Cecilia’s pov
I watched as Evelyn and Vance approached, and to my surprise, I felt myself tense up a little.
Evelyn always had this unsettling grace--like she knew everyone’s secrets and kept them in alphabetical order.
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She walked straight up and said, "Sebastian, I’m so sorry. That was my fault. I let it slip. But Cece was really worried when she heard you might be in danger. She insisted on coming. She was genuinely concerned."
She sold it well--calm, sincere, and deliberate. But I knew exactly what she was doing: trying to keep Sebastian from shutting down and to salvage whatever spark might still exist between us.
Sebastian’s shoulders relaxed. The anger in his face eased.
He looked at . "Really?"
"Umm..." I faltered.
Which was ridiculous. I was normally pretty good at lying.
I could fake enthusiasm for budget etings. I could charm intel out of enemy agents.
But now, with sothing that was... sort of true? I choked.
After a few painful seconds, I finally offered, "Everyone was worried."
And yeah, that was the safest sentence I could co up with that didn’t include the words "I missed you" or "Please don’t die again."
I glanced at Tang like a drowning person looking for a life raft.
Tang didn’t miss a beat. "That’s right. It wasn’t just Cecilia--Sawyer and I were both worried too, Alpha."
He shot a aningful look at Sawyer, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Sawyer sighed, the picture of reluctant solidarity. "I was... concerned."
Sebastian’s expression froze over again.
His smile vanished like a light switch flipped off.
"Ah. So this is the’Who Cares Most About Sebastian’ competition. Great."
I puffed out my cheeks slightly, resisting the urge to groan out loud.
Inside, I was ntally kicking myself.
Seriously? You can sell lies in five languages, but you can’t manage one decent sentence when it actually matters? Say sothing nice, genius! It’s free!
I opened my mouth to say sothing--anything--but my brain was buffering like a slow Wi-Fi connection.
The air thickened with awkward silence.
Across from , Vance shot a look colder than a January wind in Chicago.
"Darling, smile," Evelyn said sweetly, pinching Vance’s side hard enough to make him twitch.
Vance’s posture deflated under her grip.
To break the awkward silence, Tang jumped in. "Isn’t the gala starting soon? Wasn’t it supposed to begin at seven?"
Sebastian replied, "They’re probably waiting for everyone to arrive."
"I hope they don’t wait too long. I’m starving." Tang eyed the massive banquet table in the center of the hall like a kid at Thanksgiving.
Sawyer shot him a look. "You do realize this isn’t a dinner party, right? We’re not here for turkey and mashed potatoes."
Sebastian lightly tapped the back of Tang’s head. "Go check the kitchen. See if there’s anything to eat--and keep your eyes open."
"Yes, Alpha." Tang caught the subtext imdiately and disappeared into the crowd.
The grand hall stayed in a state of casual motion.
It wasn’t clear whether all the guests had arrived yet, and the organizer of this so-called "exchange event" was still nowhere to be seen.
The room had the air of a luxury mixer--except no one seed relaxed. People clustered in tight-knit groups or stood alone like wary predators.
Looking around, I spotted guests of every background and nationality--a truly global guest list, like sothing out of a G20 afterparty.
Sebastian didn’t bother circulating like the others. Whoever needed to speak with him would co. He had no reason to chase anyone down.
But our stillness didn’t stop others from approaching.
The elegant middle-aged woman from earlier returned, speaking with the sa polished charm.
She turned out to be the wife of a Japanese business mogul.
She said she’d co to England at a friend’s invitation and had no idea what this "exchange eting" was--just that it was supposed to be a gala.
Sebastian kept the conversation light and vague. We revealed nothing.
Her friend called her away soon after, and as she left, another group approached--one man, two won.
The man looked to be in his forties, radiating the kind of self-importance born from money and power. The won beside him wore nearly identical dresses to mine--low-cut, high-slit, and clearly ant to impress.
He leaned in like we were old friends sharing secrets. "I heard the organizer of this whole thing is actually the owner of the island and castle."
Sebastian offered a polite, shallow smile. He wasn’t buying any of it.
Sensing his disinterest, I stepped in smoothly. "Really? I’d heard it was being hosted by a business consortium--that they owned the island. I expected to see their representatives tonight. But your version’s interesting."
The man gave a shrug. "Who knows? All I know is this thing’s really just a et-and-greet. Think of it like house-hunting--we’re still in the browsing phase."
"Except this isn’t real estate. This goes both ways."
And if they’re the ones doing the choosing, you might not get a say.
The man chuckled. "Touché. Mutual pursuit, then!"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He was charming in that overly slick, yacht-club kind of way.
After so more small talk, I learned his na was Dick--an Australian business magnate with a net worth that probably needed its own accountant.
No one here was ordinary.
:30 PM.
Tang returned just as the room shifted. The organizer had finally arrived.
She entered through the main doors, flanked by several attendants.
She wore a sapphire blue gown that shimred under the chandeliers, with golden-brown hair, fair skin and razor-sharp cheekbones.
Textbook European elegance.
What caught off guard wasn’t her beauty--but her age.
She was young. Much younger than I’d expected for soone who supposedly owned a castle and hosted international power players.
And the longer I looked at her, the more sothing felt... off.
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