Chapter 10: Beneath the Spotlight
1225 Words
Azrael POV
The day of the launch was finally here. The culmination of months of preparation, meetings, and sleepless nights. The Devereux beauty line was set to debut, and the world was watching. Despite my usual calm exterior, there was a storm brewing inside me. It wasn’t just about the business anymore. No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, my thoughts kept drifting back to the kiss.
Her lips, soft and warm, the way her hands clutched my shirt—it was a moment I couldn’t erase, no matter how much whiskey I drowned myself in. I had made a mistake. Or had I?
I tightened the cuffs of my tailored black suit as I stared at my reflection. I looked sharp, professional, untouchable. Just the way I needed to be.
“Azrael, we’re leaving in ten minutes,” Marcus called from the other room. He was my right-hand man and a constant reminder that I needed to keep my head in the game.
“I’ll be ready,” I replied, my tone clipped.
To make matters more complicated, I wasn’t attending this event alone. I had invited Cassandra Arlen a rising actress with a reputation for lighting up every room she entered. She wasn’t Celestine. That much was obvious. But she was a distraction, a necessary shield to keep myself from thinking about things I shouldn’t.
Celestine POV
“Gusto kong siguraduhin na walang kapintasan,” I told my stylist as I stood in front of the mirror. My gold gown shimmered under the lights, its high slit revealing just enough to be elegant yet daring. The plunging neckline and perfectly tailored fit hugged my curves, making me look like I belonged on a throne.
“Ma’am Celestine, hindi na po kailangang ayusin pa. You look stunning,” my stylist said with a satisfied smile.
“Salamat,” I replied, though my mind was elsewhere.
I couldn’t stop replaying last night in my head. The kiss. His hands. The intensity in his eyes. What the hell was that? It was just a kiss, Celestine. Walang ibig sabihin. Right?
Shaking off the thought, I reminded myself why I was here. This event wasn’t about Azrael or that damn kiss. It was about launching the Devereux makeup line and proving that I could handle my responsibilities. Nothing else mattered.
Azrael POV
The ballroom was packed. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a golden glow on the elegant crowd. Cameras flashed as the media documented every moment of the event. My grip on Cassandra’s waist tightened as we made our entrance. She leaned in closer, flashing a dazzling smile at the cameras.
“Relax, Azrael,” she whispered. “You look like you’re walking into a board meeting, not a party.”
“Just do your part, Cassandra,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Smile, mingle, and stay by my side.”
As we moved further into the room, I caught sight of her. Celestine. She stood at the center of attention, the gold gown she wore shimmering with every step she took. She was stunning, effortlessly commanding the room. My chest tightened. How could someone look so damn perfect?
Her eyes flicked to mine for a brief moment, and I could see the same guarded expression I had. We both knew the rules tonight. Act professional. Act like strangers. No one could know about the kiss.
Celestine POV
“Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you the Devereux Beauty Line!” my mother announced, her voice filled with pride. Applause erupted as the curtains behind the stage lifted, revealing the products we had poured our hearts into.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward to join her on stage, smiling brightly for the cameras. But as I spoke about our vision and the inspiration behind the line, I could feel his eyes on me. Azrael Ziferano, standing at the edge of the crowd with that actress hanging on his arm. Parang sinadya. Of all the nights to bring a date, he chose this one.
“Thank you for your support,” I concluded, stepping back as the applause grew louder. The media swarmed, their cameras flashing as questions were hurled at me.
“Miss Devereux, are you and Mr. Ziferano dating?”
“There’s a photo circulating online of the two of you kissing in a bar last night. Can you confirm this?”
My heart stopped. What?
I forced a calm smile, even as my mind raced. “The photo you’re referring to is clearly taken out of context. Mr. Ziferano and I are business partners. That’s all.”
“Does Mr. Ziferano have a comment?” another reporter asked, turning the cameras to him.
Azrael stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “Celestine is right,” he said coolly. “We are professionals working together for a shared goal. Let’s focus on the success of tonight’s event, shall we?”
The reporters murmured among themselves as the focus shifted back to the launch. But I could still feel the tension between us, an unspoken understanding that we’d need to address this later.
The End of Launch
By the time the event wound down, I was exhausted. I’d posed for countless photos, answered a dozen more questions, and smiled so much my cheeks hurt. All I wanted now was to leave.
“Celestine,” a voice called behind me. I turned to see Azrael, his expression as unreadable as ever.
“What is it?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“We need to talk,” he said, stepping closer. “About the photo.”
“Not here,” I replied sharply, glancing around to make sure no one was watching.
“Then let’s go somewhere private,” he insisted.
I hesitated, but before I could respond, he placed a hand on my waist and gently guided me toward a secluded hallway. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to let it show.
“Azrael, ano bang gusto mong sabihin?” I asked, turning to face him.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he backed me against the wall.
“We need to control the narrative,” he said, his voice low. “The media can’t know about what happened.”
“You mean the kiss?” I shot back, my tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah, I’d rather forget about that too.”
His jaw tightened. “Forget it?” He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “Do you think it’s that easy?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I challenged, meeting his gaze head on. “It didn’t mean anything, right?”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, with a smirk that sent a push through me, he placed a hand on the wall beside my head, his other hand brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.
“You’re lying to yourself, Celestine,” he whispered. “And that’s what’s driving you crazy.”
Before I could respond, he stepped back, his expression once again unreadable. “Good night, Miss Devereux,” he said, his tone cold and formal. Then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding and my mind racing.
What the hell just happened?
- Writer
