Twisted Obsession

The Edge of a Dangerous Game

Adrian's lips pressed against Celeste's, hot, desperate, and full of everything they had both been fleeing from, drowning out the muffled music from the club as her pulse pounded in her ears.

This was careless.

This was risky.

She did not care, though, for the first time in a long time.

Adrian's hands closed around her waist, drawing her unnaturally nearer as his body pressed against hers as if he had been anticipating this moment all along. Perhaps he had. Perhaps they had both.

She was warned to stop by a tiny voice in her head.

To recall his identity.

To recall her identity.

Every sensible thought vanished as Adrian's fingers sank into her hair, tilting her head back and intensifying the kiss.

At this time, she was not Damian's wife. She was not the woman who had based her entire existence on deceit and shaky trust.

Celeste was all she was. Adrian was simply Adrian.

However, reality was harsh.

She was startled back to reality by the piercing buzz of her phone vibrating against her thigh.

She stopped.

Adrian must have sensed the change because he drew back a little, his forehead against hers, his breathing laboured. He tightened his hold on her, as though sensing her impending flight.

He whispered, "Celeste," in a needy, husky voice.

She broke the moment by turning her head away.

As she reached for her phone, her fingers shook and a name that made her stomach turn lit up on the screen.

Damian.

She burst out laughing bitterly. Naturally. He would call right now, of course.

Rejecting the call, she swallowed hard.

Adrian's jaw tightened as he watched her, his eyes growing gloomy. "He still believes you are his."

Something unreadable and sharp flashed between Celeste's eyes as they met his. "Does he not?"

Adrian's face became stern. "No."

Something inside her cracked at the conviction in his voice, but she chose to ignore it. She had grown too mature to still believe in fairy tales.

She let out a breath and gently pushed him away by placing her palms against his chest. "This... was an error."

Adrian tensed up and tightened his hold on her waist before letting her go. Something she could not identify—disappointment, anger, something deeper—burned in his grey eyes.

In an attempt to regain her balance, Celeste turned away and ran a hand through her hair.

Tonight, she had come here to forget, to demonstrate her continued dominance. However, she had never been able to control Adrian.

She had simply gotten too close to the flames, and he was wildfire.

Adrian said, "Celeste," in a calmer, lower voice that was just as passionate.

Despite her hesitation, she did not look back.

Do not flee from this," he advised. "From us."

She gasped. We. as though they were real. As though they had ever been permitted to exist.

She made herself get up and shook her head. "Adrian, there is no us. There was never any.

She did not wait to hear back from him.

She turned to leave.

Returning to the Penthouse

Celeste stared straight ahead, her mind a jumble of ideas, while the city lights flickered outside the car's tinted windows.

Exhaustion had become ingrained in her bones by the time she arrived at the penthouse she shared with Damian.

He was waiting for her, which did not surprise her.

With a glass of scotch in hand and his silhouette lit by the city skyline, Damian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Without turning, he said, "Late night?"

Celeste did not pay attention to how his voice chilled her. It had once given her a sense of security. It was tightening around her throat now, like a noose.

She took off her heels and moved past him in the direction of the bedroom. "I was unaware that I had a curfew."

At last Damian turned to her and chuckled softly. Something unreadable gleamed in his green eyes.

"You don't," he remarked as he sipped his drink slowly. "However, you also typically do not ignore my calls."

The fingers on Celeste's sides clenched into fists. "Perhaps I was not in the mood to talk."

Damian hummed as he studied her with the piercing eyes that had always seemed to be able to see right through her.

He thought, "You smell like whisky." "And... another thing."

Her heart thumped.

Adrian.

She was aware that Damian could detect even the smallest odours. He had always had keen intuition and a keen sense of perception.

Celeste made herself maintain a neutral look. "I was in a club."

A smirk formed on Damian's lips. "Are you now?"

That smile was something she detested. despised the way it always made her feel like a cat playing with a mouse.

He stepped closer and said, "I hope you had fun," with ease.

Celeste resisted the impulse to back off. She refused to show him how afraid she was.

"I did," she said, looking him in the eye.

Reaching out to brush a flyaway hair behind her ear, Damian laughed. Something flickered in his eyes and she flinched before she could stop herself.

annoyance.

His breath was warm against her skin as he leaned closer. Celeste, you are free to do as you please. See whoever you like. However, in the end... Cold and possessive, his fingers moved down her arm. "I still own you."

Her pulse pounded against her ribs as she took a deep breath.

Adrian was unable to comprehend this.

She was unable to simply leave.

Damian was not a man who readily parted with his belongings. Furthermore, despite her desire to think she was free, she wasn't.

Not just yet.

However, one day...

She would be one day.

Damian Morgan would later come to regret ever believing he had her.