Sebastian stood in front of his father's desk, unsure why he had been called.
Ever since the declaration at dinner, he had made a point of avoiding Matthew. His father had never cared much for his feelings before, and Sebastian had no reason to believe that had suddenly changed.
"Sit," Matthew said.
Sebastian didn't move immediately. He only stared at him.
Matthew, meanwhile, seemed entirely unbothered. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass of scotch, watching it catch the warm light of the study before taking a slow, appreciative sip.
Then he poured another glass.
"For you," he said, sliding it across the desk. "Have it. It's Macallan 25." He leaned back slightly in his chair. "I opened this bottle the day you were born."
Sebastian's expression didn't change.
Matthew continued calmly. "I took a sip every time you achieved something." He glanced at the bottle beside him. "Still full."
Sebastian rolled his eyes.
