Chapter 47: My Feet Just Said Thank You

Katherine smiled.

Again.

For the fifteenth time in five minutes.

Her cheeks were starting to cramp.

Across the table, Elena was describing the vineyard tour they took last spring in Napa, and Liam was nodding with the polite detachment of a man who definitely preferred Scotch over Chardonnay. Sebastian — of course — looked like he’d been born for brunch diplomacy: relaxed, effortless, lips curved in that maddening half-smile that only deepened with every passing minute.

Katherine, on the other hand, felt like she was sitting on a damn landmine.

Her palms were damp.

Her posture stiff.

And worst of all… her shoes.

Oh God, her shoes.

Those pointy nude heels that had seemed like a great idea at 8:00 a.m. were now executing a slow, painful assassination of her toes. Each minute felt like a new level of torture, a private hell encased in patent leather.

She shifted under the table. No use.

Still felt like death by stiletto.

She glanced at Sebastian. Perfect. Unfazed. Unbothered. His shirt probably even smelled expensive.

Katherine couldn’t take it anymore.

Enough was enough.

And so — in one swift, silent motion — she bent slightly, reached down under the table…

…and took off her shoes.

Just like that.

In the middle of conversation.

At brunch.

With Liam and Elena Ashford present.

A full-blown investor power couple.

There was a beat of silence. A glitch in the simulation.

Liam blinked. “Did you just—?”

Katherine straightened, now barefoot, positively glowing with the ecstasy of circulation returning to her toes. She grinned and raised her glass slightly.

“My feet just said thank you,” she announced cheerfully, completely unfazed.

Elena opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out.

Sebastian choked.

Actually choked.

He coughed into his wineglass, spluttered, and then dissolved into laughter — the rare kind of unguarded, helpless laugh that came from deep in the chest. The kind that said this woman is going to be the death of me.

Katherine beamed, victorious.

“Honestly,” she continued, swirling her wine like she was hosting a TED Talk on foot liberation, “I don’t know how women pretend heels are empowering. Mine are instruments of psychological warfare.”

Liam let out a surprised laugh — short, startled, but genuine.

“I suppose there’s a certain... honesty to it,” he said, eyeing the shoes now abandoned discreetly under the table like they were live grenades.

Elena still hadn’t recovered. Her brows were high enough to reach enlightenment, and her lips were parted just enough to suggest either awe or horror — possibly both.

Katherine took a slow sip of wine. Her confidence had returned with the blood flow to her toes.

Sebastian wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling as he leaned in close to her ear and murmured, “You’re insane.”

“I’m comfortable,” she whispered back, lips curling. “And slightly tipsy.”

He smirked. “Dangerous combination.”

“Try dating me.”

His brows lifted. “I am.”

She raised her glass to him like touché.

Conversation began to trickle back in — Elena, ever the diplomat, redirected with a story about their last gala, and Liam took the cue with practiced ease. But Sebastian’s hand drifted beneath the table and found Katherine’s, giving it a quiet, steady squeeze.

Her heart did a small, stupid flip.

The brunch was still formal, the table still intimidating, and she still wasn’t sure she belonged here — but right now, barefoot and buzzed, with Sebastian laughing beside her and her shoes officially declared enemies of the state…

She could almost believe she did.

---

The last of the wine had been poured, the espresso cups were nearly empty, and the air at the table had settled into something warm — almost companionable.

The men leaned back slightly, credit cards already in hand, doing the polite financial standoff dance of who-pays-first. Katherine used the moment to discreetly duck under the table and reach for her shoes.

She was halfway through the maneuver when her hand froze.

Next to her nude heels — standing primly, elegantly, with just the right amount of restraint — was another pair of shoes.

Elena’s.

Sleek, designer, probably Italian.

Also very much off her feet.

Katherine blinked. Once. Twice. Her brows slowly shot up as she collected her own heels and resurfaced, eyes wide.

As she straightened, she caught Elena’s gaze across the table.

Elena didn’t say a word.

Just tipped her glass slowly…

…and winked.

Katherine almost dropped her shoes.

Two minutes later, the Ashfords stood to leave. There were polite hugs and handshakes, some genuine laughter, and—surprisingly—a warm goodbye from Elena, who offered Katherine a surprisingly soft “We’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”

When they were gone, Sebastian reached for his blazer, sliding his arms in with that frustrating smoothness that made everything he did look like it belonged in a watch commercial.

Katherine leaned toward him, voice low, conspiratorial.

“Hey.”

He turned slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“My chaos,” she whispered, “it’s contagious.”

Sebastian frowned faintly. “What?”

She smirked, eyes dancing.

“The shoes. Elena took off her shoes under the table. I saw them. Clear as day.”

There was a pause.

Sebastian’s lips twitched.

Then twisted.

Then nearly exploded into laughter as he clamped a hand over his mouth.

“I need to get you out of here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Before the whole restaurant starts unbuttoning shirts and screaming their feelings.”

He held out his hand.

Katherine took it without hesitation.

They walked out together, hand in hand, just as a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.

And, of course — because the Universe had a sense of humor — the moment the door opened, flashes erupted from the sidewalk.

Two paparazzi. Possibly three. A girl with a phone camera already uploading to I*******m.

Katherine sighed.

Sebastian squeezed her hand.

“Smile,” he said under his breath.

She did.

But she also whispered through her teeth, “If this ends up on Page Six with the headline ‘Barefoot & In Love’, I’m setting something on fire.”

Sebastian laughed and opened the door for her.

“Let me guess,” he said as she slid inside, “while barefoot.”

“Obviously.”

---

The car door clicked shut, and the chaos of the outside world faded into the cool, quiet interior of the backseat.

Katherine let her head fall back against the leather.

“My face hurts,” she groaned.

Sebastian looked over, amused. “From smiling?”

“From fake smiling,” she clarified. “There’s a difference. These cheeks are in pain, Sebastian. I think I pulled a muscle in my dimples.”

He laughed — a real, rich sound that filled the car.

Then he leaned over and kissed her — slow, grounding, full of something gentle and private that had nothing to do with the public version of them outside.

When he pulled back, he brushed a knuckle over her flushed cheek.

“Worth it,” he murmured.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the grin.

And then — that grin changed. Shifted. Became something… dangerous.

Sebastian caught it instantly. “Why do you look like that?”

Katherine turned to him, fully facing him now on the backseat, barefoot and smug.

“Because,” she said sweetly, “you took me into your world today. Fancy brunches, legacy investors, expensive wine.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “And?”

She leaned closer, eyes gleaming.

“So now,” she purred, “I’m taking you into mine.”

There was a beat of silence.

Sebastian blinked. “What does that mean?”

“We’re going to the movies.”

His brows shot up. “The movies?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Like. A theater. With… popcorn?”

“With sticky floors, too,” she confirmed cheerfully. “And teenagers making out in the back row. Maybe even a crying baby. It’s called balance.”

Sebastian looked vaguely horrified. “What on earth would I do there?”

Katherine smirked, curling her fingers into his tie and tugging it just slightly.

“You,” she said, low and wicked, “are finally going to relax.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly unprepared for this level of civilian rebellion.

She was already pulling out her phone.

“And we’re watching something stupid,” she added. “Like really stupid. Explosions. Bad acting. Maybe sharks. No metaphors allowed.”

Sebastian dropped his head back with a groan.

“I just introduced you to Liam Ashford,” he muttered. “And this is how you repay me.”

Katherine grinned.

“Buckle up, sweetheart. We’re getting slushies.”

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