MEETING SEBASTIAN

I wake at dawn, body sore from yesterday's marathon work session, mind already racing with numbers.

Dominic is already gone. His bedroom door stands open when I pass it on my way downstairs, the bed made with military precision. Of course he's an early riser. Men like him probably consider sleep a weakness.

Mrs. Chen has coffee ready and a knowing smile. "Mr. Laurent left at five-thirty. Said he'd be at the office all day."

So much for our moment on the terrace.

I take my coffee to the library and lose myself in spreadsheets. The restructuring plan is coming together, but there are gaps. Questions about supplier contracts I can't answer without access to the company servers. I make notes, highlight sections that need Dominic's input, and try not to think about how his eyes looked last night when he recognized my work.

By noon, my vision is blurring. The numbers are starting to swim.

I need air.

The estate grounds are bigger than I realized. Manicured lawns give way to wild gardens, then a path that winds toward the cliffs. The October sun is warm on my face, the ocean breeze cutting through the heat.

I follow the path around a hedge and stop short.

Someone's in the garden. A man, younger than Dominic, sitting in front of an easel with paint-stained hands. He wears jeans and a white t-shirt splattered with color. His hair is lighter than Dominic's, almost honey-brown, and it falls into his eyes as he leans forward to add a stroke of blue to the canvas.

He looks up when my foot crunches on gravel.

"Well, hello." His smile is immediate, genuine. Nothing like Dominic's careful expressions. "You must be the mysterious bride."

I freeze. "I don't think we've met."

"Sebastian Laurent." He stands, wiping his hands on a rag that only spreads the paint around. "Dominic's younger brother. The disappointment of the family, according to Father."

He says it lightly, but something flickers in his eyes. Pain, maybe. Or old anger.

"Iris," I say, because what else can I say?

"Iris." He tests the name. "Not Felicity?"

My heart stops. "What?"

"Relax." He holds up paint-stained hands like he's calming a spooked horse. "I'm not going to tell. Honestly? I'm relieved."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." He picks up a brush, studying me with the same intensity Dominic uses, but somehow warmer. "Felicity never looked at people the way you do. Like you're actually seeing them. She looked through people, calculating what she could get from them."

The accuracy of that observation makes me sink onto a nearby bench. "How long have you known?"

"Since the wedding photos hit the society pages yesterday. Something was different." He adds a streak of white to his canvas. "The way you stood. The way you smiled, or tried to. Felicity commanded attention. You were trying to disappear into the wallpaper."

"Does Dominic know that you know?"

"Haven't talked to him. We're not exactly close." Sebastian sets down his brush and joins me on the bench. "So. Want to tell me what happened?"

I should lie. Should protect the secret. But something about Sebastian feels safe. Like he wouldn't judge even if I confessed to murder.

"She ran away. I took her place."

"Good for her." He laughs at my expression. "What? You think I liked the arrangement? I was supposed to marry her first, you know."

The words hit like a slap. "What?"

"Oh, they didn't tell you?" His smile turns bitter. "I was engaged to Felicity originally. Six months ago. Our families worked out all the details, signed all the contracts. Then I couldn't go through with it."

"Why not?"

Something shutters in his expression. "Personal reasons. Father was furious. Said I was throwing away the family's future for selfish desires." He picks at dried paint on his thumb. "So they switched the arrangement to Dominic. Poor bastard didn't even get a choice. Just Father saying this is your duty, fix what your worthless brother broke."

Guilt twists in my stomach. "Felicity must have been angry."

"Livid. She felt traded like property, which, let's be honest, she was. We all were." He looks at me. "But you? You took her place. Volunteered to be the traded property. Why?"

"To protect her. So she could be free."

"And you just gave up your freedom instead?" He shakes his head. "You're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid."

"Probably stupid."

"Probably." But his smile is kind. "Though Dominic needs someone real. Felicity never was. Every word was calculated, every gesture rehearsed. She would have destroyed him."

"He seems pretty indestructible to me."

"He wasn't always." Sebastian's voice goes quiet. "Before Mom died, he was different. Smiled more. Laughed, believe it or not. He wanted to be an architect, not run a company. Had a portfolio and everything, got accepted to Columbia for design."

I try to picture Dominic as something other than a cold CEO and fail. "What happened?"

"Mom's accident happened. Her car went off the road in a storm. She was coming back from visiting me at college." Pain flashes across his face. "Father was at a conference in London. Dominic was the one who identified the body. He was twenty-four."

My chest tightens. "That's terrible."

"He took over the company the next week. Never mentioned architecture again. Didn't cry at the funeral. Just stood there like a statue while Father fell apart." Sebastian picks up his brush again, using it to point at the ocean. "See that point out there? Mom used to paint there. Said it had the best light. Dominic hasn't been near it since she died."

The information settles over me like a weight. All of Dominic's walls, his control, his inability to trust. It's not just personality. It's armor.

"He carries all of it," Sebastian continues. "The company, Father's expectations, the memory of who he used to be. And now he's carrying a marriage to someone who isn't who she claimed to be."

"I'm trying to help him."

"I know. I can see it." He studies me again with those perceptive eyes. "That's why I'm telling you this. Because you're not like the others. You actually care."

"The others?"

"There was someone before. Isabelle. She wanted the money, the status, the ring. Loved the idea of being Mrs. Laurent." His mouth twists. "Until she found out the company was in trouble. Then she sold stories to gossip sites and disappeared with a banker from Connecticut."

Jesus. No wonder Dominic doesn't trust anyone.

"This family could use someone like you," Sebastian says, standing and stretching. "Someone honest. Someone who sees people instead of dollar signs."

"I'm literally here because of a business arrangement."

"But you're not staying because of it. Are you?" He heads back to his easel, then pauses. "My studio is in the east wing if you ever want company. Or if you need to hide from Father. He never comes near it, says art is a waste of time and money."

"Thank you." The words feel inadequate. "For telling me. For not exposing me."

"We spare children have to stick together." He picks up his brush. "And Iris? Don't let Dominic's walls fool you. He's not as cold as he pretends. He just doesn't know how to stop being afraid."

I watch him paint for another minute, the way color blooms across the canvas under his hands. Then I head back to the house, my mind spinning with new information.

Dominic had dreams once. Had a mother who loved him. Had a brother he's pushed away. Lost someone who betrayed him.

Sebastian's words echo in my head. "He's not as cold as he pretends."

But what if the pretense has become the reality? What if there's nothing warm left to find?