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CHAPTER 17

S ebastian’s penthouse felt different with Tessa in it.

The sterile perfection he’d once taken pride in—the gleaming surfaces, the carefully curated art, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking London—seemed less impressive now and more like what it actually was: expensive but empty. Tessa moved through his space with curious appreciation rather than intimidation, pausing to examine a sculpture here or comment on the view there, making his home feel lived-in for the first time in years.

“This is beautiful,” she said, running her good hand along the edge of his mahogany dining table where he’d spread out boxes of research files. “But it doesn’t feel like you at all.”

“What do you mean?” Sebastian asked, though he suspected he knew.

“It’s too perfect. Too controlled.” She gestured around the immaculate space. “Where’s the evidence that someone actually lives here? Where are the books left open, the coffee rings on tables, the comfortable mess of a real life?”

Sebastian paused in arranging folders, struck by her observation. “I suppose I never thought about making it feel like home. It was just...functional.”

“Well,” Tessa said, settling into the chair beside him with the easy familiarity that had developed between them since Friday night, “maybe that can change.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “What are you going to do, mess up my house?”

“Oh yes,” Tessa laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I certainly am. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

“I’m terrified,” Sebastian said solemnly, though his smile gave him away. “Should I hide the good china?”

“Definitely. And maybe invest in some coasters that actually get used.”

Sebastian pulled out his phone with mock seriousness. “I should document this threat for posterity. Evidence of premeditated house-messing.”

“You wouldn’t dare—“ Tessa started, but he was already raising the phone.

“Smile,” he said, capturing her mid-laugh, her good hand raised in protest, her hair catching the afternoon light streaming through his windows.

When he looked at the result, Sebastian felt something settle deep in his chest. She was radiant—eyes bright with humor, completely unselfconscious, beautiful in a way that made his breath catch.

“Let me see,” Tessa demanded, reaching for the phone.

“It’s perfect,” Sebastian said softly, showing her the screen. “You’re photogenic too, apparently.”

Tessa studied the image with surprise. “I actually look...happy.”

“You are happy,” Sebastian observed. “At least, I hope you are.”

“I am,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Remarkably so.”

The moment stretched between them, weighted with feeling, until Sebastian cleared his throat and set the phone aside.

“There. Now I have evidence that someone with personality has been in my sterile apartment.”

The casual suggestion that she might be part of that change sent warmth spreading through his chest. This was what he’d wanted without realizing it—someone to make his carefully ordered world feel worth living in.

They’d been working through his research for the better part of Sunday afternoon, methodically examining every document, every photograph, every scrap of historical evidence his professional researchers had uncovered. Sebastian had organized everything with his usual precision: wartime employment records in one pile, newspaper clippings in another, official government documents in a third.

“Anything?” he asked as Tessa finished examining a stack of photographs from various London establishments during the 1940s.

She shook her head, setting the pictures aside with obvious frustration. “Nothing that jumps out. Though I have to say, seeing all these images of wartime London is fascinating. The resilience of people during the Blitz was extraordinary.”

Sebastian nodded, though his attention was divided between her commentary and his growing concern that Malcolm’s cryptic message might have been wrong. They’d been at this for hours, and nothing—absolutely nothing—had triggered any sense of recognition.

“Maybe the twin misunderstood,” he said, pushing back from the table and running a hand through his hair. “Maybe Will didn’t actually mean I’d seen Rebecca’s photograph.”

“Or maybe,” Tessa suggested gently, “it’s something so obvious you’re overlooking it. Sometimes when we’re searching too hard for something, we miss what’s right in front of us.”

She stood and moved to stand behind his chair, her uninjured hand coming to rest on his shoulder in a gesture that was both comforting and intimate. Sebastian found himself leaning into her touch, marveling at how natural it felt to accept comfort from her.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said softly. “Will waited eighty years—he can wait a little longer.”

Sebastian covered her hand with his, threading their fingers together. “I hate feeling this useless. There’s an answer here somewhere, and I can’t see it.”

“You’re not useless,” Tessa said firmly. “You’ve hired the best researchers, you’ve organized everything perfectly, you’ve been methodical and thorough. Sometimes the breakthrough just takes time.”

The easy way she defended him, built up his confidence even when he was frustrated with himself, felt like a revelation. In his previous relationships, setbacks had been met with impatience or criticism. Tessa’s steady support made him want to be worthy of her faith in him.

“Besides,” she added with a teasing smile, “I’m getting a lovely tour of your very impressive research skills. And your very impressive flat. Though I still think it needs more personality.”

“What would you suggest?” Sebastian asked, genuinely curious.

“Books left lying around. A coffee mug that hasn’t been immediately washed and put away. Maybe a photograph or two of people you care about.” She paused, her fingers tightening slightly on his. “Evidence that someone lives here, not just sleeps here.”

Sebastian turned in his chair to face her fully, bringing their joined hands to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “And would you help me make it feel more like home?”

The question hung between them, weighted with implications about their future that neither had explicitly discussed but both understood.

“I’d like that,” Tessa said softly, her eyes never leaving his. “I’d like that very much.”

Sebastian rose from his chair, their hands still joined, bringing them face to face in the golden afternoon light streaming through his floor-to-ceiling windows. The research files scattered across his dining table were forgotten as he reached up to cup her cheek with his free hand.

“Tessa,” he said, her name barely a whisper.

“Yes?” she breathed, already leaning into his touch.

This time, there was no hesitation. Sebastian’s lips found hers in a kiss that was deeper, more certain than their tentative first kiss at her door. She responded immediately, her good hand fisting in his shirt to pull him closer as weeks of tension and growing attraction finally found their outlet.

When they broke apart, both breathing unsteadily, Sebastian rested his forehead against hers.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all afternoon,” he admitted.

“Only all afternoon?” Tessa teased, her eyes bright with mischief. “I’ve been thinking about it since Friday night.”

“In that case,” Sebastian murmured, trailing kisses along her jaw, “I have some catching up to do.”

Her laugh turned into a soft gasp as he found that sensitive spot just below her ear. “Sebastian...”

“Mmm?” He was thoroughly distracted by the way she melted against him.

“We should probably...probably stop before...”

“Before we can’t stop?” he finished, pulling back to study her flushed face with satisfaction.

“Exactly.” But she made no move to step away from him, her fingers still twisted in his shirt.

“Sensible,” he agreed, though his hands remained on her waist. “Completely logical.”

“We’re being very mature about this,” Tessa said solemnly.

“Exceptionally mature,” Sebastian nodded, leaning down to steal another quick kiss.

“Very responsible,” she added against his lips.

“The pinnacle of restraint,” he murmured, kissing her again, longer this time.

When they finally broke apart, both were laughing at their complete lack of actual restraint.

“We’re terrible at this,” Tessa observed, though she looked thoroughly pleased about it.

“Absolutely hopeless,” Sebastian agreed. “Though I have to say, your definition of ‘stopping’ is rather flexible.”

“Says the man who keeps kissing me while agreeing we should stop.”

Sebastian stepped back slightly, his hands still resting on her waist. “You’re right. I should probably behave myself.”

“Should you?” Tessa’s eyes danced with amusement. “And believe me, you are far from perfect.”

The comment made Sebastian laugh, a genuine sound of delight. “Harsh but fair.”

“I want to do this right,” he said more seriously, though his thumb traced gentle circles on her waist. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for. And I don’t want either of us to have regrets.”

“Very noble,” Tessa said softly.

“Besides,” Sebastian added, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone, “I want to enjoy our courtship. There’s no rush here.” His eyes met hers with unmistakable warmth. “Though I have to admit, I sure love the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you’re thinking very interesting thoughts.”

Tessa’s cheeks flushed pink, but her smile was unrepentant. “Maybe I am.”

“Right. We’re definitely stopping now before I do something that would scandalize Will’s Victorian sensibilities.”

“Assuming he’s not already getting an eyeful,” Sebastian pointed out. “For all we know, he’s been haunting my apartment this entire time, judging our research methods.”

Tessa glanced around the pristine penthouse with mock concern. “Good heavens, you’re right. Will, if you’re here, this is all very proper and educational!”

“Speak for yourself,” Sebastian said dryly. “My education has been thoroughly improper.”

“Sebastian Westfield!” Tessa swatted his arm with her good hand. “Behave yourself.”

“I’m trying,” he protested. “But you make it remarkably difficult when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking very improper thoughts of your own.”

Tessa’s cheeks flushed pink, but her grin was unrepentant. “Maybe I am.”

The admission hung in the air between them, charged with promise and possibility, until Sebastian cleared his throat decisively.

“Right. Research files. Very important historical work. Completely unsexy.”

“Absolutely,” Tessa agreed, though her eyes were still sparkling with mischief. “Nothing romantic about dusty old documents.”

They spent another hour attempting to focus on the files, but their attention had fundamentally shifted. Every accidental brush of fingers as they passed documents became charged with awareness. Every shared glance carried the memory of their kisses. By the time they admitted defeat, both were thoroughly distracted and completely smitten.

They’d found their rhythm as a couple.

“I should get back,” Tessa said eventually, glancing at her watch. “Tomorrow’s Halloween, and I’ve got a themed event at the pub that requires considerable preparation.”

“Halloween at The Red Lion,” Sebastian mused. “That should be interesting, given our current supernatural circumstances.”

“Oh, it will be,” Tessa laughed. “I’ve spent weeks planning a 1940s theme in honor of Will. Vintage costumes, period music, historical displays about the Blitz. It seemed appropriate.” Her expression grew more serious. “It’s actually a fundraiser for the heritage application. I’m hoping to raise enough money and community support to...” She trailed off, the unspoken words hanging between them.

To stop his company from buying the building. To save The Red Lion from becoming luxury apartments. To fight against everything Westfield Development represented.

Sebastian felt the familiar tension return to his chest—the conflict between what his board expected and what his heart wanted. He should say something, should address the elephant in the room, should tell her that his priorities had shifted completely. But pulling out of the acquisition would require explanations to his board that he wasn’t prepared to give—not yet. How could he tell them he was abandoning a profitable deal because he’d fallen for the woman standing in their way?

“That sounds like a worthy cause,” he said carefully, the diplomatic response feeling inadequate even as he spoke it.

Tessa studied his face for a moment, and he could see her processing his careful neutrality. The awareness of their fundamental conflict flickered between them—a reminder that no matter how much their personal relationship had evolved, the business realities hadn’t disappeared.

“Would you like some help with the preparations?” he offered, hoping to bridge the awkward moment.

“I’d love that,” she said, standing and reaching for her jacket. “Though I should warn you—it might get chaotic. Halloween brings out the more...spirited customers.”

“I think I can handle a little chaos,” Sebastian replied, helping her with her coat and marveling at how domestic the gesture felt.

As they prepared to leave his penthouse, Sebastian took one last look around the pristine space. Tessa was right—it was beautiful but cold, impressive but unlived-in. For the first time, he found himself looking forward to changing that, to making it a place where someone like Tessa would want to spend time.

A place that felt like home rather than just a display of success.

Tomorrow was Halloween, and they still hadn’t solved the mystery of Rebecca’s photograph. But as Sebastian watched Tessa gather her things with easy familiarity in his space, he realized that some discoveries were worth more than others.

He’d found something he hadn’t even known he was looking for.