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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Elle

It’s been three 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 wild waves. “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.

Candy whistles low under her breath. “Well, they’re not messing around, are they?”

I sigh, already exhausted. “Apparently not.”

The assistant – a tall, elegant woman with a severe bob – steps forward, her eyes sharp as she appraises me. “Miss Rialdi,” she says, her tone clipped but polite. “I’m Claudia. We’ve prepared several options for you to try.”

Candy elbows me lightly. “Miss Rialdi,” she whispers with a smirk. “How fancy.”

I shoot her a look, but don’t reply as Claudia directs me toward the dressing room.

The first gown is stunning – a fitted bodice with intricate lace detailing and a dramatic train. But as beautiful as it is, it feels like a costume. I step out hesitantly, the weight of the dress unfamiliar.

Candy’s eyes widen. “You look like a queen.”

I glance at my reflection in the mirror, and my chest tightens. The dress is beautiful, but it doesn’t feel like me .

Claudia claps her hands together. “Exquisite,” she declares. “This is the one.”

“No,” I say firmly, surprising even myself.

Claudia’s brows arch. “No?”

I meet her gaze, my voice steady. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not right. Let’s try something else.”

The fittings continue, dress after dress, each one more elaborate than the last. Candy offers her honest opinions, which I’m grateful for, but none of them feel right. Finally, after what feels like hours, Claudia presents a gown that takes my breath away.

The dress is fitted, flaring out into a slight puddle train, with intricate lace detailing that’s covered in tiny sparkling beads. It feels vintage – inspired and captivating. The lacework makes the entire dress appear sheer, even though there’s a skin-covered modesty layer underneath. The front is high and modest, wide cut across my clavicles to my shoulders, but the back is cut into a dramatic deep V-shape, which adds an elegant yet bold touch to the otherwise classically romantic design. The sleeves are sheer and fitted, extending to my wrists with a slightly flared cuff, giving them a delicate, ethereal quality. I feel like a princess.

When I step out, Candy gasps. “Holy shit, babe. That’s it. That’s the one.”

I turn to the mirror, and for the first time, I see myself – not the Sterling-Knight fiancée, but me .

I love this dress. It’s exactly what I would choose for my actual wedding, and even though I know that Sebastian’s father will absolutely hate it, this is the one.

Claudia nods approvingly. “Perfect.”

I smile faintly, my reflection blurring as emotions threaten to overwhelm me. It’s just a dress, I tell myself. But somehow, it feels like more than that.

“Hang on,” Candy says, getting to her feet and rushing over to a stand full of accessories. She comes back with a long veil in her hand. “Let’s get the full effect. Claudia?”

The assistant steps forward and takes the veil from my bestie, carefully sliding it into place. It’s long and translucent with subtle sparkle, complementing the dress perfectly, adding a mysterious and hauntingly beautiful aura.

“What do you think, Miss Rialdi?”

I nod, still kind of speechless. I look like a real bride.

Suddenly tears prick my eyes and I’m finding it hard to swallow around the lump in my throat.

“This is the one,” Candy says confidently. “We’re taking it.”

I nod and return to the changing room to get dressed. Even though I dressed nicely today, I feel like the hobo Candy teased me of being when I have to put my own clothes back on. After that dress, even the most designer threads feel like tattered rags.

Now I know how Cinderella felt after the ball.

By the time we leave the boutique, I’m emotionally drained. Especially after fighting with Claudia to pay for my own damn dress. It was eye-wateringly expensive, but worth it. My choice of dress, paid for from my pocket. She tried to insist Mr. Sterling-Knight Senior had taken care of everything, but Candy made it clear in no uncertain terms, she was to refund him and swipe my card instead.

I’m so glad she was with me today.

She walks beside me, her arm linked with mine.

“You okay?” she asks softly.

I nod, though my chest feels tight. “Yeah. Just...a lot to process.”

Candy squeezes my arm gently. “Come on, let’s go get some food. I’m starving and I didn’t even do anything!” She laughs. “Maybe we can have a few cocktails and make our men come rescue us.”

She pauses, taking a look at my panic-stricken expression before pulling me into a fierce hug. “You’re going to be fine, Elle. You’ve got this.”

I want to believe her. But as we head back to the mansion to change for the evening, the weight of everything – this wedding, this life, this lie – feels heavier than ever.

By the time we step into the small, warmly lit cocktail bar Candy picked out, my head is spinning. The day had felt endless – an emotional gauntlet – made worse by Claudia’s insistence on treating me like a doll to be dressed. But here, in this cozy haven of exposed brick and golden light, I feel the tension begin to ease. The place is quiet for now, the hum of soft jazz weaving through the air, and it’s just what I need.

Candy orders us both a round of espresso martinis before I even sit down. “If ever there was a day for these, it’s today,” she declares, sliding into the booth across from me, and tossing her coat onto the seat beside her.

I sink into the leather cushions, resting my elbows on the polished wood table. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you today. Probably walked out halfway through the fitting.”

She laughs, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I know. But I wasn’t about to let you face all that alone. Besides, I had to make sure Claudia didn’t strong-arm you into wearing one of those gaudy princess gowns.” She gives an exaggerated shudder, and I can’t help but smile. Out of the two of us, Candy has never been into fashion, so her joke really makes me feel warm inside. There’s nothing this girl wouldn’t do for me, or I for her.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” I admit, though my voice is quiet. “I just...this whole thing – the wedding, this life – it’s like I’m playing a part in someone else’s story.”

Candy’s expression softens, and she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “It doesn’t have to stay that way, Elle. You’re allowed to make this yours. Even if it’s all for show, you can still find pieces of it that are real. Pieces that matter to you.”

The server arrives with our drinks, and Candy raises hers in a toast. “To getting through today without murdering a bridal consultant or committing credit card fraud.”

I laugh, clinking my glass against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

The first sip is perfect – rich and bittersweet, cutting through the weight of the day like a balm. For a moment, we sit in companionable silence, letting the tension ebb away. But as the second drink arrives, Candy tilts her head, her gaze sharpening.

“Alright,” she says, setting her glass down with a determined look. “You’re brooding. Spill.”

I hesitate, but Candy doesn’t waver, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. Finally, I sigh, leaning forward on my elbows. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about you start with why you’re looking at me like you’ve got a secret that’s about to explode out of you?”

I laugh softly, but it fades quickly. “It’s just...everything. This fake engagement. Seb. The wedding. And now, the club.”

Candy raises a brow. “The club?”

I bite my lip, suddenly feeling exposed. But if there’s anyone I can talk to about this, it’s Candy. “I’ve been thinking about what I want. About...what I want to experience. Sexually. And I don’t even know where to start.”

Her expression shifts, her teasing giving way to something warmer, more serious. “You’re allowed to want things, Elle. You don’t have to justify them to anyone.”

“I know,” I say, though my voice is shaky. “It’s just that I’ve never...I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t even know if Seb would—” I cut myself off, heat rising to my cheeks.

Candy leans forward, her tone conspiratorial. “If Seb wouldn’t, I’d be shocked. That man looks at you like he’s already imagining a hundred filthy things he wants to do to you. And of course, I’ve read his profile so I know all the kinky shit he’s into.” She winks to tell me she’s joking.

I laugh, covering my face with my hands, but her words spark something inside me. A flicker of courage, maybe.

“Alright,” Candy says, leaning back with a grin. “What’s on your list? If you could do anything at the club – anything at all – what would it be? I already think you and Seb are going to be fire together. Your chemistry is off the charts and I bet you’re compatible in your kinks too.”

I glance around the bar, as if someone might overhear, but the only other patrons are absorbed in their own conversations. Taking a deep breath, I lower my voice. “I think...I want to give up control. For once. I want to feel like someone else is completely in charge.”

Candy’s smile softens. “That’s not unusual, you know. A lot of people feel that way – especially if they’re used to being the one in control all the time.”

“It’s more than that,” I admit, my words coming out in a rush. “I want to feel...safe. Like I can let go without having to worry. Like I can just...trust someone to take care of me. But…”

“But…?” She prompts, a brow raised.

“I like pain. I know I need it to get off, but only with someone who I know I can trust, and who won’t take advantage. I feel like I’d need double the aftercare. For the pain and for the emotions.”

Candy reaches for my hand again, her grip firm. “You deserve that, Elle. And you deserve to explore it with someone you trust completely. Whether it’s Seb or someone at the club, you don’t have to rush. You can take your time figuring it out.”

I nod, my chest feeling a little lighter. “Thanks, Candy. I didn’t think it would be this hard to talk about.”

She smiles, a teasing glint returning to her eyes. “That’s because you’ve been too busy overthinking everything. Trust me, once you start exploring, it’ll feel a lot more natural. And a lot more fun.”

“Speaking of fun,” I say, eager to shift the focus. “How’s everything with your men?”

Candy’s expression lights up, her smile turning radiant. “It’s amazing. They’re amazing. Honestly, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Her happiness is infectious, and I can’t help but smile back. “Tell me everything.”

For the next half hour, Candy regales me with stories about her unconventional relationship. She talks about North’s quiet strength, Dash’s wicked sense of humor, and Frost’s unexpected sweetness. The love she has for them shines in every word, and I feel a pang of envy – not for what she has, but for how secure she is in it.

“You’re glowing,” I tease when she finally stops to take a sip of her drink.

Candy grins. “That’s what happens when you’re adored by five incredible men. You should try it sometime.”

“Five might be a bit much for me,” I say with a laugh. “I think I’ll start with one and see how that goes.”

Candy leans back with a sly smile. “I can’t believe you’re the first one of us in a wedding dress. You, Elle. I thought for sure it would be me!”

I groan, setting my glass down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to steal the limelight, Candy. If it helps, it’s not like this is my dream scenario either.”

She waves me off, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t steal anything. It’s just...surprising, you know? Given that you’ve pretty much been single for as long as I’ve known you. That little blip last Christmas with what’s his name aside I mean.”

The thought makes me laugh, the tension in my chest easing just a little. “You know when it’s your turn to shop for a wedding dress, I’ll be right there, doing whatever you need. Swearing at consultants, vetoing ugly gowns, holding your hand through all of it. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And I think you should set a date sooner rather than later.”

Candy’s smile softens, and she lifts her glass. “To engagements. To friendship. And to having you by my side.”

“To you, Candy,” I reply, raising my glass.

We toast, the clink of our glasses ringing out like a promise, and drink deeply. One cocktail turns into two, and before I know it, we’re ordering a third round and giggling over old stories.

As the evening wears on, Candy leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “Alright, Elle. Be honest. What’s really going on with you and Seb? Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and honey, it’s not just for the cameras.”

I hesitate, the warmth of the alcohol loosening my tongue. “It’s...complicated,” I admit. “There’s a lot of pressure. From his family, from mine. And it’s hard to figure out what’s real and what’s just part of the act.”

Candy nods thoughtfully, swirling her martini. “But what about you? What do you feel?”

I glance down at my glass, the confession slipping out before I can stop it. “I think I’m falling for him. And it scares the hell out of me.”

Candy reaches across the table, her hand finding mine. “That’s not a bad thing, Elle. You’re allowed to feel. Just...don’t let the fear stop you from figuring out what you want.”

I nod, her words sinking in as the door to the bar opens and the cool night air sweeps in. I glance over and do a double take. Standing in the entrance, their imposing presence impossible to miss, are Candy’s men – North, Dash, and Frost, with Wint and Don just behind them.

“Looks like your rescue squad is here,” I tease, nudging her.

She laughs, waving them over. “I told them to let me have a girls’ night, but you know how they are. Always protective.”

The men approach, their easy smiles and affectionate greetings making it clear just how much they adore her. But as they gather around the table, my breath catches.

Because right behind them, leaning casually against the doorframe, is Seb.

His gaze locks on mine, and for a moment, the room fades away. He doesn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

“Well, well,” Candy says with a grin, nudging me. “Looks like your knight in shining armor couldn’t resist showing up either.”

Seb steps forward, his expression softening as he reaches me. “You’ve had a long day,” he says quietly. “I thought I’d make sure you got home safe.”

The warmth in his voice, the quiet concern – it’s enough to undo me. I glance at Candy, who’s grinning like the Cheshire cat, and give in. I’m not annoyed he’s here, not at all. In fact, warmth is spreading through my chest at his unexpected presence and his kind words.

“Alright,” I say, standing and grabbing my coat. “Let’s go before you embarrass me further, Candy.”

She laughs, pulling me into a hug. “Call me tomorrow, okay? And don’t overthink everything. Just let yourself feel.”

“I’ll try,” I whisper, squeezing her tightly before letting go.

As Seb leads me out of the bar, his hand resting lightly on my back, I can’t help but wonder if Candy’s right. Maybe it’s time to stop overthinking and start letting myself feel.

The quiet hum of the limo engine fills the space, as Seb settles beside me, his hand resting lightly on my thigh. The warmth of his touch seeps through the fabric of my dress, grounding me, as I lean back against the plush seat. The night air outside is crisp, but in here, it feels safe – comfortably cocooned in the intimate glow of the car’s interior lights.

“Long day?” Seb asks, his voice soft.

I nod, my head tilting against the cool leather headrest. “You could say that.”

He gives a low chuckle, the sound soothing and familiar. “You did well today,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing small circles against my leg. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Candy so determined. Or you so stubborn.”

“Stubborn is my middle name,” I reply, my lips quirking into a tired smile.

Seb’s gaze softens, and he shifts closer, his arm slipping around my shoulders as I begin to sag against him. “You’re exhausted,” he says, concern threading through his tone.

I nod again, my eyelids growing heavy as the tension of the day slowly ebbs away. “I’ll bounce back,” I whisper.

But when we arrive at the mansion, Seb doesn’t give me the chance to bounce back. Instead, he’s out of the limo and at my side before I can even think about stepping out. The night air is brisk, but Seb’s presence is warm, steady, as he bends down and scoops me into his arms.

“Seb,” I protest weakly, but he just shakes his head.

“Let me,” he says simply, his voice brooking no argument.

I give in, resting my head against his chest as he carries me up the stone steps and through the grand entrance. His pace is unhurried, his grip secure, and I feel an unexpected sense of calm wash over me.

He doesn’t stop until we’re in our suite, the door clicking shut softly behind us. Gently, Seb sets me down on the edge of the bed, his movements careful, almost reverent.

“Stay there,” he murmurs, straightening and heading toward the en suite.

I watch as he disappears through the doorway, returning moments later with a warm, damp cloth and a small bottle of micellar water. He places them onto the bedside table, then he kneels in front of me, his hands moving to the delicate ankle straps of my shoes.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up at me, his expression unreadable but his touch impossibly gentle. “I want to,” he replies.

His fingers work deftly, unbuckling the straps and sliding off one shoe, then the other. The relief is instant, and I let out a soft sigh as he sets them aside. His hands linger for a moment on my feet, his thumbs pressing lightly against the arches, and I almost melt under his touch.

When he stands, I expect him to leave the room again, but instead, he grabs the things he set on the bedside table, kneels in front of me once more, the cloth in his hands. “Close your eyes,” he says softly.

I hesitate, the intimacy of the moment catching me off guard. But his gaze is steady, reassuring, and I find myself obeying.

The warm cloth brushes against my skin, gentle and thorough as he begins to remove my makeup. The sensation is soothing, and I relax under his care, the day’s stress melting away with each careful stroke.

“You didn’t have to come get me tonight,” I murmur, my voice drowsy.

Seb’s hand pauses for a fraction of a second before resuming. “I wanted to,” he says simply.

When he finishes, he sets the cloth aside and leans back, his hands resting lightly on my knees. I open my eyes to find him watching me, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it.

“There,” he says, his voice low. “All done.”

For a moment, neither of us moves, the air between us thick with unspoken words. I feel raw, exposed, but not in a way that scares me. Seb’s gaze is steady, his presence solid, and for the first time in a long while, I feel...cared for.

“Thank you,” I whisper, the words barely audible.

Seb’s lips curve into a small, tender smile as he helps me to my feet. “Anytime, Elle.”

I excuse myself to use the bathroom, washing my hands and teeth and unclipping my hair to brush it out. When I’m done, Seb is at the door, guiding me toward the bed with a quiet patience that makes my chest ache.

“I grabbed some pyjamas for you,” he tells me softly, pointing to the folded pile of satin on the end of the bed. I grimace.

“Thank you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just…nothing. Thank you. That was really kind.”

“Elle, tell me,” he insists.

“I just want to sleep in a T-shirt,” I sigh wistfully.

“Here.”

Before I can stop him, he reaches behind his head and pulls his white shirt off in one smooth motion that makes my mouth water. Maybe it’s the alcohol or hormones or something, or maybe it’s just Seb – but the sight of him standing there, bare chested and confident, sends a shiver down my spine. The dim light plays across the hard lines of his chest and the faint smattering of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband. I’m staring, and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“Here,” he says again, holding out the shirt to me like it’s no big deal.

I blink, dragging my gaze back to his face. He’s watching me, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but he doesn’t comment on my obvious ogling. I swallow hard, taking the shirt from his outstretched hand. The fabric is soft, still warm from his body, and it smells like him – clean, masculine, with a hint of something deeper that’s uniquely Seb.

“Thanks,” I mumble, clutching the shirt to my chest like it’s a lifeline.

He steps back, giving me space, and I quickly turn my back to him, slipping out of my outfit and into the oversized shirt. It falls to mid-thigh, the hem brushing against my skin in a way that feels...intimate. Too intimate.

When I turn back around, Seb is still standing there but in just his boxers now, his eyes flicking over me briefly before he averts his gaze, giving me privacy without making it awkward. I manage to do no such thing, drinking him in like I’m parched.

“Better?” he asks, his voice low.

“Much,” I admit, managing a small smile.

He nods, grabbing the satin pyjamas he’d originally picked out and setting them on a nearby chair. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, gesturing toward the plush loveseat near the window.

I frown. “You don’t have to?—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts me off gently but firmly. “You need rest, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He starts to move toward the couch, but something in me rebels at the thought of him being so far away. It’s irrational, I know, but the idea of him sitting there, alone, while I lie in the massive bed feels wrong.

“Seb,” I say, my voice stopping him in his tracks.

He turns to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah?”

“Stay.” The word slips out before I can overthink it, and my chest tightens as I watch his expression shift from surprise to something softer, more cautious.

“I don’t think?—”

“Stay with me,” I say again, stronger this time, stepping closer to him. “Here. In the bed. Beside me.”

His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking as he searches my face, clearly conflicted. “Elle, I don’t want to cross any lines?—”

“You won’t,” I interrupt, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “Please, Seb. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

His hesitation lasts only a moment longer before he nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Okay,” he says softly.

I climb into the bed, pulling the covers up to my chest as Seb walks around to the other side. He slides in cautiously, keeping a respectful distance between us, but his presence is enough to soothe the restless energy buzzing beneath my skin.

The room is quiet, the only sound is the soft rustle of the sheets as we settle in. I turn onto my side, facing him, and find him already looking at me, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“Thank you,” I whisper, the words barely audible.

He nods, his gaze holding mine for a beat longer before he closes his eyes. “Goodnight, Elle.”

“Goodnight, Seb.”

As the silence stretches out between us, I feel the tension in my body begin to ease, the weight of the day’s events fading away. With Seb beside me, solid and steady, sleep comes easier than I expected.