The evening progressed pleasantly as Sebastian and I finished our desserts—a delicate panna cotta for me and dark chocolate soufflé for him. The restaurant's ambiance wrapped around us like a cocoon of luxury and privacy. Despite the high-profile clientele scattered throughout the dining room, no one approached our secluded corner.
"So," I said, setting my spoon down, "you really removed all those news stories just to protect me from unwanted attention?"
Sebastian's expression remained composed, but something flickered in his eyes. "Your brand is building momentum. Evening Gala doesn't need tabloid speculation interfering with its trajectory."
"That's... surprisingly thoughtful." I studied him across the table. "Most businessmen would consider the publicity beneficial, regardless of context."
"I'm not most businessmen."
I couldn't argue with that. Sebastian Sinclair operated on a different level entirely—three hundred million dollars for a bracelet kind of different.
