Page 38 of Throne Off Course

She was stunning, all long limbs and effortless confidence, the kind of woman who knew exactly what she was doing when she leaned in and whispered something in Sebastian’s ear. Whatever she said made him grin—slow and knowing—before he tilted his head toward her, his fingers idly tracing circles on her bare shoulder.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured, laughing softly.

“I prefer irresistible,” Sebastian corrected, taking a sip of his drink.

She leaned in and kissed him—just a quick press of lips, enough to make Sebastian’s grin turn downright wicked.

Alexander let out an exasperated sigh, already tired. It was always the same. Sebastian thrived on the game of it—on the thrill of seduction, the art of charming someone into a fleeting moment of worship. He was exceptionally good at it.

Sebastian caught Alexander watching and shot him a knowing look over the woman’s shoulder.Jealous?His expression seemed to say.

Alexander rolled his eyes. He wasn’t. Not even remotely.

He just felt… detached.

His entire life was a carefully orchestrated performance, and tonight was no different. Everyone here wanted something—status, influence, the temporary illusion of intimacy.

And suddenly, he needed air.

With a huff he turned and strode toward the terrace, pushing open the doors and stepping into the cool night. The music dulled behind him, the crisp evening air a welcome contrast to the suffocating warmth inside.

He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. The weight of expectation, of duty, of choices that weren’t his own—it was weighing down on him more than usual.

* * *

Emilia arrived a bit later feeling wildly out of place. She hadn’t arrived with Alexander—obviously. She could already imagine the headlines if they had walked in together. No, she had come separately, slipping through the sleek doors with a carefully neutral expression, doing her best to blend into the gildedscene.

And then she saw the Cheshire Cat. A massive, grinning statue of the infamous feline sat near the entrance like some unholy gatekeeper, its wide eyes gleaming under the warm lights. Emilia stopped in her tracks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Ah, you’ve met my doorman.”

Sebastian’s voice came from somewhere behind her, and a second later, he appeared at her side, hands in his pockets, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Emilia turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “Why do you own a monstrous Cheshire Cat statue?”

“Why does anyone own anything?” Sebastian shrugged. “It spoke to me.”

She scoffed. “What did it say? ‘Buy me, I’m hideous’?”

He grinned. “I’ll have you know, it was an auction find. One-of-a-kind. Just like me.”

Emilia gave him a long, skeptical look. “You have entirely too much money.”

Sebastian grinned. “Yes, and somehow I still remain devastatingly charming.”

She sighed. “I’m going to regret asking this, but… what else does one find in the House of Hawthorne?”

Sebastian brightened. “Ah, so you’d like a tour. Excellent decision.”

Before she could protest, he linked an arm through hers, steering her further into the party.

Sebastian’s townhouse was, unsurprisingly, huge—a sleek, ultra-modern masterpiece of steel, glass, and sharp angles, standing tall in the heart of the city. The kind of placedesigned to impress, all clean lines and dramatic floor-to-ceiling windows. Abstract paintings—the kind that probably cost more than most people’s yearly salaries—adorned the walls, bold splashes of color against an otherwise minimalist palette. Despite its architectural precision, it wasn’t soulless. Sebastian had made it his own.

The lighting was warm but not sterile, casting a golden hue that softened the space. The furniture—expensive, yes—was inviting, arranged with an effortlessness that suggested comfort over curation. The entire house had an air of controlled chaos, like a place where people were meant to have too much champagne, lose track of time, and wake up the next morning wondering how they’d ended up in a different wing of the house entirely.

Sebastian steered her past a grand staircase, pausing dramatically at a room filled with books and an outrageously expensive bar. “Library or liquor? Pick your poison.”

Emilia gave him a look. “Knowing you? The selection of drinks will be better than the books.”