Page 73 of Bid For Me
Elle
It’s beenthree days since I moved into the ice mansion and Alexander announced our engagement to the world. The press coverage was fantastic – exactly what he wanted – but dealing with the fallout from my family has been anything but. My mother won’t stop calling, demanding details, and my father keeps trying to sound thrilled while sneaking in jabs about how I’ve ‘hit the jackpot’. Aidan’s been a downright arsehole about the whole thing, but that’s to be expected.
Still, it’s exhausting, and the longer I’m stuck in this house, the more suffocated I feel.
I’m going stir-crazy.
Sebastian is being kind, giving me space, which only makes everything worse. Every time he walks into a room, my heart skips in a way it has no business skipping. I need normalcy. I need to go back to work, bury myself in something that’s mine.
Over breakfast, I decide to broach the topic. I’ve been careful not to rock the boat, but I’m done tiptoeing.
“I think I’ll head back to work today,” I announce as casually as I can, glancing up from my cup of tea to where Alexander is reading the Financial Times at the head of the table.
He doesn’t look up, his fingers turning a page with deliberate slowness. “That won’t be possible, Elle.”
My stomach twists. “Excuse me?”
Now he looks up, fixing me with that steely gaze that’s impossible to read. “You’ve got appointments today. Bridal gown fittings. We’re running out of time, and the Sterling-Knight bride must look the part.”
My fork stills halfway to my mouth. I glance at Seb, who’s sitting across from me, his brow furrowing. “Appointments?”
Alexander folds his paper neatly, resting it on the table. “I’ve arranged for you to meet with several top designers. This wedding is going to be the event of the season, and there’s no room for error. You’ll thank me later.”
Anger flares in my chest, hot and sharp. I set my fork down carefully, refusing to let it show on my face. “I have responsibilities, Mr. Sterling-Knight. I can’t just drop everything because you think a dress fitting is more important than my job.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “You can, and you will. I’ve already made the arrangements.”
Seb shifts in his seat, and I can see the frustration in his expression. “Father?—”
“Stay out of this, Sebastian,” Alexander interrupts smoothly. “Elle is part of this family now, and she’ll conduct herself accordingly.”
My hands clench beneath the table, my polite smile barely holding. “I’ll need someone to come with me,” I say, forcing my voice to stay even.
Alexander waves a hand dismissively. “Take the street urchin with you. Isn’t she your closest friend? I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.”
Rage fires through my veins at the dismissive and downright rude way he speaks about my best friend, while a voice in the back of my head wonders how he knows about all of that. But I nod stiffly, my appetite completely gone. “Fine.”
Without waiting for a response, I excuse myself and leave the dining room, my heart pounding with frustration. The nerve of that man!
In my room, I grab my phone and call Candy. She picks up on the second ring, her voice bright and cheerful. “Hey, babe! How’s life in the frozen palace?”
I groan, collapsing onto the bed. “Don’t even start. Alexander has booked me into some ridiculous wedding dress fittings today. I need backup. Please say you’re free.”
Candy laughs softly. “Backup for wedding dresses? Babe, you know I live for this. Well, for you, anyway. Of course, I’m coming. Text me the deets.”
Relief floods through me, and I smile for the first time all morning. “Thank you. I owe you big time.”
“You always do,” she teases. “Now go get yourself ready. You’re not showing up to couture fittings looking like a hobo.”
I laugh, feeling a little lighter. “See you soon.”
By the time Candy arrives, I’ve managed to pull myself together. I’m wearing a fitted cream blouse tucked into high-waisted black trousers, paired with sleek nude pumps. My hair is up in a loose chignon, and I’ve kept my makeup soft and natural. It’s understated but polished – exactly the image Alexander expects.
Candy, of course, sweeps into the foyer like a whirlwind of colour and chaos when I open the door. She’s in a bright pink blazer and jeans, her light curls framing her face in wildwaves. “Ready to play angel?” she quips, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
I sigh, grabbing my bag. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The fittings are being held in an exclusive bridal boutique in Mayfair. As soon as we arrive, we’re ushered into a private salon, filled with racks of breathtaking gowns. The space is luxurious, with plush chairs, gilded mirrors, and crystal chandeliers, casting soft light over the dresses.