Page 66 of Bid For Me
“I’m good, thanks,” I mutter, pushing my drink away from me slightly. “I’m not interested.”
She pauses, a flicker of confusion crossing her face before she shrugs and walks off. I let out a deep sigh, wondering if I’ve always been this emotionally distant with women. It’s different with Elle. With her, it feelsreal, even if it’s just a fantasy. I can’t see myself taking any of these women ice skating, or dog walking in the local park.
Can I be the one to break the wall between us down? Even when everything is so complicated, so fucked up by the contract and my father’s expectations?
More time passes, and several women approach me throughout the night, all of them offering me the same thing: attention, smiles, and the promise of something easy. But none of it matters. Every time they get too close, I think of Elle. I think of the weekend we spent together, her laughter, her warmth, the moments when she dropped her guard and let me in. And now, with her pulling away from me like this, I can’t do it. I can’t be here, surrounded by these women, pretending that this emptiness can be filled by anyone else.
I watch a couple dance on the floor, the woman draped in her partner’s arms, moving with the music. For a second, I think of Elle, how we never danced, how we never had the chance to justbe.
She’s pulling away, and I don’t know how to stop it.
I down the rest of my drink and motion for another, which will take me to my allowed limit here tonight, my mind still lost in the whirlwind of everything that’s happened. She’s slipping through my fingers. Everything I’ve built, the promises I’ve made to myself, are crumbling, and I don’t know how to hold it all together.
This club, this life – it’s never felt more hollow. I used to come here to drown out the noise, to find something to make me feel alive. But tonight, it all feels pointless. Every woman who approaches me, every drink I have, every laugh I share with the regulars – they don’t matter.
Elle matters. And right now, I don’t know how to reach her.
I sit there for a long time, watching the bodies move on the dance floor, watching the people around me lose themselves in fleeting pleasure. But all I can think of is Elle. Her face, her voice, the way she shuts me out even though I know – deep down – that she feels something.
I just wish I knew what to do about it.
But all I can do is sit here, helpless, hoping that I’m not too late to fix this.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Elle
The morning lightfilters in through my window, soft and hazy. I’m not ready to face today. I’m not ready to leave the small space I’ve carved out for myself, but here I am. The sound of a knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts, and I glance at the clock. It’s early, much too early for someone to be here. I didn’t buzz anyone in and Candy has her own key.
I stand up and walk toward the door, my mind swirling with the uncertainty of the day ahead.
When I open it, I’m surprised to find Seb standing there, holding two cups of coffee and a small pastry bag, the smell of which sets my mouth watering. His presence is calm, unassuming, and oddly comforting. His eyes flicker to mine, and for a brief moment, there’s no mask, no business arrangement between us – just him, looking at me with quiet understanding.
“I brought you coffee,” he says, holding out one of the cups. “And a cherry Danish. I know it was once your favourite.”
I’m taken aback, the simple gesture somehow cutting through the tension I’ve been holding all morning. CherryDanish...of course he would remember. I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, accepting the coffee and pastry. “It still is. I’m a sucker for anything cherry.”
For a moment, it feels like I’m not trapped in a world of contracts and expectations. It’s just me and Seb, and this small act of kindness.
He steps inside without asking, but I don’t mind. His presence is warm, his usual controlled energy softened this morning. “I’ll give you a moment,” he says, looking around my apartment, noticing the boxes and the faint sense of unease in the air. “I’ll let the movers get started. You take your time.”
I watch him move out of the way as the removal men begin packing up my things. There’s a sense of finality in the air, and I try to push down the sadness creeping up my throat. This isn’t my home anymore. I knew this day would come, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Seb stands by, patient, while I lock up the flat for the last time. Every step I take away from the place I’ve lived for years feels like I’m losing a part of myself. My thoughts spiral, but I keep my face calm, trying not to let the emotional weight of the situation show.
When I’m finally ready, I turn to Seb, who’s been quietly waiting, hands in the pockets of his worn leather jacket, a silent support. His expression is soft, his eyes searching mine for any hint of hesitation. “I know this is hard,” he says quietly, his voice steady and kind. “But this isn’t forever, Elle. You don’t have to give up your home. We’ll make it work.”
I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. His words, meant to soothe, only stir something deeper within me. He’s being thoughtful, so much more than I expected. And yet, I can’t let myself soften too much. I can’t let him in, not whenwe’re standing on the edge of something neither of us fully understands.
“I know,” I reply, my voice hoarse but firm. “We’ll figure it out.”
Seb smiles, but there’s something pained behind his eyes. “We will. I promise.”
We make our way to his sleek sports car parked outside, the kind of car that matches the cold, calculated image his family has built around him. It’s fast, sharp – everything about it screams power. Everything about it makes me feel small.
The drive to the Sterling-Knight estate is quiet. Eventually we approach the sprawling mansion, set back behind iron gates standing tall, like a barrier between the life I’ve known and the one I’m being thrust into. I’m not ready for this, even though my parents have raised me for this moment my whole life. But as Seb turns to me, his expression unreadable, I know there’s no going back.