Felix had to admit, privately and with no intention of recording it anywhere useful, that he may have overestimated Sebastian Westwood's capacity for concern. In hindsight, now that Sebastian appeared in no immediate rush to peel either of his sisters off a vomit covered bear rug, Felix could see where he had gone wrong. It was possible, he supposed, that having Bunny and Madi as sisters had simply ruined a man's emergency response system over time. There had likely been rehearsals. Drills. Entire ruined evenings lost to this exact genre of catastrophe.
For one brief second, Felix almost sympathized with him. "Well, of course I didn't do anything to make them cry, Sebastian. I walked by and found them howling on a rug." Felix explained, with only the faintest thread of exhaustion showing through. "There's a difference. A small one, perhaps, but I imagine the courts would respect it." and that was where the sympathy for Sebastian ended. He blinked at Sebastian, unimpressed. "I only proposed to one of them, which, if we're being technical, would make Madisyn your problem and Isabella mine." Then, Felix decided to wash his hands of the entire situation.
Fine.
If Sebastian Westwood did not care about two wailing Westwood sisters collapsed on decorative wildlife, then Felix saw no reason to be the last man standing on the sinking ship of basic human decency. He gave a single shrug, careless, then reached for a nearby drink and settled himself beside Sebastian. He took a sip. Scanned the room with bored attention before his gaze returned to Sebastian. Quietly scrutinizing. Because Felix believed that most people, like most markets, only required a little pressure before they could fall into place. "Did you know Kitty's real name is Katherine Beecham?" he asked, his tone slipping into something painfully casual, all forced lightness with a smug little hook beneath it. He let that sit there. Just for a moment. Then he took another sip and gave Sebastian another innocent shrug, which was, of course, the least innocent kind. "Madi was saying something about it earlier, but I'll admit, I don't really know much about you Brits. What are the Beecham's like? Nice?"
sebastian's smug grin stays exactly where it is as felix speaks and his eyes stay on the ranstrom over the rim of his glass, watching the mild panic move behind felix's eyes while he insists he only passed the room and saw madi and bunny in hysterics. which, unfortunately, sounds entirely believable. his sisters are very capable women, both of them, but they do have a gift for turning any room into either a tribunal or a crime scene. sometimes both.
'well, that'll do it.' sebastian says, dry and simple, mostly because he's enjoying being unhelpful far too much. felix deserves a taste of his own medicine now and then and preferably while sebastian gets to smirk into his drink. he's just about to drop the act, only slightly, just enough to admit that he simply does not have it in him to rush to his sisters' aid every time they have some overwhelming emotional bonding moment. or argument. or both at the same time, which is usually how these things go. but then felix seems to detach from the entire thing in front of him, and sebastian pauses, faintly thrown by how quickly he shifts from fierce determination to the cool suggestion that none of it has mattered to him for even a second.
and then felix says it. katherine beecham. sebastian's grin smooths out immediately into something far less smug. not gone, exactly, because pride remains a dreadful little instinct, but it's smaller. a little tighter. he looks away from felix and scans the party instead, as if the room has suddenly become fascinating. 'they're pleasant enough.' he says with a shrug, the sort of shrug a child gives when he has decided to be contrary even if it ruins his own afternoon. 'a few of them are into politics, nothing major.' which is, of course, an insane thing to say about the beechams.
he finishes his drink slowly, because rushing would be embarrassing and because he refuses to give felix the pleasure of seeing the exact moment a beecham-shaped problem arranges itself in his head. only then does sebastian turn back to him, expression light again by force of habit, the concern dressed up neatly as a curious afterthought. 'so whereabouts is this rug, then?'
sebastian leaves the meeting with his jacket still buttoned and an expression that suggests the last hour has made him want to walk directly into traffic. the event space refresh is moving along, technically, though if one more person says intentionality about a carpet sample, he may have to make peace with becoming roadkill after all. he should go back to the office. there are emails waiting, calls to return, and a document open on his laptop that he has been heroically ignoring since half ten. then he spots max at the bar, and the laugh slips out before sebastian can really help it. responsibility can survive another ten minutes without him. probably.
'christ, it's that time of year already?' he says, diverting with immediate ease, coming to a stop beside the ranstrom cousin already grinning. 'i wasn't planning on seeing you in new york until at least christmas.' max is easier trouble, sebastian thinks. he has no awful little talent for making him feel examined, just the pleasant suggestion that whatever he is meant to be doing can be delayed in favour of something worse. sebastian glances him over, amused. 'i didn't know you were staying here. thought bunny mentioned something about a new apartment?' his hand is already reaching for his phone, because apparently he is that predictable. 'let me sort the suite out for you. i'm guessing someone downstairs put you somewhere tragic.' @secrettyrant
sebastian knows the moment he's fucked it. not immediately, admittedly. in the moment itself, it was easy enough to correct. casual, harmless and barely worth thinking about. 'girlfriend's a bit strong.' he had said with a laugh, drink balanced loose in one hand while the conversation moved around them. worse still, he hadn't even offered an alternative. not a she's my date or anything remotely useful to save himself with afterwards. he simply corrected it and moved on, which in hindsight now feels a little bit like watching himself step on a landmine in slow motion.
because now imogen is outside and she didn't even storm there dramatically, which somehow makes it considerably worse. he notices her absence about ten minutes too late, catching sight of her through the open terrace doors beyond the blur of people and candlelight. right. brilliant. when he steps outside himself, the door shuts behind him with a muffled thud. people move loosely across the terrace in twos and threes, half drunk conversations drifting through cigarette smoke and the occasional burst of laughter. sebastian reaches into his coat pocket for his own cigarette, mostly just to give himself something to do with his hands. he taps one loose and glances to imogen briefly before lighting it.
he doesn't immediately mention it. obviously. instead he leans back lightly against the railing beside her, all relaxed posture and practiced composure, smoke drifting slowly between them. '...are you hiding from me specifically?' he asks after a second, voice light and conversational. 'or from everyone in there?' @dxrkenedheights
Theo works in a legal advisory role at Zenith Capital Management, where his sharp mind and understanding of business law have made him quietly difficult to replace. The Paredes family have long worked closely within Zenith’s orbit. Their name carries a reputation in business law for being efficient, ruthless, and occasionally accused of playing dirty though, as they would point out, there has never been any proof.
Theo has always quietly resented the lifestyle he benefits from. In that sense, he is more like Felix Ranstrom than he would ever willingly admit. The difference is that Theo never fully walked away from the system. He learned how to navigate it better. He knows how to move through elite spaces, read legal pressure points, and play the game when necessary. He can be charming when the situation calls for it, but he is just as often direct, stubborn, difficult, and annoyingly intelligent.
Where law is concerned, Theo is especially sharp. He is good at finding the flaw in a plan, the risk in a contract, and the loophole someone else thought they had hidden well enough. His dynamic with Oskar Ranstrom is more complicated than an outright rivalry because of this. They often clash because both men are too stubborn for their own good, but there is also a strange honesty between them that neither seems to find easily elsewhere.
Recently, Theo has become aware that his name has been mentioned in conversations about the future COO position. He is not especially interested in the role, or at least claims not to be. That said, Theo does enjoy annoying Oskar by stacking up small victories in his own favor, especially when Agneta praises him for them. Whether or not he wants the position, he is not above making it look like he might.
Theo has been asked to oversee the legal needs attached to Zenith’s relationship with Almaza, the Alvarez family’s luxury tequila brand. As Almaza expands internationally, Zenith sees the account as increasingly promising and worth nurturing carefully. His work with Almaza involves contracts, international expansion, regulatory issues, legal risk, and making sure enthusiasm does not outrun consequence.
The problem is Isla Alvarez. Theo and Isla recently slept together, crossing a line that has made their professional dynamic far more complicated than either would like to admit. Since then, both of them have attempted to behave professionally. Mostly, this has resulted in sharp quips, hot and cold treatment, cold shoulders, pettiness, and meetings where everyone else can sense some kind of tension.
Despite the sharp edges, Theo is more than a grumpy face that happens to be right about law. He can be easygoing, thoughtful, proactive, and unexpectedly considerate when he chooses to be. Everything about Theo is simply quieter and less performative than much of the world around him.
felix ranstrom and the westwoods @gloriouswhispers
The music was abysmal.
Not dramatically abysmal, which at least might have offered the room some personality, but practically abysmal. A relentless, monotonous drumbeat that bled into every song until the entire evening began to feel like one long, expensive mistake. Deep house, apparently. Music without personality, without shame, without any clear evidence of wanting to be something, which Felix thought suited SoHo rather beautifully. A place where people pretended to be interesting deserved a drumbeat that pretended to be useful. Its only real function seemed to be producing headaches and making time collapse in on itself, though Felix supposed, if he wanted to be generous, warping time was not the least impressive achievement in the world.
Unfortunately, he had more important matters to attend to. Namely, hunting down Sebastian Westwood with the kind of sharp, undeviating focus that suggested an emergency had occurred and that someone, somewhere, had made the grave administrative error of involving Felix in it. To his credit, none of this showed on his face. His expression remained blank, the particular dissociative little mask he put on the moment he entered a room. The only betrayal was the urgency in his stare, and possibly the fact that he was approaching Sebastian at all, considering they had both done the mature and merciful thing some time ago and agreed to give each other a fairly wide berth.
"Both of your sisters are crying." Felix said once close enough. Simple. Efficient. Almost civic-minded. He did not blink. "And both of them appear to have collapsed on a genuine bear rug." he added, looking Sebastian square in the eye, because there were moments in life when a man needed to understand the full weight of his own bloodline. "A bear rug which also seems to have acquired a rather impressive amount of vomit." Felix gave a small nod, as if confirming a figure in a report. Yes, Sebastian. This is your problem too.
"Now, the one I'm engaged to, I can carry." he continued, with the calm of discussing logistics rather than a scene involving tears, taxidermy, and rather pink-colored chunky liquids. "But I can't quite drag the other one out with me at the same time. Not to mention the fact that..." he gestured vaguely around them, taking in the apartment, the crowd, the witnesses, the eager little machinery of gossip already oiling itself in the corners. "That's not quite a rumor I'm in the mood for."
ignoring felix ranstrom is a bit like trying to ignore a six foot four viking standing directly in your peripheral vision. impossible, really. sebastian sees the shift of his giant shadow across the room before he properly looks over, and he can already guess the expression waiting for him there. focused. immovable. deeply unfortunate for whoever becomes the problem attached to it. apparently tonight, that's him. sebastian barely glances at him for more than a second before lifting his drink instead, already half waiting for whatever disaster is about to be explained to him. honestly, with bunny involved, the possibilities are endless.
though admittedly, even he wasn't expecting both sisters. 'now, how on earth did you make them both cry?' he asks, like the answer could possibly be anything other than alcohol, emotional oversharing, and the general intensity that seems to overtake westwood women once they pass a certain number of martinis. he keeps his expression mostly neutral as felix elaborates further. the bear rug. the vomit. madisyn and bunny apparently deteriorating somewhere within the vicinity. all sebastian can do is sigh. 'i'm not carrying madisyn through this party while you carry bunny,' he says, already mildly horrified by the image alone. 'who, we both know, will be screaming at everybody we have to walk through.' another sip of his drink follows, entirely unhelpful.
'just lure them out quietly and let somebody else discover the vomit tomorrow morning.' sebastian adds, and the corner of his mouth twitches with a grin. 'also, i'm not sure why you've decided this should involve me at all.' he reaches over to pat felix once against the shoulder with deeply insincere sympathy. 'good luck, chap. you got this. just remember, it's what you proposed to.'
Lia comes from old Southern money, raised within a family known for its ties to the arts and philanthropy. Though her roots remain important to her, Lia has always traveled often and built a life that feels broader than any one place.
As an art curator and philanthropist, Lia moves easily through galleries, museums, private collections, charity events, and cultural circles. She has always been drawn to beauty, meaning, and the softer human things that money can either protect or completely distort.
Lia met Oskar Ranstrom six years ago and fell for him quickly, despite the obvious differences between them. Where Oskar was restrained, disciplined, and difficult to reach, Lia saw the man beneath the control. His dry humor, the rare softness, the well-meaning grin that appeared when he forgot to guard himself.
They married a year after meeting, and a year later, their son Lukas was born. For a while, Lia believed they could build a life that made room for both Oskar’s duty and the warmth she wanted for their family. Their marriage ended last year, when Lukas was three. The divorce came around the time of Olaf Ranstrom’s death, as Oskar retreated further and further into work, grief, and the world of Zenith. Lia was not the one who initiated it.
Since the divorce, Lia has remained in New York so she and Oskar can co-parent Lukas as effectively as possible. Where she can, she avoids relying too heavily on nannies or au pairs, wanting Lukas to have a softer, more present upbringing than the one Oskar seems to understand. Lia often struggles to connect with Oskar on those differences. She wants warmth, emotional presence, and a home that feels lived in. Oskar, even when well-intentioned, often defaults to structure, duty, and distance.
Despite everything, Lia misses him deeply or at least, she misses the man she loved. She misses the version of Oskar who could be gentle, funny, and unexpectedly open when the rest of the world was not watching. Lia has since met Victor Ashford, and the two are now in a relationship. She knows the situation is complicated, and perhaps a little petty in ways she does not always want to examine, given Victor’s proximity to Zenith and Oskar’s world.
Still, Victor genuinely fits into her life well. He is warm, supportive, attentive, and able to make time in ways Oskar often could not. Lia is not blind to the comparison, but she also cannot deny the relief of being with someone who shows up without needing to be taught how.
Graceful, perceptive, emotionally intelligent, and quietly stubborn, Lia is not as fragile as people sometimes assume. She can be soft without being weak, forgiving without being foolish, and loving without forgetting what something cost her. She is trying to build a life beyond Oskar while still grieving the version of him she knows existed, even if he rarely knew how to keep that version alive.
Sebastian is the son of Genevieve Westwood, twin brother to Madisyn and older brother to Isabella. As a project lead within Westwood Group, he works across the family’s luxury hotel and real estate business, helping oversee developments, renovations, openings, and the kinds of projects tied closely to the Westwood name.
Sebastian is hardworking and good at what he does. Charming, capable, and socially fluent, he understands the family business well and genuinely wants to make his mother proud. More than that, he is determined not to jeopardize the Westwood name again after everything his father’s scandal once cost them.
For all his competence, Sebastian has always romanticized freedom and rebellion just a little. Unlike Bunny, he rarely does anything too openly destructive; instead, his mischief comes in smaller, cheekier ways. He knows how to test a boundary, make a bad idea sound harmless, and slip out of seriousness before anyone can fully pin him down.
There is an underlying jealousy Sebastian feels toward both of his sisters, though he would struggle to name it clearly. He admires Madisyn and envies how naturally she seems to handle responsibility, even when he knows it costs her. With Bunny, he envies her ability to take off and disappear.
Sebastian himself sits somewhere between them. He wants to do well, wants to be reliable, and wants to prove he is worthy of the future being shaped for him but there are still moments where he becomes slippery, impulsive, and troublesome.
He can talk the talk, and most of the time he can walk the walk too. That is part of what makes him frustrating. Sebastian is not careless enough to dismiss, but not always consistent enough to fully trust.
His fickleness shows most clearly in his social and romantic life. Sebastian has a history of relationships that become blurred, undefined, or quietly doomed by his unwillingness to commit fully.
Most of the time, when things fall apart, Sebastian is the one to blame. He can be hot and cold, affectionate and evasive, present and unreachable, often avoiding difficult conversations until the silence has done the damage for him.
Recently, Sebastian met Imogen Quinn, and the two have begun dating. In his mind, the relationship is still new enough that it does not need too much definition yet.
The problem is that time has started to move faster than his excuses. Imogen is beginning to expect more clarity, more stability, and more reassurance than Sebastian is comfortable giving.
To complicate things further, Genevieve likes Imogen, and Imogen has already begun finding her place within the wider social group. She is no longer just someone Sebastian is seeing quietly on the side; she is becoming connected to his family, his friends, and the world he moves through.
Sebastian likes Imogen more than he expected to, which makes him more avoidant rather than less. The more real it starts to feel, the more he finds himself tempted to keep things light, delay the conversation, or pretend nothing has to change yet.
He wants to be a man his family can rely on, but part of him still reaches for escape whenever responsibility starts to feel too much like a cage.
hey look, there’s francesca 'frankie' vaisman, a 49 year old bartender from Atlanta GA, somehow managing to be loving, wise, and protective while also being blunt, difficult, and a little too headstrong for their own good.
mama to kenzie
sister to evelyn
aunty to allie, astra and aries
neighborhood aunt too with open door policy and vaisman through and through
helps out at the bar to support her sister but also does other jobs throughout the community
hey look, there’s margo harrison, a 24 year old from atlanta, somehow managing to be troublesome, mischievous, and avoidant while also being gregarious, helpful, and a little too cynical for their own good.
isnt very close with her family
typically grew up between crosses (wolf) and vaismans
unemployed and just runs little hustles, or steals with allie
hey look, there’s lia murphy, a 35 year old server from nashville, tn, somehow managing to be headstrong, creative, and nurturing while also being free-thinking, avoidant, and a little too independent for their own good.
from nashville, spent the last few years travelling all over the states with her band, living out of vans, motels, and whatever they could afford
had a shitty ex in the band who handled a lot of the money side of things
things blew up between them mid tour and he completely screwed her over
left her with debts, drained most of their touring money, and took off with the car without warning
all she was left with was their run down trailer they always meant to fix up but never actually did
decided to treat atlanta as a starting over point instead of going back home
plan is to fix up the trailer enough to live in properly, rebuild her savings, and get back on her feet
keeps telling herself it's temporary and she'll leave once she's sorted, even if that keeps taking longer than expected
hey look, there’s santiago alvarez, a 44 year old manual laborer from atlanta, somehow managing to be practical, reserved, and observant while also being stubborn, unpredictable, and a little too intense for their own good.
been in and out of jail most of his life but tried to remain on the straight and narrow for his daughters
usually takes younger men under his wing to help them but can easily get pulled back into crime again when he isn't careful
recently spent a few years inside and was released almost a year ago, and recently became a father to tobias.
navigating a distant and new relationship with carina while trying to mend what he broke with his daughters
junior director, product development at kovacs ltd
bio
born and raised in new york city, son of adrian kovac and juniper kovac
grew up in a fast-moving, high-expectation environment shaped by ambition and rapid growth
surrounded by people who are sharp, driven, and often ahead of the curve
entered the family business in a development-focused role rather than leadership
works within product development, contributing to new systems, features, and internal projects
still establishing himself within the company, with an awareness that others around him move faster or think bigger. not the most naturally technical, but understands enough to hold his position
relies more on consistency and effort than instinctive brilliance
spends most of his time in new york, moves within the same social circle through overlapping family and industry connections
known ines for a few years but recently began a relationship and is often viewed as a stable and reassuring presence
personality
friendly, approachable, and easy to be around
has a slightly softer, more grounded presence compared to others in his world
genuinely kind, but not entirely secure in himself
values stability and being someone people can rely on
likes feeling reassured
can become quietly insecure
prone to overthinking small shifts in tone, attention, or behaviour
asks questions that seem casual but are often checking for reassurance
prefers clarity and can get unsettled by anything undefined
avoids open conflict, but lets tension build internally
can become subtly controlling in ways that feel reasonable on the surface
frames concern as care, even when it starts to feel like pressure
struggles with things he can’t measure or fully understand
at his best: attentive, steady, supportive
at his worst: insecure, watchful, quietly possessive
born and raised in new orleans and comes from old southern money, long-established and quietly influential rather than showy
her grandmother was a known socialite within new orleans circles
family culture allows for independence, with each generation encouraged to pursue their own path. her mother especially encouraged travel, freedom, and creative expression from a young age
grew up surrounded by music, art, and culture rather than rigid expectation
has spent much of her adult life moving between cities and creative spaces
works across multiple mediums rather than limiting herself to one
primarily focuses on sculpture, often using raw materials like metal, clay, and found objects
also creates paintings, sketches and occasional installation pieces. her work is instinctive, layered, and evolving rather than polished or commercial
often has multiple projects ongoing at once, some unfinished or continuously reworked. has exhibited in smaller galleries and independent spaces.
has never fully engaged with elite social circles despite her background but met finn baumann in italy at a gallery opening
they connected easily and began seeing each other shortly after. the relationship has recently become more serious and lia is now finding herself more present within his social world
personality
warm, grounded, and naturally at ease in herself
carries a southern softness in tone and manner, but with a no-nonsense edge
speaks plainly, not overly filtered or performative
creative and instinct-led, follows feeling over structure
emotionally perceptive without being intrusive
not easily impressed by status, but understands it
can move through formal settings with ease when she chooses to
just as comfortable ignoring social rules if they feel unnecessary
steady presence, rarely rushed or reactive
direct when something matters, even if it cuts through the moment
values authenticity over presentation
observant in a quiet way, takes in more than she comments on
independent, used to existing on her own terms
able to sit in moments without needing to fill space
gives people room to be themselves, but doesn’t adjust who she is to match them
closed starter, bar area
max st. james & viveca st. james @gloriouswhispers
The invitation to Azul Veranda had Max St. James written all over it. He didn't bother reading most of the details before making arrangements to clear his schedule, which in truth was never particularly strict to begin with. Though he had a strong suspicion he wouldn't end up staying for the full nine days regardless. The look on his father's face when Max casually mentioned he would be unavailable for the next week roughly twelve hours before boarding a plane, had been enough to guarantee that something back in New York would suddenly become very important before long.
Still, a few days away was more than enough to keep him satisfied for now. Max leans against the bar as the bartender tops up his whiskey again, watching the amber catch the warm lighting of the room while the low buzz of conversation drifts around him, and he can already feel the tension of New York loosening its grip somewhere between the first drink and the second. No lectures here. No quiet reminders about representing the family name every time he decides to have a little fun. Just a few days where he can exist without feeling like someone is taking notes on behalf of the St. James legacy. And, judging by the collection of guests he's already spotted wandering through the resort, this week will almost certainly spiral into exactly the sort of chaotic entertainment he tends to enjoy the most.
So yes, Max is feeling rather pleased with himself. There's a restless kind of anticipation sitting under his skin as he glances idly around the bar, curiosity already sharpening into mischief while he wonders what sort of trouble this place might offer before the week is over. His eyes drift to the doors when he hears them open. And then he sees her. The shift is immediate, the quiet satisfaction draining out of his expression as his mother sweeps through the bar area. Max blinks, the freshly poured whiskey pausing halfway to his lips.
"No." the word leaves him flat and immediate, as if outright refusing the situation might somehow undo it. "See," he adds a second later, lowering the glass slowly while turning away from her with a faintly petulant edge to the movement, "now I'm just convinced you do these things on purpose, because there is absolutely no way a resort opening is more important than humanitarian aid, Mom." Max can't help but sigh, still refusing to fully look at her. "Let me guess, Dad's already on the next flight out too." he mutters, bracing himself for the answer.
'oh come on, max. that's a little bit dramatic.' is the first thing viveca says the moment she sees the disappointment pass across her son's face. that particular expression she knows well enough to recognize even before it fully settles there. she knows her boy. knows the way his mind works when something like this appears on the calendar. an invitation from the alvarezes, a private island, a pre-opening week that practically begs for trouble...and she can easily imagine the quiet laugh he must have given when he first read it, already picturing a stretch of days entirely unsupervised. unfortunately for him, the invitation was never meant for max alone. it had been addressed to the family.
at first, viveca had every intention of declining. the past few months have been relentless. meetings with the refugee coalition in geneva, a policy panel she still needs to prepare for in brussels, the sort of work that does not politely pause simply because someone has opened a resort in the caribbean. and benjamin, of course, is buried in his own obligations as usual. but then there was brunch with genevieve westwood. and genevieve, as always, had opinions. viveca resisted for approximately fifteen minutes. now here she is. the caribbean air still clings faintly to her skin from outside, warm and salted, and she allows herself a small, amused smile as she studies her son. the dramatics written plainly across his face in a way that reminds her so strongly of his father that it nearly makes her laugh.
'a girl is allowed a weekend to herself every now and then.' the grin that follows is a touch conspiratorial as she slips onto the stool beside him at the bar with effortless composure, smoothing one hand over the edge of the counter as she settles in. 'no, your father can't make it. and honestly, i probably won't be here the full nine days. that's a little excessive, even for paradise.' she inclines her head politely to the bartender and only after the request for champagne is placed does she look back to max, the faintest hint of amusement lingering in her eyes. 'i know what you're thinking and you're wrong. this isn't some elaborate plan to check in on you or keep an eye on things.' her mouth curves again, softer this time. 'gen talked me into letting my hair down, actually.'
andulkaphoto
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theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
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jacobvanloon
