The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 135

135 An Impulsive Invitation

Hazel’s POV@

“The good news?” I repeated, sliding into my car. “I was telling her about Dad’s arrest.”

I adjusted the rearview mirror, catching my own reflection. My cheeks were still flushed from my graveside confession.

“I see,” Sebastian said. “How did that go at the station yesterday?”

I buckled my seatbelt and leaned back. “Better than expected. The detective was thorough but fair. With the evidence your team collected, Dad didn’t stand a chance.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sebastian replied, his voice warm. “Your father won’t be able to hurt you again.”

I started the engine but didn’t pull away just yet. The cemetery stretched out before me, peaceful in the morning light. A weight had lifted from my shoulders – not just from reporting my father, but from finally admitting my feelings for Sebastian, even if only to my mother’s headstone.

“I did it for Mom,” I said quietly. “And for myself. I couldn’t let him keep getting away with everything.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Hazel. Quick-thinking, too.”

I smiled at his praise. “I learned from the best.”

“Oh? And who might that be?” His tone was playful.

“Definitely not telling you. Your ego is big enough already.”

His laugh sent warmth spreading through my chest. We fell into a comfortable silence, neither rushing to end the call.

“How’s your arm?” he asked finally.

I glanced down at the spot where Ivy had burned me weeks ago. The skin had healed, leaving only a faint mark. “Much better. Barely notice it now.”

“Good.”

Another silence stretched between us, this one charged with unspoken tension.

“Well,” Sebastian cleared his throat, “I should let you go. I’ve got meetings all morning.”

“Wait,” I blurted, surprising myself. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Are you free for lunch today?”

The question hung in the air. I pressed my lips together, immediately regretting my impulsiveness.

“Lunch?” Sebastian sounded taken aback.

“I-yes. Lunch,” I stammered, then straightened my shoulders. “You’ve helped me so much. The least I can do is buy you lunch.”

“You want to buy me lunch.” His voice held a hint of amusement.

I rolled my eyes, regaining my composure. “Don’t make me rescind the offer, Sinclair.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’d be honored to have

lunch with you, Hazel.”

Relief washed over me. “Great. How’s one o’clock? I can text you the address.”

“One o’clock works perfectly.”

“I’ll see you then.”

We hung up, and I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel. What was I doing? I was drowning in debt from the company buyout, and here I was planning to treat Sebastian Sinclair – one of the richest men in the country – to lunch.

I pulled out of the cemetery and dialed Vera’s number. She answered on the third ring.

“Morning, sunshine. Did you see the ghosts of all your enemies at the cemetery?”

Vera’s cheerful voice filled the car.

“Very funny. Listen, I need a favor.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you get me a private dining room at Lumière for one o’clock today?”

Vera whistled. “Fancy. That place costs a month’s rent for an appetizer. Who are you trying to impress?”

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I chewed my lip. “Sebastian Sinclair.”

“THE Sebastian Sinclair?” Vera’s voice rose an octave. “As in, your knight in expensive armor? The man who’s been saving your ass left and right? That Sebastian?”

“Do you know another one?” I snapped, embarrassment making me defensive.

“Whoa, whoa. Don’t bite my head off.” She paused. “Wait a minute. Are you taking him on a date?”

“It’s not a date!” I protested too quickly. “It’s a thank-you lunch.”

“A thank-you lunch at the most expensive restaurant in the city? In a private dining room?” Vera’s skepticism dripped through the phone. “Honey, you’re broke from buying Evening Gala. You can’t afford Lumière’s breadbasket.”

I merged onto the highway, sighing heavily. “I know, I know. But he deserves something nice after everything he’s done for me.”

“So bring him homemade cookies. Or, I don’t know, actually tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel about what?” I feigned ignorance.

Vera laughed. “Please. You light up like a Christmas tree whenever his name comes up. You’re crushing on him harder than I crushed on my eighth-grade math teacher.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I muttered, but my heated cheeks betrayed me.

“Is it? Because you sound pretty flustered for someone who’s just saying ‘thank you’ to

a business associate.”

I changed lanes aggressively. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll call Dad and have him arrange it. The perks of being a restaurant

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