Page 39 of Throne Off Course

He laughed. “True.”

She didn’t know what to get, so Sebastian just gave her a glass of his apparently famous party punch and led her through the main entertaining space, introducing her to people with the ease of someone who had never felt out of place in his life. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him. A mixture of aristocrats, politicians, celebrities—people who belonged to the world of old money and new influence, all intertwined in ways that would never make sense to anyone outside of it.

Emilia found herself eased into conversations with surprising grace, sipping champagne, exchanging pleasantries, and realizing—against her better judgment—that she was actually enjoying herself. And then, someone pulled her onto the dance floor. It was lighthearted, playful; people moved freely,laughing, spinning, letting the music dictate their steps. Sebastian watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes alight with amusement as she danced.

“Well, well. Look at you.”

Emilia, slightly breathless, arched a brow. “What?”

“Enjoying yourself at one of my parties.”

She scoffed. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Sebastian grinned, excessively pleased with himself. “Too late.”

Before Emilia could fire back, a sultry voice interrupted, dripping with amusement.

“Sebastian, darling, if you’re done making smug observations, you owe me a dance.”

A woman—tall, dark-haired, effortlessly striking—had appeared at his side, one manicured hand trailing up his sleeve in a slow, knowing gesture. She arched a brow, expectant.

Sebastian glanced down at her hand, then back up, flashing an easy smirk. “Well, since ‘charming but insufferable’ seems to be working for me tonight, I’d hate to break the streak.”

The woman laughed, delighted, tugging him toward the dance floor. Sebastian barely resisted, turning back just long enough to shoot Emilia a parting wink before disappearing into the crowd.

Emilia let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she watched him go. Typical.

The warmth of the room suddenly felt stifling, the noise overwhelming. She needed a moment of quiet.

Without another glance toward the dance floor, she made her way through the crowd, slipping past glittering gowns and raised glasses until she found the terrace doors. A cool breezebrushed against her skin as she stepped outside, the air crisp against the remnants of champagne and laughter.

Sebastian’s townhouse boasted an incredible view of the city, sprawling out before her like a glittering sea of movement and light. The music from inside still hummed in the background, a low pulse beneath the quiet of the night.

She hadn’t planned on staying out here long—just long enough to clear her head—when she saw him. Alexander stood by the railing, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze fixed on the skyline like it might give him answers to questions he hadn’t asked yet.

For a second, she considered turning back.

But something about the loneliness that seemed to create an invisible barrier around him, even amidst a party full of people, pulled her forward.

“You really do hate these things, don’t you?” she mused, leaning against the sleek glass railing beside him.

Alexander exhaled a quiet laugh, barely turning his head. “I don’t hate them. I just fail to see the appeal of loud music and endless small talk.”

Emilia smirked. “So, in short—you hate them.”

Alexander tilted his head slightly, conceding the point. For a moment, they just stood there, the city stretching out before them, the air between them charged in a way Emilia was trying very, very hard to ignore. “So what do you do at all the diplomatic functions and balls that you have to go to?” Emilia asked, her voice light.

Alexander didn’t even hesitate. “Pray for death.”

Emilia laughed, caught off guard by the sheer dryness of his tone. “Charming.”

He gave her a sly smile. “It comes with the title.”

The wind whispered against the glass railing, carrying the sounds of the party—laughter, music, the distant hum of conversation—but out here, it felt like another world. For once, they weren’t buried in research, discussing history. For once, it was just them.

The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable but something else. Something unspoken, fragile, dangerous.

Emilia glanced sideways at him. “And yet, you’re still here at the party.”