Chapter 46: The Brunch and the Spotlight

The Brunch and the Spotlight

Their table was right in the center of the sun-drenched terrace — the worst possible place to be invisible. And judging by the amount of curious glances, raised brows, and discreet camera clicks around them, invisibility was no longer an option.

Katherine stirred her mimosa with unnecessary focus, pretending not to notice how women at nearby tables were openly ogling the man across from her.

Sebastian Mason. Calm. Composed. Devastatingly handsome.

And apparently the gravitational center of the entire brunch crowd.

He sat there, legs crossed casually, black suit sharp against the pale marble table, shirt slightly unbuttoned just enough to be dangerous. Like he belonged there. Like he owned the place.

She hated how good he looked.

And worse — she hated how much everyone else noticed.

Her own outfit, a sleek black satin romper with feathered trim, which had felt daring and elegant this morning, now made her feel like a misplaced accessory. Sure, she looked bold — but bold wasn’t the same as belonging.

Sebastian took a sip of espresso, unfazed by the attention. Of course he was.

“You’re being stared at,” she muttered under her breath.

He didn’t even look up. “We both are.”

Katherine glanced around and noticed a woman in head-to-toe white Chanel eyeing Sebastian like he was brunch.

“Yeah, well… not equally.”

Finally, he glanced at her. Calm, unreadable, that little twitch of amusement behind his eyes.

“You jealous, Miss Brown?”

She nearly choked on her mimosa.

“Of her? Please. I just don’t like being devoured by strangers while I’m trying to eat overpriced avocado toast.”

His lips curved into that maddening almost-smile.

“You chose the feathers,” he said dryly, letting his gaze linger on the dramatic trim of her outfit.

She stared at him, jaw slightly open. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you.”

And just like that — there he was. In full Sebastian Mason mode. Cool, controlled, magnetic.

Katherine shifted in her seat and let out a long, silent exhale. This was going to be a long brunch.

---

Sebastian reached across the table and, without warning, took her hand.

His touch was firm, deliberate. His thumb brushed slowly across her knuckles as he said something — something about her needing to eat more, or not sleeping enough — but Katherine barely heard a word.

All she could focus on was the sudden shift in the atmosphere around them.

The chatter dimmed. Forks paused mid-air. Heads turned, tilted.

It was like someone had dimmed the entire world just to spotlight the two of them.

No, not them — him.

And the woman he had just intimately taken by the hand in public.

Oh no.

She could feel it — the rising tide of whispers, the darting eyes, the subtle pointing. A group of brunchers nearby leaned closer to each other, murmuring with unmistakable curiosity. One of them raised a phone, not-so-subtly pretending to text while clearly taking photos.

And then she saw them.

Two reporters.

Crisp jackets. iPhones at the ready. Determined faces. Making their way slowly, carefully, respectfully — but unavoidably — toward their table.

Katherine’s stomach flipped.

“Oh god,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “They’re coming.”

Sebastian didn’t flinch. His thumb was still moving lazily over her hand. He was looking at her — only at her — as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Or maybe as if he wanted to claim it in front of them.

“Let them,” he said softly.

She stared at him. “Are you insane?”

He leaned slightly closer, voice just above a whisper, deep and deliberate.

“They want a story. We’ll give them one.”

Her heart was pounding. Her fingers twitched in his grasp, but he didn’t let go.

Cameras clicked. Questions started to rise.

"Mr. Mason, is this an official —"

“Can we ask just one —"

"Miss Brown, how long have you two —"

Katherine's breath caught.

She was going to combust. Right here. In her feather-trimmed romper. At 11:26 AM.

---

Sebastian barely turned his head toward the reporters, but that small movement was enough to shift the entire atmosphere around them. His calm, composed presence rippled outward like a command — subtle but absolute.

"Yes," he said, his voice smooth and measured, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "We’re seeing each other. It’s official."

A burst of camera clicks followed like a wave breaking across the room. The muted flashes still found their way through the elegant lighting, catching the glint in Sebastian’s eyes and the faint curve of his mouth.

Katherine blinked, lips curved in a practiced smile.

The smile.

The one you wear when your entire nervous system is collapsing but you need to look like you’ve got your life together.

Inside, she was unraveling.

What the hell is happening?

She was sitting dead center at the most exclusive brunch table in all of Los Angeles. With Sebastian-freaking-Mason across from her, holding her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. And around them — eyes. Dozens of them. Hungry. Curious. Judging.

He leaned in slightly and whispered just for her.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Try breathing, though.”

She let out a strangled laugh through her nose, still smiling for the cameras.

“I am breathing,” she whispered back. “Just… not sure if I’m getting any oxygen.”

The reporters stepped closer. One of them dared to ask, “Is this a long-term relationship, Mr. Mason? Or something more recent?”

Sebastian didn’t even blink. “That depends on your definition of long-term. But I’d say… permanent sounds about right.”

There were actual gasps this time. A few forks dropped onto plates around the room.

Katherine froze, blinking at him.

Did he just —?

Before she could react, another server arrived with their next course — perfectly plated, obnoxiously delicate French cuisine.

Sebastian turned back toward the press, his tone still polite but firmer this time.

“Thank you, everyone. But I believe we’d like to finish our meal in peace.”

He said it with that smile — the one that wasn’t really a smile at all, but more of a warning in velvet.

The reporters, wisely, began to back off. Slowly. Still taking pictures. Still whispering. But the immediate threat faded.

Katherine let out the tiniest sigh and picked up her fork, hands trembling just a little.

Sebastian cut into his food as if nothing had happened.

“You okay?” he asked softly, without looking at her.

She stared at her plate, then at him.

“No,” she whispered. “But I will be.”

He finally met her eyes.

“Good,” he said. “Because this is only the beginning.”

---

They’d barely gotten through two bites of their eggs Benedict when Katherine’s hands started trembling again. She tried to steady them by focusing on the ceramic mug of coffee in front of her, but her legs were practically bouncing under the table.

Sebastian noticed — of course he did — but said nothing. Instead, he casually reached for his fork, took a sip of espresso, and glanced up at her with a slight smirk.

Calm. Composed. Infuriatingly collected.

And somehow even more attractive because of it.

Bastard.

Katherine gave a tight smile and stabbed a strawberry. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

But apparently, the Universe wasn’t done with her yet.

“Sebastian?”

A familiar male voice. Deep. Confident. And entirely too close.

Sebastian turned just slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Liam?” he said, standing halfway from his chair. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Liam Ashford. One of the legacy investors in Mason Equity Group. Mid-forties. Tailored navy jacket, perfect hair, expensive taste — and next to him, a poised, elegant woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue at Forty+.

Katherine’s stomach flipped.

She tried to stand too, failed, then sort of awkwardly half-rose with a tight, glossy smile that screamed do not embarrass yourself, do not spill anything, just smile and nod.

Sebastian shook Liam’s hand, then leaned in slightly to offer a quick cheek-kiss to the woman.

“This is Katherine Brown,” he said casually, placing a grounding hand on Katherine’s lower back as she stood frozen. “Katherine, this is Liam Ashford and his wife, Elena.”

Katherine smiled again, her throat dry.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, praying her voice didn’t crack.

Elena offered a gracious nod. “We’ve heard so much about you,” she said — and there was no malice in her tone, only mild curiosity laced with polite interest.

Which somehow made it worse.

Katherine forced a little laugh, praying it didn’t sound hysterical.

Sebastian remained perfectly still, hand still on her back, thumb rubbing once — grounding, again.

They talked for barely two minutes — polite exchanges, surface-level compliments. Liam said something about the headlines, and Sebastian just chuckled with effortless charm. Katherine had no idea how he did it.

She was drowning in self-consciousness.

She could feel the blood rushing to her ears, every hair on her body aware of where it was.

When they finally walked away, Sebastian sat down and looked at her.

“Breathe, Katie.”

“I am breathing,” she muttered, taking a too-large gulp of water.

He raised an eyebrow.

“No, you’re vibrating.”

Katherine set the glass down with a clink that was definitely too loud. She winced. “I am not vibrating,” she said, voice low. “I’m just… highly aware of everything right now.”

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Mm. Must be the strawberries.”

“Don’t,” she warned, stabbing another one with unnecessary aggression. “Do not make a joke right now.”

He held up both hands in mock surrender. “Fine. No jokes.” A beat. “But if I may offer a professional opinion—”

“Oh God.”

“—you’re terrible at brunch diplomacy.”

Katherine let out a strangled sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “I’m not built for this. For polite investor small talk and Vogue-level wives who have their lives color-coded.”

Sebastian sipped his espresso again like this was just any other Sunday and not a full-blown Katherine Brown Panic Spiral™ in real time. “You don’t have to be built for that. You’re built for…” He paused, eyes sweeping over her in a way that made her stomach tighten. “Other kinds of chaos.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That is not reassuring.”

He smiled, then leaned in, voice dipping low enough to make her toes curl. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it again, because there was no safe comeback to that.

Instead, she glanced over her shoulder to where Liam and Elena had disappeared, then back at Sebastian. “You’ve really told them about me?”

“Of course.”

That was too fast. Too easy. Too much.

Katherine blinked. “You have?”

He frowned slightly. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

She had a list. A long one. But none of the reasons came out. Instead, her fingers curled around the coffee mug again, grateful for something solid.

Sebastian’s voice softened. “Katie. They like you. I like you.”

Her heart stuttered. She hated that it stuttered. She hated that he could still throw her off balance with three syllables and a half-smile.

So she went for sarcasm. A life raft. “You like me?” she said dramatically. “God, say it louder, maybe the New York Times will pick it up.”

Sebastian just chuckled. “It’d make a great headline.”

He reached for her hand without asking, threading his fingers through hers across the table.

And this time, she didn’t pull away.

---

Katherine almost believed she was fine. Their fingers were laced together, her breathing had evened out a little, and the world didn’t feel like it was spinning violently off its axis anymore.

Until her stomach clenched.

Not metaphorically.

In a very real, very urgent, oh-no-please-not-here kind of way.

Panic surged through her chest.

She tore her gaze away from his, gulped a breath, and barely managed to mumble,

“I need to — I just — sorry —”

And then she was up, pulling her hand from his — not harshly, but like someone trying to escape the gravitational pull of their own embarrassment. She nearly tripped over the table leg, heart thundering in her ears.

“Kate —” Sebastian started, concern flickering across his face.

“I just— bathroom. Be right back,” she tossed over her shoulder, voice a brittle whisper of what it had been seconds ago.

And then she turned and walked.

Except it wasn’t quite a walk.

It was a desperate, shaky-legged shuffle.

Each step felt like a gamble — her legs were trembling so much she was sure the floor was shifting beneath her. She passed one hallway. No sign. Another turn. A staff door. Definitely not it.

Oh no oh no oh no —

She paused, standing frozen in a corridor that smelled faintly of lemons and anxiety, trying to pretend like she wasn’t absolutely lost and on the verge of gastrointestinal betrayal. Her eyes darted around.

Toilet. Just find a damn toilet, Katherine.

Meanwhile, back at the table, Sebastian hadn’t moved.

He sat there, one arm resting lazily on the back of her empty chair, espresso cup in the other hand, gaze fixed on the path she’d taken.

A slow, unreadable smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.

She really was something.

---

Sebastian watched her disappear around the corner, her gait somewhere between a power walk and a controlled collapse.

He sipped his espresso — now lukewarm — and exhaled slowly through his nose.

Katherine Brown.

There wasn’t a single calm bone in that woman’s body. Not one. She radiated intensity like the sun radiated heat — unpredictable, dangerous in large doses, but addictive as hell.

And yet…

There was something about the way she’d panicked.

Not performative. Not dramatic.

Just… raw.

Unfiltered.

Unapologetically human.

He leaned back in his chair, letting his fingers trace the rim of his cup. Most people played polished — smiled with intent, moved with purpose. Katherine stormed into rooms like a weather system and made no apologies for it.

And still, she looked terrified when Liam Ashford said her name.

Sebastian frowned slightly.

He hadn’t meant to throw her into the fire. He just…

He wanted her to belong.

To his world. To the real world he lived in — not just the sharp-edged one he curated.

And if that meant she occasionally had to flee mid-brunch in a state of barely-contained chaos?

So be it.

He’d wait.

---

Meanwhile, Katherine had never hated polished hallways more in her life.

She turned another corner and finally spotted the blessed sign: RESTROOMS in elegant brass lettering. She surged forward like a soldier storming the beach.

And immediately slammed into another woman rounding the same corner.

“Oh God —! I’m so sorry!” Katherine yelped, staggering back, hands flailing for balance. “I didn’t — I wasn’t — I’m just trying to find the — I didn’t mean —”

The woman blinked at her, startled but composed, clutching a handbag that probably cost more than Katherine’s monthly rent.

“It’s fine,” she said smoothly, taking a small step around her. “It’s… clearly urgent.”

Katherine gave a strangled laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Just a little.” The woman offered a faint smile and swept past, heels clicking in perfectly spaced confidence.

Katherine, on the other hand, bolted into the restroom like it was a panic room and slammed the stall door shut behind her.

Her heart pounded. Her cheeks were on fire. She slumped back against the door and exhaled.

“What. The. Hell. Was. That.”

This wasn’t just stress.

This was brunch-induced existential combustion.

---

Ten minutes.

That’s how long it took her to breathe, splash cold water on her face, and convince herself not to crawl out the bathroom window.

And yet, as Katherine rounded the final corner back toward their table, her entire body froze.

No.

No no no.

Because seated at their table — their table — were Liam and Elena Ashford.

Her stomach plummeted like an elevator with a cut cable.

Why?

Why was the Universe like this? Had she done something in a past life? Was this karma for stealing lip gloss in seventh grade?

She didn’t know.

All she knew was that her legs had turned to wood, and she was now walking toward the table like a malfunctioning robot.

Liam looked up first, his expression softening. “Ah, Katherine,” he said warmly, standing slightly and gesturing to her seat. “We decided to join you, hope you don’t mind.”

Katherine’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Just the sound of screaming somewhere inside her own brain.

Sebastian, of course, looked like he’d been expecting her the whole time.

Cool. At ease.

He pushed her chair out for her like the world wasn’t burning behind her eyes.

She forced a smile.

Walked forward.

Sat down.

And then, very gracefully, very discreetly, leaned toward Sebastian and whispered sweetly in his ear —

“I’m going to kill you. And I need wine. So much wine.”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, entirely unbothered.

Then he turned to the server who’d just approached and said,

“Another bottle of the Pinot Noir, please.”

He pressed a kiss to Katherine’s cheek, lips lingering a beat longer than necessary.

She smiled. Stiffly. Dangerously.

And then the conversation began.

Elena complimented the café’s interiors. Liam commented on the market. Katherine nodded and smiled in the appropriate places, but all she could think was:

Smile. Sip. Don’t faint. Don’t stab your boyfriend with a dessert fork. Smile again.

And when the wine finally arrived —

She drank it like it was oxygen.

---