Page 63 of Bid For Me
“Thank you, Sir,” I repeat automatically, the words tasting hollow in my mouth.
Seb’s hand rests on mine again as his father exits, but I barely feel it, the weight of his words and his expectations sinking in, dragging me under.
As soon as Alexander leaves, I stand abruptly, my legs shaking beneath me.
“You were perfect,” Seb says, his voice low, his eyes warm as they meet mine.
I force a smile, my heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid. “Just doing my part,” I say lightly.
He reaches for my hand, but I pull away, pretending to adjust my bag.
“Let’s go,” I say, my voice firmer than I intend.
Seb hesitates, his brows furrowing slightly, but he doesn’t argue.
We walk in silence, the distance between us feeling wider than ever, every step I take an echo of the deadline we’re now staring down. Two weeks. Two weeks. Two. Weeks.
A fortnight of living under his father’s roof, trying to keep up the charade of being a blissfully in love engaged couple, under intense scrutiny twenty-four seven.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Once again, Seb holds the car door open for me, and I slide into the plush leather seat, clutching my bag tightly in my lap. The contract weighs heavier than its physical presence, a silent reminder of what I’m walking into. He rounds the car and gets in beside me, his presence a quiet storm of tension and unreadable emotions.
The car pulls away from the curb, the hum of the engine once again filling the silence between us. I stare out the window again, watching the city blur into a haze of glass and steel. He’s not looking at me, but I can feel his gaze lingering, heavy and searching.
“Did you read it?” he asks finally, his voice low.
I don’t turn to him. “Every word.”
“And?”
I tilt my head, offering him a tight smile. “It’s thorough.”
His brow furrows, and I catch the faintest flicker of something in his expression – concern? Regret? I can’t be sure. “Elle, I?—”
“Let’s not do this,” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. I take a breath, softening my tone as I dig the contract out of my bag and hand it over. “Seb, I signed it. Isn’t that enough?”
He doesn’t reply right away, his jaw tightening as he glances quickly out of his window. “It’s not about the contract,” he mutters, almost to himself.
“Isn’t it?” I counter, my voice quiet but firm.
His head snaps back to me, his eyes narrowing slightly. But instead of pressing the issue, he lets out a heavy sigh and leans back in his seat, his expression hardening into something distant and unreadable.
Good. Let him put up walls. It’s easier this way.
By the time the car pulls up outside my apartment the silence is unbearable.
“Elle—” Seb begins but he’s interrupted by his phone beeping.
He looks down at it, frowns, and swipes to open his messages. For a moment there’s silence and then a look of fury flashes over his face like lightning.
“Seb? What is it?” I ask despite myself.
“Nothing,” he mutters.
“Tell me. We’re in this together, right?”
There’s a pause that lasts so long I start to wonder if he’ll ever reply, but then he reluctantly confesses, “My father has ordered me to stay at your house tonight.”