Page 19 of Shattered Crown
"You're not. That's my point." Nalani stood, smoothing her flowing skirt. "Just be careful. Getting involved with that kid means getting involved with her father. And I've seen the news about him. He's a very intoxicating person. You don't want to get drawn into all of that."
"Sebastian doesn’t interest me in any way. My business is with Evie, not him. I won’t be seeing him at all."
"Uh-huh. So, when he walks in here to pick up his daughter, are you going to chase him out with a broom, or are you going to put on your professional smile and welcome him in?"
"You’re being absurd."
"Am I?" Nalani raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Sure. You keep telling yourself that." She headed for the door, then paused, looking back over her shoulder. "The health fair planning meeting is in twenty minutes. Try to stop thinking about Sebastian Dubois long enough to focus on vendor contracts, yeah?"
She swept out before I could respond.
The nerve of her. I was not thinking about him, nor would I be doing any thinking at all. Nalani was wrong. Whatever I felt when Sebastian Dubois's name came up, it wasn't attraction. It was irritation, repulsion, and every other vile word I couldn’t think of at that moment.
The man was cold, arrogant, and completely incapable of seeing past his own privilege. The fact that his daughter was kind and perceptive and desperately hungry for connection didn't change that.
It didn't change anything.
I pulled my laptop closer and got back to work.
6SEBASTIAN
Three weeks of this.
Three weeks of pulling up to the foundation at exactly 8:45 a.m., watching Evie disappear through those glass doors, and telling myself I'd send Stuart the next day.
I never sent Stuart.
Monday. Wednesday. Friday. The route was carved into my brain now. Left on Atlantic, right on Court, past the coffee shop with the green awning, into the small lot behind the converted warehouse. I could have done it blindfolded.
I could have delegated it. I didn't.
"Dad, you're early again."
Evie was standing a few inches from the car, frowning at me. She must have run out of the building just to scold me. I checked my watch. 3:47. Pickup was at 4:00. "Traffic was light."
Evie gave me a look that said she didn't believe me, but that she wasn't going to push. She'd been giving me that look a lot lately. Somewhere in the past three weeks, my daughter had developed the ability to see through me.
I blamed Aria.
"I'll wait in the car," I said.
"You could come inside. Aria wouldn't mind."
Not a chance in hell."I'll wait in the car."
Evie shrugged, a new gesture, casual in a way she'd never been, and headed for the door. I watched her go. The ponytail bounced. The canvas bag slung over her shoulder, stuffed with papers and projects and whatever else she'd accumulated.
I stayed in the car and waited.
The engine was off, windows cracked to let in the late afternoon air. Brooklyn in early June smelled like exhaust and hot pavement and something green—the trees, maybe, or the window boxes on the apartments above the bodega across the street. A different world from the Upper East Side. Louder. Messier. More alive.
My phone buzzed against the console. I groaned. I knew who it was. I’d been putting off work over the past few weeks to follow Evie around. Margaret had warded off meetings and clients. I knew she wouldn’t be able to do that forever.
Reluctantly, I reached for my phone and answered. "Yes."
"The Sterling documents are ready for review. Legal has flagged three clauses that need revision before we can proceed."
"Which clauses?"
