In love with a billionaire

006

Smith's Books seemed suspended in a bubble of tension, insulated from the chaos of the storm that continued to hammer the windows with relentless fury. The oil lamp on the counter cast a flickering light, highlighting the tired outlines of the shelves and the shifting shadows of the three figures that occupied the cramped space. Sebastian Hooper, leaning against the counter, had regained some of his confidence, despite his soaked suit sticking to his skin and his messy hair. Adeline Smith, sitting on her stool, leafed through Jane Eyre with feigned concentration, her fingers clenched on the pages as if to protect herself from the man staring at her with growing curiosity. Harold Grayson, by the door, was wiping his hands on his trousers, his dripping coat pooling on the worn carpet. The air was heavy, thick with humidity and a palpable tension that seemed ready to burst.

Sebastian, stung by Adeline's laughter in the previous chapter, decided to press the advantage. He cleared his throat, crossing his arms with studied nonchalance. "So, Miss Smith," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of provocation, "how long have you worked here? This place seems... well, well, stuck in the past." He scanned the room, his eyes lingering on the faded walls and stacks of yellowed books, as if to emphasize the gap between her world and his.

Adeline looked up, her sharp gaze piercing him like a needle. "Long enough to pay the rent," she replied crisply, almost mechanically, before returning to her book. She turned a page with deliberate slowness, clearly signaling that she had no intention of dwelling on the subject. But Sebastian, used to getting answers, was undeterred. He moved closer, placing a hand on the counter, his fingers brushing the scuffed wood inches from Jane Eyre.

"The rent?" he repeated, one eyebrow raised. "Is that all this place offers you? No ambition, no bigger dreams?" He accompanied his words with a smirk, hoping to provoke a reaction from her. His remark, though teasing on the surface, carried an implicit arrogance, that of a man who saw the world as a chessboard to be conquered.

Adeline slammed the book shut, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. She stood up, stepping around the counter to stand in front of him, arms crossed, her small stature offset by a presence that seemed to fill the space. “And you, Mr. Hooper, what do you know about ambition?” she asked, her voice low but vibrant with suppressed anger. “You think it’s building factories and counting money? For some, just standing is a victory.”

Harold, who had moved closer to a shelf to pretend to examine a volume, whistled softly through his teeth. "Ouch, sir, she puts you in your place there!" He grabbed a book at random, holding it upside down without realizing it, and gave Adeline a mischievous grin. "She's got some fire, that girl. I bet she could hold her own against Lady Margaret herself!"

Sebastian glared at his driver. "Harold, if you keep siding with him, I'll make you sleep in the car once it's fixed." But his threat rang hollow, and Harold knew it—a raucous laugh escaped the driver, echoing through the room. "You say that, but you love it, sir. It's a change from the noddies in your living rooms!" He put the book down with a shrug, leaning back against the wall to better enjoy the spectacle.

Sebastian turned his attention back to Adeline, who was still staring at him, her green eyes shining with a mixture of defiance and suspicion. "I have no doubt you're standing," he said, lowering his voice as if to ease the tension. "But why settle for that? A woman like you, with a sharp mind, could do a lot more than run a bookstore in some remote corner of the East End." He accompanied his words with a vague gesture toward the room, ignoring the implied insult he'd just uttered.

Adeline stiffened, her shoulders squaring as if to protect herself from a blow. "A bookstore in some remote corner?" she repeated, her voice rising a notch. "This place is more than you will ever understand. It's not just books and moldy wood, it's my life. And I don't need your judgments to tell me what I should want." She took a step closer, so close that he smelled the faint scent of ink and paper permeating her dress, a stark contrast to her own scent of wet wool and expensive leather.

Harold intervened, holding up his hands as if to calm things down. "Whoa, whoa, Miss Smith, he didn't mean to offend you, did he, sir?" He looked imploringly at Sebastian, who remained silent for a moment, unsettled by the intensity of his reaction. "I'm just saying you've got guts, and that's something in a place like the East End. I respect that."

Adeline turned her eyes to Harold, her expression softening slightly. "Thank you," she said, a little calmer, before turning her attention back to Sebastian. "But he doesn't respect anything. He comes in here, soaking wet and lost, and he thinks he can tell me how to live my life because he has money and a name." She crossed her arms tighter, as if to erect a wall between them.

Sebastian took a step back, running a hand through his wet hair, a nervous gesture he masked with feigned nonchalance. "I didn't mean to offend you," he said finally, his voice softer, almost sincere. "I'm just... curious. You're different than what I'm used to." He accompanied his words with a hesitant smile, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Different?" she repeated, one eyebrow raised. "You mean poor, right? Not refined enough for your tastes?" She moved around the counter to resume her seat, grabbing Jane Eyre like a shield. "You know nothing about me, Mr. Hooper. And I'm not a Curiosity to be analyzed."

Harold approached, placing a hand on Sebastian's shoulder with a knowing look. "She's right, sir. You can't just waltz in here and act all lordly. This isn't Mayfair. People have their pride, even without your Rolls-Royces." He patted his boss on the shoulder before walking away, pretending to examine another shelf.

Sebastian ignored Harold and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms with renewed determination. "I'm not playing the high horse," he said, lowering his voice to create intimacy in the exchange. "And I don't see you as a curiosity. I see an intelligent woman, reading Brontë in a miserable light and unafraid to stand up to me. That deserves more than a rundown bookstore, doesn't it?"

Adeline stared at him, her fingers gripping the book until her knuckles turned white. "What it deserves is my business," she replied, her voice shaking with anger she could barely contain. "You talk about my dreams as if you could buy them or repair them with your factories. But here, we don't live to impress men like you. We just live." She opened Jane Eyre again, her eyes fixed on the pages, but her shoulders remained tense.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a crack of thunder that made Harold jump. "Damn it, it never ends!" he muttered, shaking his head. "You two should make peace before lightning strikes us." He approached the counter, resting his elbows on the wood with a mischievous look. "Come on, sir, say something nice to her. She deserves a compliment, doesn't she?"

Sebastian hesitated, caught between his pride and a strange desire to redeem himself. "All right," he said finally, his voice lower, almost intimate. "You're right, Miss Smith. I know nothing about your life, and I have no right to judge. But I maintain that you have wit—more than many people I know. And that's no small thing." He accompanied his words with a genuine smile, the first since they met that didn't wear a mask.

Adeline looked up, surprised by the change in tone. She stared at him for a long moment, searching for a catch in his words, then nodded, barely perceptibly. "Thank you," she murmured, before returning to her book, her fingers loosening their grip slightly. "But don't get any ideas. The storm will end, and you'll leave. It's better that way."

Harold chuckled softly. "Oh, I'm not sure he'll leave so soon, miss. He seems to enjoy being told off!" He stamped his foot, pleased with this turn of events.

Sebastian didn't answer, but a twinkle in his eyes suggested he wasn't ready to give up so easily. Outside, the rain was getting heavier, and in the bookstore, Sebastian and Adeline's worlds continued to collide, as opposite as the thunder and the silence that followed.