Page 103 of Bid For Me
CHAPTER FORTY
Seb
My mind isa mess and my chest is tight, as I walk without direction, just needing to get away from the house.
From everything.
I’m not ready to face her, not after everything that happened tonight. Not after seeing the way she looked at me, the walls going up the second my father had started his little game.
It’s more than that – something deeper, something darker, gnawing at me.
I need to figure this out, but I can’t do it right now. I can’t think with her eyes on me, watching me like she’s expecting something.
So, I walk. Until eventually, I’m stepping into a familiar car-park, the neon sign ofFor Meglowing in the distance. The club’s always been my refuge, a place to think, to escape, even if only for a few hours. I know I’m not going to find answers here, but maybe the noise, the energy, the anonymity of it all will give me some space to breathe. I can’t risk being seen anywhere else, tonight of all nights, especially.
Inside, the music is sultry and the atmosphere thick with anticipation. It’s a sharp contrast to the tension back home, and I can almost taste the difference. My shoulders loosen as I walk up to the bar, the polished wood gleaming under the low lighting.
“Whiskey, please,” I mutter to the bartender, not bothering to look up, not bothering to ask for anything fancy. I don’t need frills right now. I need something that burns, something that’ll take the edge off, even if only for a little while.
The bartender turns to pour my drink and I sip it as soon as it’s in front of me, the burn slipping down my throat. It doesn’t help. Nothing helps.
“You look like you’re trying to drink away your problems,” a familiar voice says.
I glance up to find Faith0 staring at me. Her dark hair is pulled back into a messy bun, her apron tied loosely around her waist. She gives me a small, tentative smile, but there’s no real warmth behind it – just professionalism.
“Don’t think that’s gonna work,” she adds, her voice quiet but cutting through the noise of the club as she nods at my almost empty glass.
I give a half-shrug, trying to keep the scowl off my face. “Doesn't have to work. Just needs to take the edge off. The two drink limit here isn’t going to help with what I need to forget.”
She raises an eyebrow, but doesn't argue, turning back to serve another customer. I finish my drink in one more gulp and order another when she’s free.
The burn still doesn't help. It doesn’t numb anything.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Asher:Club. Now.
I don’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, Asher slides onto the barstool next to me, a devil-may-care grin spreading across his face. Was he already here? It wouldn’t surprise me.I know he left the reception before we did, and he comes here pretty regularly.
His eyes are sharp, always searching, always on the lookout for something – or someone – new to entertain him.
“What’s going on, man?” Asher asks, throwing his arm across the back of the barstool as he eyes Faith, who’s moving to the other end of the bar. “Couldn’t handle your beautiful wife?”
I can’t help the growl that rises in my throat. It’s not aimed at him, but at the way his words twist everything. I don’t even know why I texted him. Maybe because it’s easier to be around someone who doesn’t ask questions, someone who’s more interested in the distraction than the truth.
“Not in the mood,” I reply, taking another sip of my whiskey.
Asher raises an eyebrow. “Not in the mood for what? She’s beautiful, man. Stunning. I thought you’d be more than happy to head back to that big, fancy house with her. Finally make good on that contract of yours.”
There’s an edge to his voice, something teasing but with a bite to it. It’s not lost on me, but I don’t react. Instead, I just stare into my glass, the remnants of the amber liquid swirling as I turn it in my hand.
“You should have stayed there. That’s what you should’ve done,” Asher presses, his voice lowering as he watches Faith.
She’s busy with another customer now, a little too distracted to notice. But I can see how she’s avoiding his gaze, how her shy glances dart away whenever he catches her eye.
What is going on between them? It’s so obvious they’re interested in one another, but for once, Asher is taking it slow. Excruciatingly slow. And if he keeps giving me shit about abandoning my wife, I’ll drop him in it with Faith.
“What do you need, mate?” He eventually asks, sighing.
“More whiskey?” I suggest, hopefully. He snorts and orders two whiskies when he manages to catch Faith’s eye. She silentlyserves him and he thanks her, but as she goes to leave, he reaches out and gently grasps her wrist. She freezes.