chapter 29
Sebastian's POV:
I watched her face as she processed my question, waiting for an answer.
"We can stop," she said finally, her voice soft but firm. "But I don't need this. There's something else I want instead."
I felt my grip on her waist tighten involuntarily, curiosity warring with caution. "What is it?"
She lifted her chin slightly, meeting my eyes with unexpected directness. "I want to work," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "I want to make money by myself. And I don't want you interfering."
The request shouldn't have surprised me—not really, not after everything she'd said about needing to feel like she existed as more than my possession. But hearing it stated so plainly, so firmly, still felt like a punch to the gut.
I studied her face, taking in the determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw, the way she held herself braced as if expecting a fight. And I realized, with a sinking certainty, that I didn't have a choice here.
If I refused, we'd slide right back into the state we'd just ended. She'd retreat into that blank, distant state, and I'd lose whatever fragile ground we'd gained. But if I agreed, it would be the first step toward loosening my grip.
"Alright," I said finally, the word coming out rougher than I intended. "I won't interfere with your work."
I saw hope flare in her eyes, bright and immediate, and had to add quickly, "But only the work itself. Everything else—any social interactions that come with it—I can't promise I won't interfere with those."
It was as much honesty as I could offer.
She nodded, a genuine smile breaking across her face. "Thank you," she said, the gratitude in her voice warming something in my chest.
In her excitement, she shifted in my lap, adjusting her position, and I felt my body respond immediately to the movement.
Her eyes widened slightly as she registered the change in my breathing, the way my gaze had dropped to her mouth, and I watched color bloom across her cheeks as understanding dawned.
"Sebastian—" she started, but I was already leaning in, one hand coming up to cup her face.
My phone buzzed loudly in my pocket, shattering the moment.
I ignored it, but Elena immediately seized the opportunity, pressing her palms against my chest. "You should answer that," she said quickly, slightly breathless, using the interruption as leverage to put space between us.
The phone buzzed again, insistent, and I bit back a curse.
"Fuck," I muttered, pulling it out with every intention of telling whoever it was to go to hell. I swiped to answer without checking the caller ID. "This better be fucking important."
"Sebastian," Damian's voice came through, and there was a pause—that particular beat of silence that meant he'd just realized something. "Oh. Oh shit. Did I—am I interrupting something?"
The bastard sounded far too amused for someone who'd just cockblocked me.
"What do you want, Damian," I said flatly, not bothering to confirm or deny.
"I can call back," he offered, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "You two go ahead and finish whatever—"
"You're not calling back," I cut him off sharply, tightening my grip on Elena's waist when she tried to slide off my lap. "You've already interrupted. Say what you need to say."
There was another pause, then Damian cleared his throat. "Right. Well. I'm calling because—look, it's Isabella's birthday next week, and she specifically asked me to invite you to the party."
I felt my jaw tighten immediately.
The hesitation in his voice, the awkward phrasing—he'd been strong-armed into making this call. Isabella had been the family's pampered princess since birth, indulged and adored by everyone, and she'd somehow gotten it into her head years ago that we were meant to be together.
"No," I said immediately, not even bothering to consider it. "Tell her I'm busy."
"Sebastian, please," Damian said, and there was genuine desperation creeping into his tone now. "I'm asking as a favor. You don't have to stay long—just show up. Otherwise, she's going to make everyone's life hell for the next month."
I remained silent, my answer clear in the pause that stretched between us.
Isabella's tantrums weren't my problem, and I had no intention of encouraging her delusions by showing up to her birthday party like some performing monkey.
I could hear him take a breath before continuing, his voice taking on a more calculated edge.
"Besides, you could bring Elena. Let Isabella see you're clearly with someone. Might finally get her to give up on this ridiculous idea she has about you two. And it would be a good opportunity to get Elena out. She must be going stir-crazy cooped up in that penthouse all the time."
I glanced down at Elena, who'd clearly caught her name and was looking up at me with curious eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.
"Birthday party next week," I said, watching her face. "Damian's sister. Would you want to go?"
The way her expression immediately brightened caught me off guard. "Really? I could go?"
The eagerness in her voice made something twist in my chest—a reminder of how isolated she'd been this past year, how starved for normal social interaction.
"Fine," I said into the phone, not taking my eyes off Elena's face. "We'll come. "
"Thank God," Damian breathed out, the relief audible even through the phone. Then his voice lifted with genuine enthusiasm. "Elena! You're a saint! Thank you, Elena—"
The sound of him calling her name with such familiarity, such warmth, made irritation flare hot in my chest. I ended the call abruptly, cutting off whatever else he was about to say, and tossed the phone onto the couch with more force than necessary.
I was already regretting that day at the club when I'd let Damian, Nicholas, and Felix catch a glimpse of her. They'd pestered me relentlessly afterward, demanding to know who she was, refusing to let it go until I'd finally given them her name just to shut them up.
When I looked back down, Elena was staring at me with open curiosity, her head tilted slightly.
"Why are you angry?" she asked, then hesitated before adding quietly, "Don't you want to go to your fiancée's birthday party?"