CHAPTER FOUR: Eat With the Enemy
755 Words
Celeste dressed for war.
Not in red. Not in black.
In white.
The kind of white that dared coffee to spill, dared eyes to linger, dared a liar to blink. Her dress was structured. Knife-pleated. Immaculate.
Power made visible.
Because tonight, she was taking a seat across from a man who’d seen her file her marriage into a folder like evidence—and still wanted more.
---
They met at Atria.
An underground, no-press, no-photos restaurant that didn’t advertise and didn’t seat without references. Celeste had eaten there exactly once—after she won her firm’s biggest settlement to date. Alone.
Tonight, Dorian was already seated when she arrived.
He stood when she approached. His suit was charcoal again, this time with a dark olive shirt, collar open.
“Impeccable,” he murmured.
She sat without acknowledging the compliment. “This is not a date.”
“Then I overdressed for a deposition.”
She smirked, despite herself.
They ordered—nothing extravagant. She hated it when men postured with menus. He didn’t.
The silence between them was easy. Not awkward. Not probing.
For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel watched.
She felt measured.
“Why law?” he asked, halfway through his risotto.
Celeste paused, wine glass mid-air.
“Why real estate?” she countered.
He nodded. “Touché.”
She set her glass down. “Because it was the only path where I could turn control into currency.”
He tilted his head. “That’s not a real answer.”
“It’s the only one I give.”
He didn’t push.
And that unsettled her more than any pressure would have.
She watched him, unsure what unnerved her more—his calm or his clarity. He didn’t want her to break. He wanted her to choose him.
“I’m going to burn them,” she said suddenly. “But not with drama. Not with scandal. I’m going to let them lie until they think they’ve won.”
“And then?”
“I’ll remind them what I built before I ever met either of them.”
Dorian raised his glass. “To reminders.”
---
Back at her office the next morning, she summoned Sienna.
The woman walked in, too bright-eyed, too polished. Wearing a new bag Celeste didn’t remember approving. A shade of lipstick she hadn’t worn before.
Celeste gestured to the chair.
“Sit.”
Sienna blinked, surprised.
Celeste turned her screen so the young woman could see the login timestamps.
“I found six billing entries logged from your credentials. During hours you weren’t in the building.”
Sienna swallowed. “—I-I must’ve left my laptop open—”
“Stop.”
The word landed like a gavel.
“I don’t care what lie you practiced. I’m not your audience.”
Sienna opened her mouth, but Celeste leaned forward, voice like a blade.
“You’ve been sloppy. Careless. You think being cute and needed is a currency that lasts. It doesn’t. And you used my resources to help him hide money from me.”
“I didn’t—”
Celeste stood. Cold. Composed.
“You think you’re the first woman who thought she could steal a man from me? You’re not even the first one this year.”
Sienna looked pale now. The words had hit a nerve.
“I could fire you,” Celeste continued. “But that would be too kind. I’m going to let you walk out of this building today with a full day’s pay.”
Sienna blinked.
“Because I want you to feel safe. Until the audit lands. Until the lawsuit hits. Until your inbox is flooded with subpoenas you never saw coming.”
Sienna stood too fast, eyes wide.
“You wouldn’t—”
“I already did.”
The silence cracked like ice.
Sienna left without another word.
---
That night, Celeste stood in her apartment’s master closet, staring at the last gift Grant ever gave her: a diamond tennis bracelet still in the velvet box. It hadn’t suited her even then.
She closed the lid.
Then picked up her phone.
Celeste:
If we’re doing this, I want your full team. I want every asset Grant’s touched traced. No leaks. No mistakes.
Dorian:
You’ll have it by Monday. Unless you want it sooner.
She hesitated.
Then added:
Celeste:
Also, I want to know how he met Sienna.
Dorian:
That answer won’t make you feel better.
Celeste:
I don’t need to feel better. I need to know where to aim.
- Writer
