Chapter 3: Brilliant Bastard

Sebastian listened to her polite, professional dismissal, and a slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. It was a smile Liliana knew all too well. It wasn't a smile of amusement. It was the smile of a predator who had just seen its prey walk directly into a cage and then politely ask for the door to be opened.

“Of course, Ms. Dawnson,” he said, his voice a low, smooth purr that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. “You are, as always, free to do as you please.”

He stood up, the picture of magnanimous agreement. “I would never dream of forcing you into an uncomfortable working relationship.”

Liliana eyed him with suspicion. This was too easy. The Sebastian she knew didn't give up. He conquered. "Good," she said, snapping her portfolio shut. "Then we understand each other. I'll inform the executives that my services are limited to their portion of the project only."

"You could do that," Sebastian agreed, walking slowly around the table toward the bar cart in the corner of the room. He moved with a confident, fluid grace that she hated herself for still finding attractive. "However," he continued, pouring a glass of water, "you might want to read the fine print of the tender agreement your legal team signed last week."

He turned, leaning back against the cart, a silent king in his castle. "There's a fascinating little clause on page twelve. The 'Unified Partnership' clause. It stipulates that upon acceptance of the proposal, your firm, Dawnson Events, agrees to serve the project as a whole, under the joint direction of both Blackwood and Grandland Holdings."

Liliana froze, her hand on her bag. "That's... that's not standard."

"No," he said, taking a slow sip of water, his eyes watching her over the rim of the glass. "It's not. It was a specific request from my end. A prerequisite for my investment."

The trap was sprung. It was brilliant, ruthless, and so undeniably him. To back out now wouldn't just be unprofessional; it would be a breach of contract that would bury her company in legal fees and destroy the reputation she had spent five years building.

"You bastard," she breathed, the words escaping before she could stop them.

"I prefer 'thorough'," he replied, the ghost of a smile returning. "The same word you used earlier, I believe."

He set the glass down and began to walk toward her, closing the distance between them. The vast boardroom suddenly felt small, intimate, and suffocating.

"You don't have to look so defeated, Liliana," he murmured as he stopped just a few feet in front of her. "This will be good for you. For us."

"There is no 'us'," she shot back, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and a fear she refused to acknowledge. "There is a client, and there is a contractor. That is all."

"Is it?" he challenged, his voice dropping lower, becoming a husky, intimate sound that vibrated through her. He took another step. He was so close now she could smell the faint, familiar scent of his sandalwood and bergamot cologne, the scent of their past, of their bedroom. Her heart began a frantic, panicked rhythm against her ribs.

"This isn't business, Sebastian," she hissed, forcing herself to stand her ground. "This is a vendetta. This is you punishing me for leaving."

"Punishing you?" he whispered, now so close his jacket almost brushed her blouse. He reached out, not to touch her, but to gently pluck a stray thread from her sleeve. The brief, electric contact of his fingers against the fabric sent a jolt through her arm. "My dear Liliana, if I wanted to punish you, you'd know it."

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. The air between them crackled, thick with five years of unspoken words, of unresolved anger, of a chemistry that time had clearly failed to extinguish.

"No," he continued, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that was almost a caress. "This isn't punishment. This is a correction. An error I made five years ago that I am now, finally, in a position to rectify."

"I am not an 'error' to be rectified!" she retorted, her breath catching in her throat.

"No," he agreed, his eyes lifting back to hers, dark and intense. "You were the only thing I ever did right. Letting you walk away... that was the error."

Her carefully constructed walls were beginning to crack. His sincerity was a more dangerous weapon than his anger had ever been. She had prepared for a fight, not for a confession.

"It's too late," she whispered, the words more for herself than for him.

"Is it?" he murmured. He lifted his hand, his knuckles gently grazing her jawline, a touch so light it was almost imaginary, yet it set her skin on fire. "You feel this, don't you? This... static. It's still here. It never left."

She couldn't speak. She could only stare into his eyes, lost in the storm she saw there. He was right. She did feel it. It was a low, humming current that had been dormant for five years, now roaring back to life.

He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath, could see the tiny flecks of silver in his grey eyes. Her entire body was screaming at her to run, to push him away, to scream. But she was frozen, mesmerized by the man who was both her greatest weakness and her deepest wound.

"I won't let you run again, Liliana," he whispered against her lips, a promise and a threat all in one. "Not this time."

His gaze was hypnotic, drawing her in. He was going to kiss her. Here, in this cold, corporate boardroom, he was going to kiss her and shatter the fragile peace she had fought so hard to build. And the most terrifying part? A traitorous, desperate part of her wanted him to.

"You will take this job," he murmured, his voice a velvet growl. "You will work with me. You will be in my office, in my meetings, in my life. And every single day..." He paused, his lips brushing hers, a ghost of a kiss that sent a wave of heat through her entire body.

"...you will remember every reason you ever said 'yes' to me in the first place."

***