He raised his glass and toasted me, giving me a sly wink before his lips drew back into a small, knowing, devastating smile. Seriously, he practically oozed sex appeal, the way Mab Monroe had Fire magic, although being this close to Sebastian was far more enjoyable. Not even Finn was that charming, cute—or confident.
For a moment, I was dazzled speechless by him, but then I shook away the fairy-tale idea, the appealing mirage that he could somehow be attracted to me.
“Look, you’re cute and all, but I don’t date guys I meet at work.”
His smile widened, the expression causing a bit of heat to simmer in my veins. “Cute? Just cute? Is that all? I was hoping for handsome, at the very least.”
Despite my exasperation, I couldn’t help but return his smile. “Okay, okay, you’re handsome, sophisticated, gorgeous, even. Happy now?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Gorgeous?” He thought about it. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
My smile sharpened. “Egotistical too.”
With most guys, that would have ended the flirting right then and there, but not with Sebastian. The suave smile never slipped from his face, despite my pointed insult. Instead, he toasted me with his glass again. He didn’t back down from me, which made me like him more.
“Beautiful and witty,” he murmured. “I approve. But my earlier question stands. What are you doing working as a waitress?”
I shrugged. “It’s what I do. Here, there, everywhere.”
“Oh. You have a day job too?”
“Yeah, at a restaurant downtown.”
It was one thing to give him my first name, but that was as much info as I was willing to share. Fletcher always said that the best lies were mostly truth, and being a poor, working-stiff waitress fit in perfectly with the persona I’d developed for tonight. Besides, I could always have the bad luck of running into him at another party. On the off chance that Sebastian did remember me, all he would recall was some vague, slightly flirty conversation we’d had about my being a waitress. Nothing personal and certainly nothing important.
Nothing that would give him any clue to what I was planning to do to his father.
“Maybe I can come by your restaurant sometime,” he said. “Take you out after your shift is over.”
I snorted.
“What?”
I gave him a flat look. “Guys like you don’t go out with girls like me. At least, not for very long.”
“How long is not very?”
I snorted again. “Just long enough for you to get what you want, before moving on to the next girl. You might slum it for a few weeks out in the suburbs or even down in Southtown, if you’re feeling especially dangerous, but guys like you always go back to your rich Northtown honeys sooner or later. Besides, you wouldn’t want to risk pissing off Daddy and having him cut off access to your trust fund. No girl’s worth that, right?” By the time I finished, my voice was dripping with venom, disdain, and sarcasm.
His eyes glittered. “Well, maybe I’m an exception.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But it doesn’t much matter.”
Sebastian stepped even closer to me, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur. “Doesn’t it? Wouldn’t you like to find out? Because I certainly want to know more about you, Gin.”
I should have given him another derisive snort. Should have made some harsh, biting comment about his lame lines. Should have shoved past him and headed back to the dining room without another word. But something in his intense gaze made me hold my tongue, something in his handsome face made me take another look at him, and something in his tall, strong stance made me want to put my tray down, run my hands over his shoulders, and see if his muscles were as firm as they looked.
Sebastian must have sensed my hesitation, because he reached out, gently tugging on the end of my dark brown ponytail. “You know,” he said in that same husky tone, “I bet you would look even more amazing with your hair down.”
“Certainly. But that’s something you’ll never find out.”
Sebastian grinned and clutched his hands over his heart in mock exaggeration, as though I’d mortally wounded him with my words. If only he knew how easily I could do that with one of the knives tucked up my sleeves, he wouldn’t be giving me such smoldering looks. No, he would have been sweating, screaming, and running away from me as fast as he could.
Of course, I wasn’t exactly being smart right now either. I should have meekly excused myself from this conversation long ago, not stood here trading mocking insults and flirty banter with the son of the man I was planning to kill. Fletcher had taught me better than that. He would have been horrified by how many of his rules I’d broken in the last five minutes: Don’t be memorable. Don’t do anything to attract attention to yourself. Don’t engage potential enemies or targets in any way.
But for some reason, tonight, I just didn’t care about the old man’s rules.
Maybe it was how handsome Sebastian looked with the light glinting off his black hair. Maybe it was the way he focused all of his attention on me. Or maybe it was the simple fact that I enjoyed being with someone who actually gave as good as he got. But I liked talking to him—far more than I should have.
Other waiters and waitresses enjoyed quick dalliances with guests at these dinners all the time. Tonight, for the first time, I wanted my own seven minutes of heaven, and it took me longer than it should have to quash this wild, reckless feeling that Sebastian stirred in me.
He gave my ponytail another gentle tug. “I don’t know, Gin,” he murmured again, his dark gaze locking with my light one. “I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it.”
And I could be very deadly, although I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I tightened my grip on my tray.
“I’m sure you can be . . . on some other girl. Now, I really have to get back to work. Please excuse me.”
This time, I finally did move past him, careful not to spill the champagne. I strode down the corridor as fast as I could without rattling the delicate glasses. All the while, though, I was aware of Sebastian standing behind me, and it almost seemed like I could feel his eyes on me, tracking the soft swing of my hips. More heat simmered through my veins at the thought of him watching me.
“You’re going to change your mind about me, Gin,” he called out. “I’ll come by your restaurant and take you out one night. Count on it.”
I reached the end of the corridor. The smart thing would have been to keep right on walking, but I stopped and turned around to face him.