Darling

VII

Sebastian

Sebastian stood near the bar, his fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey, his gaze sweeping over the party. The event was, as usual, a well-executed affair. The suits, the clinking glasses, the smiles that never quite reached the eyes—everything in place for a night of meaningless pleasantries and backroom deals. His father's birthday, another obligation, another reason to show face in a room full of strangers, all vying for his attention with exaggerated compliments and hollow words.

He was used to it. He always had been.

The women were everywhere, draped in their designer gowns, their perfume mixing with the smoke and the whiskey in the air. They hovered around him, as they always did—drawn to him like moths to a flame. His cold, unapproachable demeanor had always been a deterrent to anyone truly daring to get close. He didn't need them, nor did he care to indulge their small talk. Still, some of them persisted, throwing flirtatious glances and subtle touches in his direction, as if he might suddenly be moved by their attention.

But he wasn't.

Not tonight.

His eyes flicked toward the group near the door as the latest round of laughter echoed through the room. It was when she stepped into his line of sight that everything seemed to slow.

Clementine.

She was impossible to ignore. Her petite frame was framed perfectly in a midnight-blue dress that clung to her curves in all the right ways. It shimmered under the lights, making her look like a goddess, untouchable and yet so close. She was small—barely reaching 5'3"—but the way she held herself, with that quiet confidence, made her seem like she belonged among the towering giants in the room. Her red hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, its color so vivid it almost looked unreal, like a flame that couldn't be contained. He wondered if anyone had ever told her that she looked like fire—beautiful and dangerous in equal measure.

Her lips were full, just the right amount of plumpness, tinted the color of rose petals. But it was her eyes that grabbed his attention most of all—those doe-like ocean-blue eyes that seemed to hold the depth of a thousand untold stories. They flicked around the room nervously, not quite able to settle on any one thing for too long, and then—almost instinctively—they met his.

For a split second, something passed between them. A tension. An unspoken acknowledgment.

She was beautiful. He could admit that. He'd seen her before, in the office, of course, but this... this was different. She was in her element, the soft lighting casting shadows that made her look even more ethereal than usual. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about her presence drew him in. It annoyed him. But it also intrigued him in a way he couldn't fully explain.

He saw her speaking to some of his employees, colleagues from the office, and it was then that his mind wandered to the earlier encounter in the garden. When his daughters had run up to her, he hadn't expected Clementine to kneel down and talk to them so easily. So effortlessly. Most people—especially people like her—tended to keep their distance from the girls. But Clementine had engaged them, not just with her words but with her presence. He saw the way they looked up at her, their small hands reaching for hers, as if she was someone they could trust.

That wasn't something he had seen often.

He hadn't been close enough to overhear their conversation, but it had been the little things—the way Clementine had knelt down to their level, her voice soft, yet clear, and how she smiled at them, genuine, not the practiced smile of someone who had an agenda. He had watched for just a moment, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.