In love with a billionaire

004

The roar of the storm seemed to have settled within the very walls of Smith's Books, each clap of thunder making the shelves vibrate and the flame of the oil lamp on the counter tremble. Adeline Smith, standing behind this bulwark of scuffed wood, had just put down Jane Eyre with a firmness that still betrayed her irritation. Sebastian Hooper , soaked from head to toe, stood a few feet away, his charcoal gray three-piece suit clinging to his skin like a cold, miserable second layer. Harold Grayson , by the door, was wiping his face with his sleeve, watching the scene with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, his eyes flicking from his boss to the bookseller as if he were watching an impromptu play.

Adeline snatched up the threadbare rag she'd thrown to Sebastian earlier and held it out again, this time with a hint of impatience in her gesture. "Here," she said, her voice clear but laced with suppressed reproach. "You're still dripping everywhere. If you're going to stay, at least stop flooding my floor." Sebastian snatched the cloth in mid-air, his fingers briefly brushing hers—a fleeting touch that surprised him with its warmth in the damp, cold room. He unfolded the rag, his gaze fixed on hers, and began wiping his face with abrupt movements, as if to mask his confusion.

“Thank you for your concern,” he replied, his tone oscillating between sarcasm and a clumsy attempt at politeness. He ran the cloth over his brown hair, pushing it back in a gesture that might have been elegant were it not so drenched. “But I doubt this scrap of cloth will do much to change my condition. Wouldn’t you happen to have a fireplace hidden somewhere in this… charming establishment?” He scanned the room, his blue eyes searching dark corners as if he truly hoped to find a blaze.

Adeline crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised. "No fireplace, no fire, no luxury. You're in the East End, not one of your posh parlors. If you want comfort, you'll have to wait for your chauffeur to resuscitate your precious car." She glanced at Harold, who had moved closer to a bookshelf and was pretending to examine a dog-eared volume, though he was clearly listening to every word.

Harold snorted, unconsciously looking up from the book he'd been holding upside down. "Resurrect, eh? That Rolls-Royce's more temperamental than a diva, miss. But I'll go check it out as soon as the storm gives me a chance not to drown outside." He put the book down with a shrug, then leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk. "Meanwhile, I think you're handling my boss pretty well. Not many people dare talk to him like that."

Sebastian glared at him, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Harold, if you keep siding with her, I'll fire you the second we leave here." But his threat rang hollow, and Harold knew it—a raucous burst of laughter escaped the driver, echoing through the small room. "You say that every time I open my mouth, sir. And yet, I'm still here."

Adeline gave a fleeting smile, amused despite herself by their exchange. She sat back down on her stool, picking up Jane Eyre again, but her fingers remained motionless on the page, a sign that she was no longer truly reading. Sebastian , piqued by the attention she was giving Harold, approached the counter and placed the damp cloth next to the lamp, leaving a small puddle spreading on the wood. "Are you reading in this miserable light?" he asked, a hint of arrogance returning to his voice. "You'll ruin your eyes if you keep looking. Why not invest in an electric lamp? It is the twentieth century, after all."

She looked up, her sharp gaze piercing him like a blade. "Because electricity is expensive, Mr. Hooper ," she replied, emphasizing each word as if to emphasize the obvious. "And this lamp does the job. Better that than not reading at all." She tapped the book with her fingertips, a possessive gesture that seemed to defy criticism.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her answer. "So you'd rather ruin your eyesight than give up your books? Interesting." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms with studied nonchalance. "And what is it about these pages that excites you so much? Tragic love stories, I presume? A romantic at heart?" He accompanied his question with a smirk, hoping to throw her off.

Adeline didn't blink, but her lips pursed slightly, a sign that he'd struck a chord. "Not only that," she said, her voice lower, almost thoughtful. "It's the story of a woman who refuses to conform to what's expected of her. It might be beyond you, living in a world where everything can be bought." She slammed the book shut, the sound echoing through the room like a full stop.

Harold hissed softly through his teeth, impressed. "Ouch, sir, she's got you again! She's got some nerve, that girl." He moved closer, pretending to look for another book to examine, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. "You should read a little too, Mr. Hooper . Perhaps it would make you less... how shall I put this... uptight?"

Sebastian glared at him, but an involuntary laugh escaped him, a short, raspy sound that he quickly stifled. "Stuck? Thank you, Harold, your support is always a delight." He turned his attention back to Adeline, who was now looking at him with suppressed curiosity, as if trying to understand this wealthy, arrogant man who seemed unable to remain silent. "You have a very sharp tongue, Miss Smith," he said, lowering his voice slightly. "That must get you into trouble, in a place like this."

She shrugged, a simple but defiant gesture. "Nor does your arrogance attract them into your gilded circles. Each to his own." She opened Jane Eyre again, but her eyes remained fixed on him for a moment longer, an unreadable gleam in her gaze.

A flash of lightning tore through the sky outside, illuminating the room with a harsh light that made the lamp flicker. Harold jumped, muttering a curse, while Sebastian sat up, suddenly aware of how close he'd gotten to the counter—and to her. "You know," he said, changing tactics, "I could give you a flashlight. A present, to apologize for soaking your precious floor." He accompanied his words with a charming smile, the kind that made investors and high society ladies melt.

Adeline stared at him, her fingers tightening around the book. "I don't need your gifts," she replied, her voice cold but trembling with suppressed anger. "And I'm not for sale, Mr. Hooper . Neither am I, nor my bookstore." She stood again, walked around the counter, and approached him, so close that he smelled the faint scent of ink and paper permeating her dress. "If you want to help, take this rag and wipe up your traces. It will do."

Harold burst into a loud laugh, stamping his foot on the floor. "Oh, I love that! She puts you in your place like a schoolmistress, sir!" He grabbed a corner of his own coat and pretended to wipe down a shelf, imitating an obedient student. "I must say she's right, you do leave puddles everywhere."

Sebastian , unsettled, grabbed the cloth and wiped it over his hands, more out of reflex than any real intention of following her order. "You're uncompromising," he murmured, but there was a note of admiration in his voice, almost in spite of himself. He took a step back, watching her return behind the counter with a natural grace that contrasted with the harshness of her words.

Adeline sat down, picking up her book again, but her fingers hesitated on the page. "And you're persistent," she replied without looking up. "But the storm will eventually stop, and you with it." She turned a page, pretending to read, but a fleeting smile—barely visible—betrayed a crack in her facade.

Sebastian leaned against a shelf, crossing his arms defiantly. "Perhaps," he said, his voice softer, almost playful. "But in the meantime, I'm here. And I'm not sure you're as indifferent as you pretend." He accompanied his words with a pointed look, trying to catch hers.

Harold, feeling the tension rising, cleared his throat. "Well, I'm going outside to see if the storm is calming down. You two, try not to kill each other, okay?" He opened the door again, letting in a cold gust of wind, and disappeared into the rain before Sebastian could protest.

A silence fell, heavy and charged, punctuated by the patter of rain against the windows. Adeline looked up, finally meeting Sebastian 's , and for a moment, a spark passed between them—fragile, uncertain, but very real. Outside, thunder rumbled, as if to seal the moment.