Page 71 of Bid For Me
Elle steps closer, her voice dropping to a low, private tone. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to rewrite your role in Seb’s life. He’s mine now, and I don’t share.”
Her words, a mirror of mine to her, turn me on. But it’s the possessiveness in her voice sends a bolt of heat through me, and I have to clench my fists to keep from pulling her into my arms and taking her right here and now for them all to see that she is mine. Amber pales, clearly outmatched, and with a tight smile, she excuses herself.
As soon as she’s gone, Elle turns back to me, her expression cool and composed. But I can see the fire in her eyes, the quiet triumph.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur, my voice low.
She shrugs lightly, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “Maybe not. But I wanted to.”
I don’t think. I just act.
Reaching for her waist, I pull her close, my lips crashing against hers in a kiss that’s more claim than anything else. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but I don’t care. Let them see. Let them know.
When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and her eyes are wide with surprise.
“Seb,” she whispers, her voice unsteady.
“You’re incredible,” I murmur, my forehead resting against hers. “Absolutely fucking incredible.”
For the rest of the evening, I can’t keep my hands off her. A touch here, a brush there, my fingers tracing the elegant line of her neck whenever I can steal a moment. The evening feels like a dream, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels like us.
The evening hums around us, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as my father steps to the center of the ballroom, commanding attention like only Alexander Sterling-Knight can. A silver tray appears in a waiter’s hand, and champagne flutes are quickly distributed among the guests. The soft clink of glasses quiets as everyone turns toward the makeshift stage at the front of the room.
Alexander is a man who thrives in the spotlight, and tonight is no exception. His tailored black tuxedo is immaculate, his smile perfectly calibrated to exude warmth and authority. He looks out at the gathered crowd, his expression one of smug satisfaction.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the success of our family’s ventures, but also a new chapter for the Sterling-Knight legacy.”
The wordlegacylands like a hammer, and I resist the urge to shoot him a pointed look. Elle, standing close to me, tightens her grip on my arm, her nails grazing my skin lightly – a subtle reminder to behave.
“My son, Sebastian, has long been known for his...independent spirit,” Alexander continues, his tone light but laced with meaning. A ripple of polite laughter follows. “But as every father dreams, there comes a time when a man finds the one who anchors him, inspires him, and makes him whole.”
He gestures toward us, and the spotlight shifts, bathing Elle and me in its glow. I feel her stiffening slightly beside me, but her expression remains poised, a soft smile gracing her lips as she meets the gaze of the room.
“It is with great pride and joy that I announce the engagement of my son, Sebastian, to the remarkable Ms Rialdi.”
A burst of applause fills the room, mingling with the flashes of cameras as the press scrambles to capture the moment. I turn to Elle, and for a fleeting second, it’s just us. I see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but she hides it well, tilting her head up to meet my gaze with practiced ease.
I lean in, brushing my lips against her temple, a gesture that feels both natural and calculated. The applause swells, and the cameras go wild.
Alexander raises his glass, his voice cutting through the noise. “To commitment. To partnerships and possibilities. And to a future full of untold potential.”
“Don’t forget love, father,” I call out with a chuckle that makes his jaw tick. The room laughs. His eyes narrow as he dips his chin in reluctant acknowledgement.
“To love,” the room echoes, glasses lifting in unison.
Elle’s hand tightens on my arm again as we clink glasses with those nearest us. Her smile doesn’t waver, but I can feel the tension radiating off her.
The rest of the evening is a blur of handshakes, congratulatory toasts, and endless photos. Elle and I are guided from one corner of the room to the next, pausing for staged moments that will no doubt dominate tomorrow’s headlines.
As the night winds down, the crowd begins to thin, leaving only a few stragglers and the ever-watchful press. Elle leans toward me, her voice low. “I think I’ve smiled more tonight than I have in my entire life.”
I chuckle softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. “You were perfect.”
Her lips quirk into a half-smile, and for a moment, I see a hint of the woman behind the mask. “So were you,” she says quietly.
Alexander approaches then, his presence as commanding as ever. “Sebastian, Elle,” he says, his tone brisk but pleased. “A successful evening, I’d say.”
“Of course,” I reply smoothly, my arm still around Elle’s waist.