Chapter 2

 

Once the Bentley reached the bottom of the hill, Eleanor prepared to ask Sebastian to pull over. But as the saying goes, when it rains, it pours—and the little boy clearly had no intention of letting her go so easily.

Theo scrambled over and planted himself squarely on her lap. Leaning his little head close to her ear, he stage-whispered, "Hey, are you really not going to try and seduce my dad? Because if you want to, I can help you."

The child smelled of milk and soap. Instinctively, Eleanor wrapped her arms around his small body to keep him from tumbling off her lap. But a look of utter disbelief crossed her face.

Was that supposed to be a whisper?! Even the driver in the front seat could hear him perfectly!

Eleanor felt her cheeks catch fire. Catching a glimpse of the amused smirk playing on Sebastian’s lips made her want to sink into the leather upholstery and disappear completely.

"Little guy, I promise you, I really don't want to be your stepmother," she gritted out, forcing a calm tone as she repeated herself.

Unfazed, Theo simply adjusted his position in her lap. "That's fine. If you don't want to be my stepmother, you can just be my wife. When I grow up, I'll marry you!"

Eleanor's embarrassment melted into a helpless smile. She reached up and lightly tapped the tip of his nose. "Do you even know what a wife is? By the time you're grown up, I'll be an old woman."

"It's okay! I won't mind that you're old and wrinkly."

Eleanor briefly fought the urge to playfully flick his forehead.

"I'm serious," Theo insisted. "I definitely won't despise you. I'll treat you really well. Just promise to be my wife!"

Is this child secretly an adult in disguise? Eleanor wondered, thoroughly exasperated. Where on earth did he learn to talk like this?

"Silence means yes," Theo declared with authority. "Give me your number. When I'm on school holiday, let's go on a date!"

Unable to handle another second of this absurdity, Eleanor smoothly lifted Theo and deposited him directly into Sebastian's lap. "Stop the car, please!"

The moment the Bentley rolled to a halt, she flung the door open and fled into the night like a frightened rabbit.

Pressing his face against the glass, Theo watched Eleanor disappear down the street and let out a regretful sigh.

Sebastian turned to look at his son with surprise registering in his eyes. Over the past two years, countless women had thrown themselves into their orbit, but none had ever warranted a second glance from Theo. Whether they were heiresses or socialites, the boy usually looked at them with disdain.

Frankly, Sebastian considered women an unnecessary complication. He and his son relied only on each other. And aside from the lack of a maternal figure, their lives were rich and privileged; they certainly didn't suffer for it.

"Theo, do you like her?"

"Yes!"

"Why?" Sebastian couldn't help but ask, studying his son's face.

Theo slid back into his own seat and gave his father a tired look. "Does a person need a reason to like someone?"

"Don't they?"

"Do they?"

"Yes."

"Fine, then!" Theo sighed dramatically, as if deeply burdened by his father's ignorance. "I like her because it's destiny. Love at first sight. Dad, I can just feel it. She's the woman we need."

"I felt it too," Sebastian murmured.

Theo's eyes widened. He grabbed his father's arm, vibrating with excitement. "You think so too? Then you'll chase after her? You'll make her my stepmother?"

Sebastian lifted Theo back onto his lap. "Theo, wouldn't it be better if she was just your mother? Why are you so fixated on the word 'stepmother'?"

At the word "mother," the playful smile vanished from Theo's eyes, replaced by silence.

"No. Mothers leave us behind and never come back. Stepmothers are the ones who move into the house and stay forever. Even if she's mean to me like the wicked stepmothers in the fairy tales, it doesn't matter. I'll make her like me eventually."

Sebastian's chest tightened. His eyes softened as he gently stroked his son's hair, offering a murmur of agreement.

When Eleanor returned to her flat, it was nearing ten o'clock. She stamped her foot to trigger the motion-sensor light in the stairwell, but the bulb had burnt out. Sighing, she pulled out her phone, switched on the torch, and carefully made her way up the dark stairs.

"Eleanor..."

The voice in the dark stairwell made her jump. She stumbled back against the wall, her phone trembling as she pointed the beam at the shadowy figure.

"Who's there?"

"Eleanor, it's me."

Her racing heart settled slightly as she recognized the voice, followed instantly by a surge of anger. "James."

"Yes."

Her voice turned icy. "What are you doing here? Aren't you afraid your fiancée will dump you if she catches you lurking in the dark outside my flat?"

"Eleanor, you know exactly why I am with Cassandra. It breaks my heart to hear you speak to me like this. Your words are like a poisoned blade. No one else can hurt me the way you do."

She let out a dry, mocking laugh.

James looked genuinely pained as he reached out, gripping her shoulders. "Eleanor, I need backing to build my career. Cassandra can give me the capital and the connections to make me successful. But you are the only one in my heart. If you can't understand the sacrifice I'm making, how am I supposed to endure this?"

A flash of sorrow crossed her face. Did James really think she was still the naive, gullible girl from their past? Her beautiful eyes caught the dim light of her phone as she looked up at him.

"James, if it's so hard to endure, then stop pretending," she whispered softly, deciding to test him. "We used to have such a beautiful life together. Why do we have to involve ourselves with the Whitfields? We can go back to the countryside, just the two of us. We can live a peaceful life. Doesn't that sound nice?"

A confused look of conflict crossed James's face. He gazed down at her—she was still the most stunning woman he had ever known.

"Eleanor..." He slid his hand to her neck, lowering his head to kiss the face he claimed to love above all else.

Suddenly, Eleanor's eyes widened in shock, staring over his shoulder. "Cassandra! What are you doing here?"

James violently shoved Eleanor away, spinning around in panic. "Cassandra, wait, let me explain, I—"

The slap behind him was empty.

James whirled back around, his face flushing with anger. "Eleanor, you lied to—"

Smack!

Eleanor slapped him sharply across the cheek. Before he could recover, she drove her knee squarely into his groin.

James groaned, doubling over and clutching himself as he slumped against the wall.

"James," she said coldly, looking down at him. "If you want to trade our relationship for a golden ticket, fine. But don't stand here acting like a tragic hero who's reluctant to leave. It's pathetic and disgusting. Do not ever come near me again. If you do, perhaps Cassandra will miraculously receive security footage of her fiancé making midnight visits to my flat."

With those final words, she turned and continued up the stairs, her steps were firm and echoing. She didn't look back. When she reached the fifth floor, she unlocked her flat, stepped inside, and slammed the door shut in one motion.

Only when the deadbolt slid into place did her emotions crack.

All the strength drained from her limbs. She leaned her back heavily against the door and buried her face in her trembling hands. She knew the truth. No matter how ruthless her actions or how cold her words had been, she couldn't deceive her own heart. She had poured everything into that relationship for three years. Erasing that kind of love overnight was impossible.

After a long time, she wiped her face, took a deep breath, and dialed her best friend, Beatrice.

"Bea... I'm in a terrible mood. I need a drink."

"Where are we going?" Beatrice's voice crackled through the speaker, not hesitating for a single second.

A tight knot in Eleanor's chest loosened at Beatrice's immediate support. So what if she had lost James? At least she still had her best friend.

"Nocturne."

"Done. Give me ten minutes to change and I'll meet you there. It's Friday anyway—we are going to have a proper night out."

Hearing the sound of Beatrice already tearing through her wardrobe, Eleanor finally managed a genuine smile. She ended the call, grabbed her jacket, and headed back downstairs.

The stairwell was empty. James was already gone. He had always been incredibly single-minded. He knew exactly what he wanted, and once he set a goal, nothing deterred him. Realizing he wasn't going to get his way tonight, he hadn't bothered sticking around. She knew exactly how coldly pragmatic James Thornton truly was.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she unlocked her Vespa scooter, started the engine, and disappeared into the night.