Page 66 of When We Ignite
Sebastian’s hands went to his hips, his stance firm. “Henny, not everything is a joke,” he said, his voice softening but still carrying weight.
Henry glanced away, his grin fading slightly. He shrugged, a little sheepishly, before letting out another huff of laughter. “Fine, got it. So, are you done?” He shot me a quick side glance. “You’re lucky it was me. Oli wanted to come get you.”
“Oli knocks,” Sebastian said tersely.
Henry rolled his eyes. “I’ll be in the car waiting,” he muttered, turning toward the door. He paused to glance back at me, a playful smile curving his lips. “Good luck, E,” he added with a wink before leaving.
The door clicked shut, and the room fell quiet. Sebastian exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair again. “We need to be smarter about this,” he said as he turned to me.
“You’re right. Sorry,” I said, nodding.
He shook his head, stepping closer. His hands found their way back into my hair as he leaned down, kissing me gently, his lips soft against mine. “Don’t apologize. I loved having you in my arms,” he murmured. “We just need to be smarter. Lock the doors.”
“I’ll remember that next time.”
He grinned, brushing another kiss over my lips.“I’ll text you later. I really have to go.” He stole a couple more kisses, his reluctance evident.
“Okay. You’re back on Saturday?” I asked softly, not wanting him to leave.
He nodded, his grin turning playful. “Keep thinking about me like you were,” he teased, giving my hair a light tug before kissing me deeply one last time. His lips lingered, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Next time, I’m getting you out of these clothes.”
A jolt shot through me—anticipation and anxiety at once.
His grin grew devilish before he turned to the door.
I watched him leave, the sound of the door closing pulling me back to reality. Sitting down in the chair, I rubbed my hands over my face, letting out a groan.
“Shit,” I muttered to the empty room, my voice muffled against my palms.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ASH
Iarrived in Midtown Manhattan at noon, the weight of the week settling on my shoulders as I passed the polished brass plaque marking the entrance to the club. Inside, the marble floors echoed with each step, a steady cadence that felt too loud in the otherwise hushed elegance of the space. Navigating through the main dining area, I finally stepped out onto the private smoking terrace.
The terrace was secluded. Comfortable, high-backed leather chairs were arranged around low, polished wooden tables, each with a small ashtray and a selection of matches.
Oliver was already there, seated in one of the chairs, a glass of sparkling water within reach. He looked up as I approached, offering a nod and a smile. I joined him, signaling the server for a whiskey before clasping his hand and pulling him into a brief hug as he stood to greet me.
“Good to see you, Ash,” he said warmly.
“Same here, Oli,” I replied, settling into the chair across from him. The server returned with my drink just as I lit a cigarette.
“Did you just get in?” Oli asked.
I nodded, rolling the whiskey glass between my fingers. The past week had been a relentless cycle of my father’s overreach—shadowing me during meetings, second-guessing decisions he claimed to have entrusted to me. Slipping away this morning without him noticing felt like a small rebellion.
“Only just,” I said. “How’s the wedding planning coming along?”
“It’s good. Char and Margaret are handling most of it,” Oliver said, his smile softening as he spoke of his fiancée. “I thought you could come with me to the tailor if you have time.” He took a sip of water, his thumb idly rubbing the rim of the glass.
“Of course I have time. Just give Ari the details, and I’ll be there,” I said with a grin. “You know I’ll take any excuse to ditch work and go shopping.”
He shook his head, laughing lightly.
“Aren’t you having a drink?” I asked, eyeing his glass pointedly.
Oli shrugged but raised his hand to order a whiskey. I arched an eyebrow at him.
