Chapter 3 – The Devil Wears a Smile
940 Words
Chapter 3 – The Devil Wears a Smile
The city always looked different after midnight.
Celestine stood on the rooftop of a twenty-story building, her face hidden behind a porcelain half-mask laced with silver vines. The wind fluttered the ends of her black coat, and the neon lights far below made her seem like a shadow trapped between dreams and reality.
Gone was the nerdy office girl with big glasses and shapeless cardigans. Here, she became something else—sleek, poised, untouchable. The rumors whispered in the office couldn't compare to the truth that walked rooftops and slipped past security systems without sound. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was devastating.
And tonight, she was on a hunt.
The target was a politician—a high-profile man suspected of human trafficking. Celestine had been tracking him for weeks, weaving her charm into false interviews and staged public encounters. She never killed. Her job was to seduce the truth, dismantle a man’s will, and leave him exposed for others to devour. A ghost in silk.
She entered the private lounge from the balcony, silent as breath. The man was already there, laughing with a girl too young for his attention. He didn’t see her, not until she allowed it.
When he turned and their eyes met, he froze.
She stepped into the light.
“Mr. Ferros,” she said, voice low, honeyed.
He blinked. His lips parted. “Do I know you?”
“No. But you’ve dreamed of me.”
He didn’t even question her presence. Most of them didn’t. That was part of the curse.
Ten minutes later, the girl had vanished, and Celestine sat across from the sweating man, her legs crossed in deliberate elegance.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice unsteady.
“To know what you’re hiding.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.” She smiled, slow, sensual, terrifying.
He broke first, like they all did. In the end, the information spilled—names, accounts, everything. She slipped out as easily as she came, leaving him slumped, weeping.
She returned home near dawn, pulling the glasses back on, scrubbing the hint of red lipstick from her lips. Back to being invisible.
Her apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
She glanced at her bed.
And stopped breathing.
Lucien was sitting there. Not his full form, but his outline—defined by darkness and smoldering gold. He leaned back, as if lounging, but his eyes blazed.
“You ran from me.”
“I didn’t sleep,” she whispered, her fingers curling on instinct.
“That doesn’t stop me. Not anymore.”
He rose, gliding over the floor. Each step pulsed with desire, restrained violence, and obsession. His bare chest shimmered with ancient tattoos, symbols lost to time. His voice was low, angry, laced with hurt.
“You starved me, Celestine. I waited every night. You think slipping out of dreams would make me forget your taste?”
She tried to step back. Failed. Her back hit the wall, and he caged her in.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did.” He tilted her chin up. His fingers were scorching. “You punished me. And I’ll return the favor.”
She should’ve been terrified.
Instead, her knees weakened.
His lips hovered over hers, and she could feel every ounce of rage, longing, and lust rippling from his body.
“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Even if the sun burns the sky, Celestine, you are mine.”
She gasped as his mouth met hers—not a kiss, but a storm.
His hands tangled in her hair, her shirt burned away into dream-smoke, and her body responded despite her mind’s protests. This wasn’t reality, but it felt more vivid than life.
Lucien didn’t rush. He devoured.
Her back arched as his lips traced her neck, lower, igniting every nerve he had memorized. He moved like he knew her better than she did—because he did.
But just as her breath caught and her body trembled—
She woke up.
Gasping. Sweating.
Alone.
Her alarm blinked.
7:10 AM.
Her phone buzzed. A message from admin.
"Mr. Kael Ryven requests you bring him the pending finance reports. 8:00 sharp."
Celestine stared at the text, still shaken by Lucien’s dream. Her skin still tingled. Her lips still ached.
“Not real,” she whispered.
But her reflection in the mirror said otherwise.
She quickly covered the hickey blooming on her neck.
At exactly 8:00, she knocked on the top floor office.
“Enter,” came the voice—deep, smooth, commanding.
She stepped inside. Kael sat at the desk, backlit by the rising sun. His jacket was draped over his chair, sleeves rolled, revealing forearms traced with faint scars. A sharp jaw, cold eyes. Beautiful. Dangerous.
“Miss Vale.”
He didn’t smile. But his gaze flicked down her body—then sharply away.
Celestine kept her voice even. “Reports, sir.”
“Thank you.”
She turned to leave.
“Miss Vale.”
She paused.
“People talk about you,” Kael said casually, flipping through the pages. “Say you’re cold. Distant. Frighteningly smart.”
She didn’t answer.
“I don’t believe in rumors.”
“Then don’t,” she replied. “Belief requires faith. I prefer facts.”
Kael looked up. Their eyes met.
Something passed between them. Not desire. Not yet. But awareness.
He nodded. “Dismissed.”
She left, heart steady, breath controlled.
Behind her, Kael tapped her profile folder.
"Curious little ghost," he murmured. "Let’s see what you're hiding."
[END OF CHAPTER 3]
- Writer
