186 A Calculated Gesture
186 A Calculated Gesture
My spine stiffened at the deliberate mention. “Sebastian is busy with family matters tonight.”
I watched him walk to his own car before sliding into mine. The heater struggled against the chill as I sat there, not yet starting the engine. My mind was racing, calculating the implications of Elliot’s little maneuver.
“Hazel?” Sebastian’s voice came through, warm and surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“The gentleman who just stopped by your table,” she replied. “Mr. Thorne left his card and took care of everything”
“Sebastian,” I began, my voice steadier than I expected. “I just ran into Elliot Thorne and thought I should call you before he does.”
The snow was piling up on my windshield now, blurring the world outside. Just like my emotions were blurring my usually clear judgment.
Before I could change my mind, I picked up the phone again. Three deep breaths later, I pressed call.
I nodded, reaching for my purse. “Let me take care of the bill.”
But calling felt like admitting I’d done something wrong–which I hadn’t. Quentin was my employee. We’d had a professional dinner after working all weekend.
“That was calculated,” I corrected once the server left, my voice low. “Elliot just ensured I’ll have to contact Sebastian to explain this evening.”
I dropped the phone into my lap with a frustrated sigh. I’d never been in this position before–caring what someone thought about my actions, feeling accountable to someone who wasn’t even officially in my life.
But the thought of him sharing a cozy dinner with another woman made my jaw clench.
“Business dinner,” he replied, gesturing vaguely toward the back of the restaurant. “Just wrapped up.” His gaze settled on Quentin. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Elliot,” I said, maintaining my composure despite the unexpected encounter. “What
186 A Calculated Gostura
brings you here?”
I cleared my throat. “Elliot Thorne, this is Quentin Young, the new general manager for Evening Gala. Quentin, Elliot is…”
“That was an excellent meal, Quentin said as we finished the last of our hot pot dinner. “Thank you for joining me.
An awkward silence followed. Elliot made no move to leave, his expression pleasantly neutral yet somehow probing.
Quentin shook his hand firmly. “Likewise.”
With Alistair, things had been different. Six years of history had established clear expectations. But with Sebastian, everything felt new and uncertain. The rules weren’t defined.
Understanding dawned on Quentin’s face. “I see. Office politics extend beyond the
office.”
“Thank you for a productive weekend,” he said as we reached my vehicle. “I look forward to implementing our plans tomorrow.”
“The food was impressive,” I agreed, setting down my chopsticks. “Good recommendation.”
“Absolutely not,” Quentin protested. “Let me split it at least.”
## Hazel’s POV
On the fourth ring, just as I was preparing to hang up, the line connected.
“Ah, yes. The Sinclair Sunday dinners.” Elliot nodded knowingly. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your evening. Just wanted to say hello,”
I pulled out my phone, staring at Sebastian’s contact information. My thumb hovered over the call button.
The last option was tempting but risky. Elliot would almost certainly mention seeing me. If Sebastian heard about my dinner with Quentin from someone else, it would look like I was hiding something
The phone rang once, twice, three times. With each ring, my heart beat faster. What if
186 A Calculated Gostura
he didn’t answer? What if he did?
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”
I turned to find Elliot Thorne standing beside our table, his tailored coat dusted with snowflakes. His eyes held unmistakable curiosity as they darted between Quentin and
- me.
Snow had begun falling outside the restaurant windows, painting the city in a soft white blanket. The warm glow of the restaurant contrasted with the wintry scene beyond the glass. It felt cozy, almost intimate.
“A friend of Sebastian’s,” Elliot finished for me, extending his hand to Quentin. “A pleasure.”
The question
te uns
Why should Lcare who Sebastian dined with? We
weren’t officially together. He had no claim on me, nor I on him.
I took another deep breath, my fingers tightening around the phone. “About seeing me having dinner with Quentin Young, my new general manager.
He nodded, stepping back. “Goodnight, Hazel.”
I started the car, the engine’s purr filling the silence. Still, I didn’t put it in drive. The phone sat heavy in my lap, a decision waiting to be made.
“We should probably get going before the roads get worse,” Quentin suggested, glancing at the intensifying snowfall.
Sebastian wasn’t the jealous type–at least, I didn’t think he was. But we were still navigating the undefined waters of whatever was developing between us. Elliot had just thrown a stone into those waters, creating ripples [couldn’t ignore.
Pride told me to ignore the situation. Self–preservation warned me not to appear too eager. But something else–something that felt uncomfortably like vulnerability- pushed me toward honesty.
Before either of us could flag down our server, a familiar voice interrupted our debate.
This was exactly what he wanted–to force my hand, to test my intentions toward his friend. It was manipulative but effective. Sebastian had powerful allies who clearly
looked out for his interests.
186 A Calculated Gesture
“Snowy evening to be out,” he remarked casually. “I’m surprised you’re not spending it with Sebastian.”
“Damn it, Elliot,” I whispered, fogging up the windshield with my breath.
Sebastian had been nothing but straight forward with me. He deserved the same in
return.
Quentin looked surprised. “That was… generous of him.”
Our server approached with the check. “Excuse me, Ms. Shaw, but your bill has already been settled.
My phone buzzed, making me jump. For a wild moment, I thought it might be
Sebastian somehow sensing my dilemma. But it was just a weather alert warning about road conditions.
What would I even say? “Hey, just letting you know I had dinner with a man but it wasn’t romantic“? That sounded defensive and suspicious.
“Same here,” I replied, shivering slightly in the cold. “Drive safely, Quentin.”
Yet something uncomfortable twisted in my stomach. If Sebastian had been dining alone with an attractive female employee, wouldn’t I want to know?
As Elliot walked away, I exhaled slowly, suddenly aware I’d been holding my breath. Quentin gave me a questioning look but was tactful enough not to pry.
“By whom?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
He stepped back with a polite smile. “Good night, Hazel. Mr. Young.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered, gathering my things.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. Should I call Sebastian? Text him? Pretend nothing happened?
But saying nothing felt worse.
There was a brief pause before Sebastian spoke again, his voice careful but curious. “What would Elliot be calling me about?”
The genuine concern in his tone melted something inside me. This wasn’t a game to him. And I suddenly realized I didn’t want it to be a game for me either.
186 A Calculated Gesture
Outside, the snow was falling faster now, streetlights casting golden halos through the white flurries. Quentin insisted on walking me to my car despite my protests.
