Page 47 of Throne Off Course

“I knew she’d worry when you didn’t come home,” he added, glancing at Emilia. “It seemed like the responsible thing to do.”

Harper froze in shock for a second. “God help me, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… you’re right.”

Sebastian brightened. “Can you say that again?”

Harper tilted her head. “Don’t push it.”

Sebastian grinned. “Pushing boundaries is literally my brand.”

Harper turned to Emilia. “Ready to bounce, or do you need more time to process your life choices?”

Emilia winced, massaging her temples. “Let me finish this coffee and pretend I have any dignity left.”

Harper snorted, then pivoted to Sebastian with a sharp glare. “What exactly have you been telling people? Because I swear to God—”

Sebastian placed a hand over his chest. “Harper, I am deeply hurt by your lack of faith in me.”

Harper folded her arms, unimpressed. “Right. Because you have such a stellar track record of not stirring up chaos.”

Sebastian set down his cup with theatricality. “Relax. No rumors, no embellishments, no anonymous tips to the tabloids. You know my house operates on Las Vegas rules—what happens at Sebastian’s stays at Sebastian’s.”

“Thank God for that,” Harper muttered. “Considering half the scandals I’ve covered probably actually started at one of your parties.”

“Believe it or not, I do actually know when to keep my mouth shut. Especially when it involves friends.” Sebastian countered.

Harper arched a brow. “You expect me to believe there won’t be any gossip from the party?”

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I never said that. Everyone expects a story and the duel fits that requirement perfectly. Nothing happened other than some friendly sparring, fueled by excessive amounts of whiskey and deeply repressed aristocratic trauma.”

Harper eyed him suspiciously. “And that’s what the press is running with?”

Sebastian took a leisurely sip. “Apparently. Read the headlines yourself. People love a good brooding prince and his charmingly unhinged best friend narrative.”

Harper narrowed her eyes. “And nothing about this little sleepover party is getting out?”

Sebastian pressed a hand to his heart. “On my honor as a gentleman.”

“So no honor at all,” she muttered, then grabbed Emilia’s arm. “Come on. Before he gets any ideas.”

Sebastian raised his cup in a casual toast. “Text me when you miss me, Harper.”

“If you’re lucky, my next text will be to identify your body,” she called back over her shoulder.

Sebastian turned to Alexander, grinning. “She’s obsessed with me.”

Alexander didn’t even glance up from his phone. “She’s literally plotting your murder.”

Sebastian shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. “Hey—I liverent-free in her mind either way.”

* * *

The car sped along the road, the city blurring past the windows as Harper drove. Emilia, slouched in the passenger seat, kept sneaking glances at her, turning over a question in her mind.

She never let things go unexamined, and Harper’s ongoing vendetta against Sebastian Hawthorne was starting to feel like a puzzle she hadn’t solved yet. Finally, she broke the silence. “Alright, I have to ask.”

Harper didn’t look away from the road. “Yes, I am judging you right now.”

Emilia huffed. “Not that.” She turned to face her properly. “Why do you actually hate Sebastian so much?”