne's confrontation with Elena at the restaurant, I'd had my people conduct a thorough investigation into the Sterling family's activities. They'd uncovered the anonymous forum posts that had attempted to destroy Elena's reputation, posts that had been traced back to IP addresses associated with university computers that Vivienne had access to.
But more intriguingly, they'd also discovered Elena's own anonymous retaliation—those damning photographs and videos that had brought Vivienne's carefully constructed facade crashing down.
The discovery had filled me with a fierce pride. My little bird had found her claws after all. Of course, I'd been unable to resist adding fuel to that particular fire, ensuring the scandal reached the right people, the right publications. And naturally, I'd had her digital footprints scrubbed clean afterward.
If Lucas's investigation had led him to my doorstep rather than hers, it meant my people had done their job well.
"If you're here to beg," I said, studying his face with the detached interest, "you should at least have the courtesy to assume the proper position. "
Lucas's jaw tightened, but he pressed on with grim determination. "Don't you think those posts were rather cruel for any woman to endure? Regardless of whatever you think she's done?"
I smiled, and from the way Lucas's face paled, it wasn't a pleasant expression.
"The truth has a way of surfacing, doesn't it? Particularly when someone has been living so far beyond their means, morally speaking. Besides," I added, my voice taking on a mocking edge, "surely you're not going to stand there and tell me that those images were somehow misleading? That your precious Vivienne wasn't exactly where she appeared to be, doing exactly what she appeared to be doing?"
The defeat in his expression was answer enough. Lucas had seen the evidence, had probably confronted Vivienne about it, and had been given some carefully crafted explanation that his heart wanted to believe.
"At least Vivienne isn't indiscreet," he said with a cold laugh that held no humor whatsoever. "She doesn't throw herself at other men in public."
My eyebrows drew together sharply at the insinuation, a dangerous stillness settling over me. "What exactly are you implying?"
Lucas's smile turned sharp and ugly. "If you don't believe me," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I suggest you check the terrace."
He turned and walked away before I could respond, melting back into the crowd.
I stood there for a long moment, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, fighting every instinct that was screaming at me to follow his suggestion.
The rational response would be to ignore his provocation entirely, to find Elena wherever she was in this sprawling mansion and extract us both from what had clearly become a hostile environment.
But even as I told myself this, even as I recognized the trap for what it was, I found my feet carrying me toward the French doors that led to the covered terrace.
Because buried beneath all my logical reasoning was a darker truth—Elena could never genuinely choose to stay with someone like me.
The terrace was dimly lit by strategically placed lanterns, their warm glow creating intimate pools of light among the shadows.
And there, silhouetted against the night sky, I saw two figures locked in an embrace that made my blood turn to ice in my veins.
When Elena finally looked up, and our eyes met across the distance, her face went utterly white. The man turned to follow her gaze, and I immediately recognized the familiar profile—Adrian, my own nephew.
"Sebastian," Elena breathed, and there was something in her voice—fear, perhaps, or resignation.
"How touching," I said finally, a cold smile curving my lips as my voice carried clearly across the terrace. "Am I interrupting something?"