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“Oh no?” he quipped. “Then what did you—”
Extending one finger, I pointed at the man who pulled out the empty chair at the opposite side of the table.
“I came here forhim.”
Fifty-Four
JENNA
Some people simply come with a presence, or aura. They exude such a natural charisma that affects everyone and everything around them, the way gravity exerts invisible pushes and pulls between all things.
In those strictly celestial terms, Sebastian Strong was a supergiant star.
Our heads turned in his direction as he pulled the chair out, but that wasn’t all. Roughly half the restaurant had followed him with their gaze, unable to look away from his simple act of striding from the front door to the table.
Elijah stiffened visibly at the sight of his father. He went ghost-white, froze completely for a second or two, then nearly knocked his own chair clear across the room as he shot up to embrace him.
“Father!”
Sebastian Strong more endured his son’s hug than he actually returned it. He grunted a gruff hello without really looking Elijah’s way, but that’s because his eyes were locked on me.
“Ms. Lamont.”
I stood and extended my hand. Sebastian Strong shook it politely.
“You know, you used to call me Jenna.”
“And you used to date my son,” he shot back grimly. He scanned us quickly then raised an eyebrow. “Or is that something that—”
“Oh no,” I cut in. “Usedtostill very much applies.”
Sebastian nodded, sighed, then sat down without flourish. His immaculately-tailored suit put his cuffs at exactly the right wrist-length. Somehow his hands were already folded in front of him.
“Alright, Jenna…” the man said, his steel-grey eyes burning coldly into mine. “Please tell me why you asked me here.”
Elijah’s look of confusion twisted into an expression of complete and utter dismay. I could’ve enjoyed it a lot more if I didn’t have to maintain his father’s steely gaze.
“YOU brought him here?”
Sebastian said nothing. I said nothing. It was like Elijah wasn’t even there.
“W—Why would you even contact him?” Elijah sputtered. “What could you possibly want? How could you—”
“Elijah?”
His father’s voice was stern, but low. He didn’t raise it. He didn’t have to. He also didn’t have to tell Elijah to shut up. It just happened.
“Please Jenna,” Sebastian Strong said. “Continue.”
I swallowed hard, intimidated by the presence of this man who shouldn’t really intimidate me. I was nothing to him, really. I owed him nothing in return.
Still, I could sense that connection we’d made so long ago. That invisible arrangement that bound us in measures of respect and admiration, perhaps in silent solidarity with knowing just how much of a fuckup his son — and my then boyfriend — truly was.
“Well Mr. Strong—”
“Sebastian,” the man smirked.
I tilted my head appreciatively. “Sebastian, then. Thanks so much for coming.”
