Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elle
I’m incredibly grumpy when I wake up the next day. More so when I stumble to the fridge and am greeted by the makings for smoked salmon blinis and the bottle of champagne I chilled, in eager anticipation of this brand new dawn.
So I wanted to celebrate the morning after, sue me.
Now, the only thing I’ve got to celebrate is having a liquid breakfast before ten AM, as I pop the cork and swig more than a little from the bottle.
Fucking Sebastian.
Why couldn’t my brother’s best friend just fuck me and do us all a favour? He’s notorious for one night stands, and that was exactly what I was hoping for. One night. One amazing, kink-filled night where my sexual partner wouldn’t treat me with kid gloves and try to give me hearts and flowers.
Fuck him.
Fuck his two million pound bid.
No pussy is worth that – not even mine.
I groan when my phone beeps knowing that it’ll be Candy texting to see how last night went. How do I even begin to explain to her what went down. Or what didn’t go down, depending on how you look at it.
But when I glance at my phone I see the message isn’t from Candy at all, but from Seb.
Fucker. I forgot he got my number from Aiden a couple of years back and I’d saved his contact in case of emergencies when my brother was being almost as big of a dick as he was to Candy.
Seb
Meet me for breakfast. We need to talk.
I snap a selfie of me drinking from the champagne bottle and send my reply:
Already had breakfast, thanks.
Before immediately regretting it.
Nice move, Elle. Really classy. I sigh. That’ll be Sebastian. Always bringing out the worst in me.
Seb
Don’t get rid of that bottle when it’s empty, I can think of another use for it…
Ugh what a cad. I don’t deign to reply, but I do immediately discard my drink. It hurts, but I pour the entire contents of the bottle down the drain – goodbye golden bubbles of happiness – the small mercy is that this was only a relatively cheap bottle of champagne, at a couple of hundred pounds for the bottle, versus something that cost thousands.
The whole idea was silly anyway. Having a special breakfast and champagne to mark my first morning as not being a virgin anymore. I sigh and huff at my own ridiculousness.
I’m just contemplating whether I can face the smoked salmon, when my phone buzzes again.
Seb
Meet me for a real breakfast.
Delete that photo.
Seb
Meet me for breakfast and I will.
Scouts’ honour
Ugh. Fine. Where and when? And you better keep your word!
Seb
My word is my bond.
Nice, paraphrasing Shakespeare now are we? Who are you trying to impress?
Seb
I think you’ll find it’s a direct quote from Hook, actually. Love that film.
As nice as this little pop culture chat is, I need you to delete that photo, so you best tell me where and when I’m meeting you. I need to get ready.
Seb
Come as you are. Not going anywhere swanky. I’ll send a car in twenty minutes.
That’s not long enough.
Seb? That’s not enough time! I need to get ready.
Damn you, Sebastian!
Once I know that the shithead isn’t going to reply or acquiesce my request for more time, I race from the kitchen to my bathroom to get ready, cursing him under my breath the entire time.
I brush my teeth and have the world’s fastest wash because I definitely don’t have time for a shower and a blow out, and then set to begin my skincare routine in double-quick time. I hate having to rush. Hate getting flustered.
But I loathe being late.
I race to my walk-in closet and snatch up my off-white Chanel tweed shift dress and matching blazer with black piping, a nude La Perla lingerie set, and my Chanel quilted pumps and matching handbag. My closet is full of designer gear, but Chanel has always been my battle armour. And brunch with Sebastian, especially after last night, requires more armour than ever.
With minutes to spare before the car arrives, I have just enough time to run a brush through my hair and don my jewellery, stuffing my makeup bag and mirror into my bag to do on the way to whatever restaurant Seb’s booked.
I get a notification on my phone that the car is waiting outside – because beeping a horn would be considered so gauche – and I’m out the door in an instant. I can’t stand making people wait for me, drivers included.
“Good morning, Miss Elle,” Dave, the driver, says with a polite tilt of his head as he opens the rear door for me.
He’s not my usual driver, but it looks like Seb uses the same car company as I do, so I’m familiar with this guy.
“Good morning,” I reply, sliding elegantly into the backseat and crossing my ankles delicately before doing my seatbelt.
Once we’re moving, I set to putting my face on. I’m more than experienced at doing my makeup in the back of cars, and unlike a regular sedan, this ride is so smooth it’s like we’re barely moving and so the end result is flawless.
“We’re here, Miss,” Dave tells me as we pull into a gravel parking lot.
Frowning, I look out of the window at the unfamiliar building in front of me. It’s long, one storey, and gleaming with chrome accents. A bright neon sign in bubblegum pink declares The Ok Diner.
Ok? Okay doesn’t sound like a very convincing accolade. Come eat with us – we’re okay. Hardly fills one with confidence.
And a diner? What the hell was Seb thinking?
Too embarrassed to wait for the driver to open my door, I exit the vehicle and stride across the parking lot, as gracefully as I can in heels on loose gravel. I’m gritting my teeth to keep the curse words from slipping out every step of the way.
Pushing open the glass door, a little bell tinkles overhead to announce my arrival. The scent of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee hits me as I step into the diner. It’s a quaint place, decked out in retro Americana décor with pink vinyl booths, chequered floors, and a mishmash of retro neon lights. There’s a jukebox in the corner playing classic rock music which fills the air, mingling with the chatter of the few diners scattered around.
I scan the room, my eyes landing on a familiar figure sitting at a booth near the back. Sebastian. He’s dressed surprisingly casually in a white T-shirt and ripped designer jeans, looking irritatingly handsome as always. Possibly more so, out of his usual designer suits, especially with the bad boy black leather jacket slung around his shoulders.
That shouldn’t make me shiver with desire, but for some reason, it does.
He raises a hand in greeting as he spots me, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I make my way over to him, feeling out of place in this setting but determined not to show it, and he stands as I approach.
“Good morning, Elle. You look stunning as always,” he says smoothly, gesturing for me to sit down.
I narrow my eyes at him but take the seat, arranging my Chanel-clad self primly at the formica table.
“What’s this all about, Seb? You better have a good explanation for dragging me out here,” I say, not bothering with pleasantries.
Seb chuckles and signals for the waitress to bring us some menus. As she walks over, pencil tucked behind her ear and order pad in hand, Seb leans back in his seat, all casual charm. The waitress just eats it up, flirting up a storm with him, before walking away with more sway in her hips than she had on the way over here.
“Let’s just say I wanted to talk somewhere a bit more...down to earth. Away from all the champagne and caviar,” he replies cryptically.
I raise an eyebrow at him, then glance at the laminated menu in front of me. The selection is basic – eggs, pancakes, burgers – nothing like the gourmet meals I’m used to. I bet Seb chose this place thinking I’d freak out and throw a fit. But the joke’s on him because Candy and I used to go to an old diner a bit like this one when we were younger. We’d stuff our faces with pancakes and syrup and Freak Shakes, with zero regard for calories or our complexions.
The waitress returns five minutes later. We place our orders, Seb going for a classic bacon and eggs, me reluctantly opting for a fruit salad to keep up appearances, and both of us opting for orange juice and black coffee. Then there’s an awkward silence between us.
“The photo?” I prompt him after a beat.
He sighs, pulls out his phone and unlocks it, before handing it to me.
“Be my guest, you do the honours. I doubt you’d trust my word anyway.”
“Ah, but your word is your bond, remember?” I snark, flicking back through our messages to delete the offending image.
If something like that got out, my reputation would be ruined, and my family would be disappointed. I wouldn’t go as far as to say they’d disown me or anything dramatic like that, but they’d definitely make their displeasure known. I can do without any more lectures, thank you very much.
I quickly check Seb’s camera roll, but discover that he never saved the image, which surprises me.
Satisfied, I lock the screen and slide the phone back over to him with a nod.
Seb clears his throat and leans in, his expression more serious now. “Elle, I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he starts, his eyes searching mine for a reaction. My heart skips a beat at the mention of last night, memories of heated and harsh words exchanged flooding back.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever Seb has to say. “What about last night?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.
Seb runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, looking almost nervous for once. “I know things got...intense between us,” he begins carefully, “and I just wanted to apologise for my part in it. I shouldn’t have said some of the things I did.”
I raise an eyebrow in surprise. Sebastian Sterling-Knight, apologising? This is definitely a first. But there’s a sincerity in his eyes that I can’t ignore. Is there more to him than just the charming playboy facade he wears so well?
“I appreciate that, Seb,” I reply softly, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders at his words. Maybe this unexpected brunch at The Ok Diner was Seb’s way of showing me a different side of himself, away from the glitz and glamour of our usual hangouts.
Seb smiles at me, a genuine smile that reaches his eyes. “I value our…friendship, Elle. And I don’t want one stupid argument to ruin what we have.” His words are simple but they hold a sincerity that warms my heart, though I wouldn’t go as far as to say we were friends per se .
I nod, feeling a genuine smile tugging at my lips. Maybe there is more to Sebastian than his fuckboy billionaire bad boy reputation. But that doesn’t change the fact that there’s still the matter of the auction…and the contract hanging over our heads.
“I appreciate that, Seb, I do. But where do we stand with the…auction?” I can’t bring myself to say the word contract out loud. It sounds so…seedy.
“It’s complicated, Elle.”
“So uncomplicate things for me, Seb. I thought it was pretty simple. You paid for a…date with me, and should have cashed that in last night. If you’d done what was expected, we would both be going our separate ways by now.”
“I’m not going to fuck you in some sex club, no matter how classy and upmarket it is.”
“I don’t need hearts and flowers, Seb. I literally just wanted one night with someone who knew what the…what they were doing.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrow, his expression becoming more and more intense as he leans over the table towards me, voice low, and says, “And what do you think I know about? I’m not a fucking amateur, Elle. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
My pulse quickens as a mix of anger and arousal courses through me. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have him take control in a more intimate setting. But I don’t dare let those thoughts show on my face.
“So what’s the problem then?”
“You want me to have sex with you? Is that what you’re saying?” He counters, ignoring my question.
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. “No, not exactly. I just want the contract fulfilled. That’s all. I don’t know what the rules are exactly, Sebastian, but as far as I’m concerned, you paid for one night with me and that’s what I expect.”
He looks at me, his expression softening a bit. “Alright, Elle. You want a high-class escort experience? I can give you that. But I won’t be sleeping with you.” He pauses, and I can tell he’s thinking about offering some sort of concession. I’m not interested in anything he has to offer.
“Seb—”
“Elle,” he mimics with a smirk.
“Don’t do that,” I bristle, then sigh. Why does he always get under my skin? “So you paid to sleep with me, but you’re refusing to. Are we done then? Call it good and move on – separately.”
“No. You’re mine until the contract is fulfilled.”
“What do you mean yours ?”
“I mean, you can’t date anyone else until we’ve slept together.”
“I don’t want to date anyone! I just wanted my virginity gone so I could enjoy myself at ‘For Me’.”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean no?”
“You’re not going to a sex club, Elle. What would your family say?”
“Believe it or not, I wasn’t planning on announcing it to them.”
“But if it got out, Elle, it would ruin them.”
His words sit heavy in my gut and I know that he’s right. But still. It’s not fair. I’m sure they know Aiden’s a member. Why does there have to be double standards for us?
“So what…you just expect me to stay a virgin forever?” I hiss quietly.
“No. I have a plan.”
I clench my jaw and take a deep breath, trying to draw in patience and determination.
“So did I,” I mutter bitterly, my voice tinged with frustration that I’m unable to hide. “And you…messed it up.”
I can feel the furrow forming between my brows, and I purse my lips in irritation.
“You’re really cute when you’re trying not to swear.” Seb grins, a playful glint in his eyes.
I shoot him a withering glare, my eyes narrowing in disbelief.
“Don’t change the topic.”
He leans in, his expression serious yet somewhat teasing, trying to lighten the mood.
“Look Elle, the way I see it, your needs are two-fold, as are mine.” He gestures with his hands, emphasising his point. “If you give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want.”
My eyebrows raise in surprise, my posture shifting slightly as I consider his proposition.
“Two fold?” I echo with a mix of curiosity and scepticism lacing my tone.
“You want the contract gone, right?” I nod eagerly. “And your innocence.”
I pull a sour face, my lip curling with disgust at his statement, even though he’s correct. “Don’t call it that. It’s such a stupid saying. Just because I’m yet to have sex, I’m hardly innocent. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Seb’s eyes flash with surprise and then a wicked gleam takes over his golden orbs. “Well you just got a lot more interesting, Aiden’s baby sister.”
“Don’t call me that either,” I snap before conceding, “Yes, you’re right, my needs are two fold.” A twinge of resignation creeps in. “What do you need in return?”
Sebastian leans forward, his expression earnest yet determined.
“I need a girlfriend.”
I raise an eyebrow, processing his request. “For an event?” I inquire, a hint of relief in my tone.
Sebastian shakes his head, his gaze unwavering. “Long term.”
“How long are we talking?” I ask carefully, trying to gauge the extent of his proposition.
“Six to eight weeks,” he replies, his voice steady.
“Okay. I can probably do that. And you’ll sleep with me at the end?” I blurt out, the words sounding bolder than intended.
I’ve waited this long, two more months won’t kill me, I reason silently.
“Six to eight weeks dating,” Sebastian clarifies, his tone serious. “With our engagement announced immediately, and the wedding in two months’ time.”
My jaw hits the table top, shock coursing through me. “What?”
“I’ll sleep with you…” he declares, his gaze unwavering. “If you’ll be my wife.”