Page 82 of Bid For Me
Jessica is in her element, rattling off details about flowers, cake designs, and colour schemes with the precision of a drill sergeant. Elle listens carefully, her head tilted slightly, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her teacup.
What amazes me isn’t Jessica’s relentless enthusiasm – it’s Elle.
She handles Jessica with an effortless blend of grace and quiet strength. Even when Jessica suggests something absurdly ostentatious, like gold-leafed centerpieces, Elle gently steers the conversation toward something more understated. She doesn’t back down, but she also doesn’t let the conversation turn into a battle.
She’s incredible.
I can’t stop watching her, mesmerized by the way she navigates these moments with such poise. It’s not easy being under my father’s roof, surrounded by his expectations and now Jessica’s meticulous plans. But Elle doesn’t wilt. She adapts, defends her ground when it matters, and somehow still manages to look calm and in control.
I don’t know when it happened – this shift in me. But watching her now, her long lashes lowered as she scans the wedding itinerary Jessica handed her, I realise I’ve fallen for her. Hard.
It’s not just about how she looks, though god knows I could lose myself in those stunning blue eyes of hers for hours. It’s everything. The way she carries herself, the way she handled herself at the engagement party, gracious to the press while staying sharp enough to keep my ex from making a scene. The way she let her guard down when she was tipsy with Candy, her laughter free and unrestrained as I carried her back to the mansion from the limo.
And then there was that night.
I can still see her, sitting on the edge of the bed, letting me take care of her. She’d trusted me in a way I hadn’t expected, and it wrecked me. She looked so vulnerable without her makeup, her defenses gone.
I didn’t deserve that trust. Not yet. But I want to.
“Sebastian?”
My father’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a blade. I glance toward the doorway, where he’s standing with his usual air of authority, arms crossed and expression cool.
“I’m heading to the city for meetings,” he announces, his gaze shifting briefly to Elle before returning to me. “Make sure Jessica gets whatever she needs to keep this wedding on schedule.”
I nod, biting back a retort. I hate how he speaks about Elle, as if she’s just another piece of the puzzle he’s orchestrating.
“Of course,” I say evenly, not wanting to make a scene in front of Elle.
He strides out of the room, his presence leaving a chill in the air. Jessica, blissfully unfazed, launches into another discussion about floral arrangements.
Elle handles it all with her usual composure, but I can see the faint tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curl just a little too tightly around her teacup.
When Jessica finally leaves, Elle lets out a soft sigh, leaning back in her chair.
“You handled that well,” I say, setting my coffee down.
She glances at me, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Well enough to keep your father from insisting on diamond-encrusted napkin rings, at least.”
I chuckle, but her words make my chest ache. She shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. She deserves better than my father’s scrutiny, better than Jessica’s constant demands.
“Elle…” I start, but she cuts me off with a gentle shake of her head.
“Don’t,” she says quietly. “I’m fine. Really.”
And just like that, she’s back to being untouchable, her walls firmly in place. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to be fine, that she doesn’t have to handle everything on her own. But I know she won’t hear it – not yet.
Later, after she excuses herself to check on more wedding details, I find myself wandering through the house, restless and frustrated. I want to do something for her, something that shows her how much she means to me, even if I can’t find the right words to say it yet.
That’s when it hits me.
The wedding gift.
It has to be perfect – something that reflects her, something that’s just for her. And the wedding night…god, I want it to be everything she’s ever dreamed of. I want her to feel cherished, adored, worshipped.
I head to my study, pulling out my laptop and jotting down ideas. A gift that’s meaningful, intimate, and uniquely Elle. A night that’s unforgettable, filled with everything she’s ever wanted, but has been too afraid to ask for.
As I plan, my thoughts drift back to the way she looked the other night, curled up in the library with one of the dusty old classics from the shelves. She’d been frowning at it, muttering under her breath about missing her second-hand romance novels, and I couldn’t help but smile.