Sebastian didn't look up until Liam was three feet from the table. Then his eyes lifted, and that smooth, knowing smile spread across his face. "Liam. I was wondering when you'd find your way over."
"May I sit?"
The question was polite, but it wasn't a request. Sebastian gestured to the empty chair across from him, the motion easy, unhurried. "Please."
Liam pulled out the chair and sat. The table was small, intimate, the kind of spot that let you see the whole room without being seen yourself. Smart placement. Sebastian Hart knew how to control a space.
"You're not mingling," Liam observed.
"Neither are you." Sebastian picked up his champagne glass, swirling the liquid once before setting it down untouched. "Though I suppose you're on the clock. Art consultant in tow, auction lots to evaluate." He tilted his head. "Very professional of you."
Liam let the comment hang. He picked up a napkin, folded it once, set it down. "I need to ask you something."
Sebastian's smile sharpened at the edges. "I assumed you didn't come here for the canapés."
"The Eros," Liam said the word flatly, watching Sebastian's face for the micro-shift, the tell. "A shipment logged for your club was stolen. Pure batch. Off-the-books warehouse."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed, his voice carrying a note of genuine confusion. "Was this my batch?"
The question hung between them, and for a moment, Liam let himself read the other man's face. Sebastian's brow was furrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line — not the practiced concern of a guilty man caught off guard, but the real irritation of someone who'd just learned something was wrong with his business.
"It was logged for the Velvet Rope," Liam said.
Sebastian set down his champagne glass with a quiet clink. "I've been expecting that shipment any day now. It never arrived." His voice was flat, controlled, but something sharp crept in at the edges. "I assumed there was a delay. Supply chain issues, a misroute, someone at Valmont dragging their feet." He met Liam's eyes directly. "Not that it had been lifted."
"You're telling me you didn't know."
"I'm telling you I didn't know." Sebastian leaned forward, his elbows resting on the tablecloth. His voice dropped, losing its smooth veneer. "Why would I steal my own shipment, Liam? Walk me through the logic there."
Liam held his gaze. "Someone pays you more than you're making on the floor, you reroute the product, sell it private, claim it was lost. It's not complicated."
Sebastian let out a short, humorless laugh. "You think I'd burn a relationship with both you and the Valmonts for one payday? The Eros I move through the Velvet Rope brings in more than enough. It's consistent, it's clean, and it keeps my high-end clients coming back every weekend." He shook his head slowly. "I'm not stupid enough to kill a golden goose for a single egg."
The words landed with the weight of a man who believed what he was saying. Liam studied him — the set of his shoulders, the steadiness of his hands, the way his eyes held contact instead of flickering to an exit. There was no sweat at his temples, no twitch in his jaw. Nothing that said liar.
"Then who?" Liam asked.
"I don't know." Sebastian's voice was quiet, frustrated. "But I want to find out as much as you do. That shipment was expensive. And if someone's hitting shipments tied to my name, that's a problem for me, not just for you."
Liam sat back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. The map in his study redrew itself again — the warehouse, the club, the gala. Sebastian Hart, genuine and frustrated, sitting across from him with nothing to hide and everything to lose.
He had been so certain. The timing, the connection, the shipment logged for Hart's club. It had all fit too neatly, and that was the problem — it fit too neatly. Someone had wanted it to look like Sebastian. Someone had wanted Liam looking in that direction.
"You have enemies," Liam said. It wasn't a question.
Sebastian's smile thinned. "I run a club that moves product. Everyone in this city has enemies when they are connected to you." He picked up his glass, took a small sip this time, then set it down again. “I have no idea who could of done this. I do my best not to make personal enemies.”
Liam's jaw tightened. The words echoed what Victor had said two nights ago. Professional extraction. No forced entry. Inside knowledge.
"I'll help however I can on my end," Sebastian said. "I don't like people stealing from me, even if the product hadn't reached my door yet." He paused, his eyes sharpening. "And Liam?"
Liam met his gaze.
"Next time you want to interrogate me, buy me a drink first." Sebastian's smile returned, thin and humorless. "It's polite."
Liam stood, adjusting his cuff. "I'll keep that in mind."
He turned and walked back into the crowd, his mind already racing down new paths. If not Sebastian, then who? Someone inside Valmont? Someone with access to the shipping logs. Someone who knew the warehouse existed — because very few people did.