Chapter Seven:

Sebastian's POV

"Something caught your eye, Sebastian?" My uncle's voice reaches me a second after I start moving again.

I do not look at him immediately. I keep my pace even. My face gives him nothing. But I know exactly what he is talking about. I stopped. For the smallest fraction of a second, I stopped in the middle of a room I have walked into a thousand times in a thousand different versions and looked at one woman like everything else had gone still around her.

"No," I say.

Vincent studies me anyway. "You never stop walking for no reason." "Then I must have had one." He smiles at that, but it does not reach his eyes.

I take the glass a waiter offers me and let the cold settle into my hand. Across the room, Damien Cross still has his hand at the small of Aurora Sinclair's back. Possessive. Calm on the surface. Too calm. A man is trying to look relaxed after watching another man look at what he considers his.

It annoys me more than it should.

Lucas appears at my elbow without sound. "That is Aurora Sinclair." I turn my head just enough to look at him.

"You're certain?"

"Yes, sir. Damien Cross's plus one."

My eyes go back to her before I can stop them. She is listening to someone at the table, but not really. She is too still for that. Too careful. Like every word out of her mouth tonight is chosen before it leaves her.

Not nervous. Not eager. Not impressed.

That unsettles me more than it should, too.

"Interesting?" Vincent asks. "Not particularly."

My uncle hums under his breath. "Then why have you looked at her three times in the last thirty seconds?" I finally look at him.

He holds my gaze with that bland, patient expression he has worn for years, the one that makes weak men think he is harmless. He knows better than to press me in public, but Vincent has never entirely learned where the line is with me.

Before I answer, Cross Sr. appears with a bright smile and a hand already reaching out. "Sebastian. Glad you made it."

I shake his hand once. "I said I would." "Come meet a few people." His eyes flick briefly toward Aurora and Damien. "You know my son." I know of him. That is not the same thing.

We move toward the table, and I feel the room adjusting with us. Not because of me alone. Because people like Cross, seniors always want to be seen standing close to power. It is almost boring how predictable it is.

Almost.

Aurora looks up before we reach them. Not startled. Not flustered. Just aware. Her face stays calm, but there is something alert in her eyes now, something that feels almost like recognition.

We have never met.

That should matter more than it does.

"Sebastian, this is my son Damien," Cross senior says, though we have already nodded at one another once in passing. "And this is Aurora Sinclair."

Sinclair.

The name lands, and I do not miss the movement beside me.

Vincent goes completely still. Small thing. Easy to overlook. But I have spent my life noticing what other people miss, and my uncle just reacted to a name like it struck somewhere he thought was long buried.

I look at Aurora again.

She notices it too.

Interesting.

Damien smiles the way men smile when they want ownership to look like affection. "Aurora is a designer. Very talented."

Aurora turns her head slightly toward him. Not enough to be rude. Enough to let me see she does not like being introduced that way.

Like a thing he can present.

"Is that all I am tonight?" she asks softly.

Damien's smile tightens for one second. "Of course not."

Cross, the senior, laughs to smooth it over. Vincent says nothing. I say nothing either, but the silence I leave behind is deliberate.

Aurora looks at me then. Directly. "I heard Reed Global moved on Sinclair Fashion Group's investor portfolio this week," she says. "That was fast."

The table goes quiet.

Cross, senior, blinks. Damien's hand tightens around his drink. Vincent does not move at all now, which is somehow louder than the others reacting.

I let a beat pass before I answer. "We move fast when something is worth our attention." Her eyes hold mine. "And if it already belongs to someone else?" There it is. Not flirtation. Not small talk. Not a nervous woman trying to impress me because she finally has an audience worth performing for.

A challenge.

My grip on my glass shifts.

Damien lets out a small laugh that fools no one. "Aurora follows business news when it affects her work." "Does it?" I ask, looking only at her.

"More than some people realize."

Vincent cuts in too quickly. "Business is rarely personal, Miss Sinclair."

Aurora turns to him.

For the first time since I walked into this room, something in her expression changes. Not softness. Not fear. Something sharper. Focused. Like she has just found the one face in the room she came here to see.

"Is that true, Mr. Reed?" she asks. My uncle smiles. "I have always found it to be so."

"I haven't," she says. The room is not just quiet this time. It tightens.

Damien shifts closer to her. "Aurora." But she is still looking at Vincent. So am I.

Because my uncle's smile is still there, but one hand has tightened around his glass hard enough for his knuckles to pale. Because he reacted to her name before anyone introduced her role. Because an unknown number told me to ask him why he flinches at Sinclair, and now I am standing here watching him do exactly that.

Aurora looks back at me, and in that one glance, I get the strangest feeling of my entire night.

That she knows something.

Not generally. Not vaguely. Something specific. Something dangerous. Something that touches me, even if neither of us says it out loud in front of this table.

Damien clears his throat. "If you'll excuse us, Aurora and I still need to greet a few people."

His voice is polite. His eyes are not.

Aurora lets him guide her half a step away, then pauses and looks back at me over her shoulder. Not warm. Not inviting intent.

Then she went into the crowd with Damien at her side, and Megan materialized from nowhere to join them like she was waiting for the exact right second to step in.

I do not follow. I turn to Vincent instead.

He is already looking at his drink. "Interesting girl," I say.

"Forget her."

The answer comes too fast.

I let that sit between us, and then my uncle lifts his eyes to mine, and for the first time all night, the mask slips, just enough.

"Stay away from that girl, Sebastian," he says quietly. "The Sinclair name should have disappeared years ago."

Sebastian just watched his uncle react to Aurora's name like it belonged to a past he thought was buried. And now the one man he has never had reason to question is telling him to stay away from her.

Which means Sebastian Reed is about to do the exact opposite.