30 A Gentleman’s Token
The Sinclair mansion stretched out behind us as Sebastian walked me to my car. The garden path was immaculately maintained, lined with carefully shaped topiaries and seasonal blooms. My session had gone longer than
Bulut goed, and the golden afternoon light cast long shadows
across the manicured grounds.
I kept a professional distance from Sebastian, still mortified by my awkward measurement
mishap. The memory of my hand accidentally pressing against his abdomen made heat rise to
tightened around my portfolio as we walked in silence.
wy checks all over again.
My mortified by
***7 Jer
“I appreciate your time today, Mr. Sinclair,” I said, trying to sound composed. “I’ll have the preliminary designs ready for your mother’s review soon.”
“Sebastian,” he corrected, his deep voice soft but firm. “Remember?”
I nodded quickly, uncomfortable with the familiarity but unwilling to argue with a client of his stature. “Sebastian, then.”
We reached my car, and I fumbled in my purse for my keys, eager to escape the strange tension between us. As I searched, my fingers brushed against the folded handkerchief he had given me on that terrible day of my would–be wedding.
“Oh,” I said, pulling it out. The delicate embroidered “S.S.” in the corner caught the sunlight. “I’ve been meaning to return this to you.”
I held it out, perfectly laundered and pressed. “Thank you for your kindness that day. It meant more than you know.”
Sebastian looked at the handkerchief but made no move to take it. His expression remained unreadable, dark eyes studying my face.
“Keep it,” he said finally.
I blinked in surprise. “But it’s yours. And it looks quite expensive.”
“I have others.” He shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting beneath his tailored shirt. “Consider it a token of goodwill between us.”
My fingers closed around the soft fabric. “That’s… very generous of you.”
“Or throw it away if you prefer,” he added, his tone casual but his gaze intense. “The choice is yours.”
His response puzzled me. Why would he care so little about something that clearly held value? A handkerchief with personal initials wasn’t something one typically gave away to virtual
strangers.
“I wouldn’t throw away something so beautifully made,” I said honestly. “But I don’t understand
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30 A Gentleman’s Token
why you’d want me to have it.”
Sebastian’s lips curved slightly. “Does everything need a reason, Hazel?”
The sound of my first name on his lips sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. It sounded intimate coming from him, though I’d heard countless people say it before.
“In my experience, yes,” I replied, tucking the handkerchief back into my purse. “Especially when it comes to the actions of powerful men.”
Something flashed in his eyes – approval, perhaps? “A wise perspective.”
We stood beside my car, the conversation hovering in awkward territory. I should have simply thanked him again and left, but curiosity gnawed at me.
“May I ask you something?” I ventured.
Sebastian nodded, waiting.
“Why were you at my wedding?” The question had been plaguing me since I first recognized him in the crowd that day. “We’d never met before, and it wasn’t exactly a public event.
His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted subtly. “Coincidence.”
“Coincidence,” I repeated flatly, disbelief evident in my tone. “You just happened to be at the church where my wedding was taking place?”
“The world is full of strange connections, isn’t it?” Sebastian replied, evading a direct answer. “Sometimes people cross paths at precisely the right moment.”
His cryptic response only deepened my curiosity. A man like Sebastian Sinclair didn’t do anything without purpose. His presence at my wedding couldn’t have been random chance.
“I don’t believe in coincidences that convenient,” I said, meeting his gaze directly. “Especially not when they involve one of the most powerful men in the country appearing at exactly my lowest moment.”
Sebastian studied me for a long moment, as though weighing something in his mind. The silence stretched between us, charged with unspoken questions.
“Perhaps fate has a sense of humor,” he finally said. His voice held a note I couldn’t quite identify – something between amusement and solemnity.
I frowned, frustrated by his evasiveness. “You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you?”
“Not today.” His honesty was refreshing, even if the answer itself was unsatisfying.
I sighed, recognizing a dead end when I saw one. “Well, thank you again for the business. Your mother’s gala designs will be my top priority.”
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30 A Gentleman’s Token
As I unlocked my car door, Sebastian surprised me by stepping forward to open it fully. The gesture was old–fashioned but elegant – like something from a bygone era when chivalry was commonplace.
“One more thing, Hazel,” he said as I prepared to get in.
I paused, looking up at him. The late afternoon sun caught in his dark eyes, making them appear almost amber at the edges. For a moment, they seemed hauntingly familiar, stirring something in my memory I couldn’t quite grasp.
“Stop calling me ‘Mr. Sinclair‘ or using honorifics,” he said, his voice gentle but commanding. “Just Sebastian.”
The request was simple enough, but something in his tone suggested deeper significance. For a man clearly accustomed to formality and deference, this deliberate dismantling of barriers seemed meaningful.
“Alright… Sebastian,” I agreed cautiously. “Though it might take some getting used to.”
—
His lips curved into a genuine smile the first I’d seen from him. The transformation was striking, softening his normally severe features and revealing a glimpse of warmth beneath his controlled exterior.
“Good,” he said simply. “I look forward to working with you more closely on this project.
As I settled into my car, Sebastian closed the door with a soft click. I watched through the window as he stepped back, tall and imposing against the backdrop of his family estate. He remained standing there as I started the engine, his gaze following me as I pulled away.
In my rearview mirror, his figure grew smaller but no less commanding. Even at a distance, Sebastian Sinclair had a presence that couldn’t be diminished.
My mind raced with unanswered questions as I drove away. Why had he been at my wedding? What was behind his insistence on familiarity? And why did I feel such an inexplicable connection to someone I barely knew?
His handkerchief sat in my purse like a silent reminder of all these mysteries. A gentleman’s token, given without explanation but laden with meaning I couldn’t yet decipher.
–
One thing was becoming increasingly clear as the Sinclair mansion disappeared from view whatever game Sebastian was playing, he had been playing it long before I realized I was a participant. And despite all my caution, I found myself drawn deeper into its web with every
encounter.
“Just Sebastian,” I murmured to myself, testing the weight of his name without the buffer of formality. It felt dangerous somehow – a small intimacy that hinted at greater ones to come.
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