Page 84 of Bid For Me

Next is a box full of all my favourite sweet treats, including a stupid number of Kinder Eggs, which makes me laugh. I think it’s some of the best chocolate around, and the bars just don’t taste the same.

The final gift is a stunning leather satchel without a designer label in sight, which feels too heavy to be empty. Inside there’s some beautiful jasmine bath products – an oil and a candle I plan to use right away – and…

“Oh my goodness!”

A small stack of faded, second-hand romance novels with titles that could only come from the bodice-ripping heyday of paperback romance. He’s gone and found a collection of all my favorite tropes-feisty heroines, rakish dukes, forbidden love. A small, surprised laugh escapes me. I guess Seb managed to see the real me after all.

At the bottom of the bag there’s one more gift, a small plain white box a little larger than the palm of my hand.

Intrigued, I slip off the lid and laugh at the message that greets me.

So you don’t have to read one handed anymore.

Sebastian Sterling-Knight has bought me a vibrator!

It’s small, fitting into the palm of my hand, and a sleek ‘C’ shape. I know exactly what this is and how it works, thanks to Candy, and a blush heats my cheeks at the thought of Seb choosing this for me.

But before I get too overwhelmed dissecting that, my phone pings, buzzing relentlessly with notifications. Frowning, I pick it up, expecting to see maybe a text from Seb, but instead I’m hit with a flurry of alerts from a news app. I tap on one headline, andthere it is, bold as day:Billionaire Heir Seen Scouring Charity Shops – Trouble with the Sterling-Knight Family?

I groan in exasperation, clicking through the article. Of course, they’ve twisted everything beyond recognition. Somehow, this little outing of his has spiraled into full-blown rumors. There’s even a picture of Seb walking out of some dusty little second-hand shop, carrying shopping bags and looking as nonchalant as ever. Apparently, his father is ‘dismayed’ by his ‘public association with bargain-bin bookshops’ and ‘concerning eccentricities.’ I snort. Eccentric? He bought me a stack of old paperbacks, not an alpaca farm.

There’s more, too – another article speculating on whether Seb’s gift was a grand romantic gesture for some mysterious girlfriend or side piece. Not once do they mention me, his fiancée. The gossip rags are practically foaming at the mouth, and all I can think is how Seb must be fuming.

A low, guilty pang tugs at my chest. I know he probably didn’t expect this fallout, and even if he did, he never intended for it to blow up like this. I quickly open our text thread and type out a message.

You okay? Looks like you’ve become tabloid fodder over some second-hand books. How’s your father handling it?

I hit send, half expecting Seb to take hours to reply. Instead, my phone pings almost instantly.

Seb

I’m fine. Father’s not thrilled, but what’s new? Did you like the books and other gifts?

I glance at the neat stack on my coffee table, the ribbon still tied neatly around them. For a moment, I imagine him wandering through that shop, sifting through countless titles just to find these. The thought warms me more than it should.

I loved them. You didn’t have to do that.

His reply is immediate.

Seb

I wanted to.

My chest tightens, and I don’t know how to respond. There’s a sincerity in his words that throws me off balance, so I settle for the safe route.

Thank you.

There’s no reply this time, and I don’t expect one. I set my phone down and turn my attention back to the books. Untying the ribbon, I pull the stack apart, letting my fingers glide overthe soft, worn covers. Each one is perfect, from the familiar titles I used to adore, to the ones I haven’t read but already know I’ll love.

I find his note tucked beneath the stack. The handwriting is bold but precise, like everything Seb does.

For the nights when you need an escape.

The simple sentiment feels heavier than it should. I fold the note carefully and place it back on the table before I can let my emotions spiral.

Later, as I’m curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and one of the new books, my phone buzzes again. I expect it to be another headline notification, but it’s a message from Candy.

Candy