Chapter 11
786 Words
Celina
Celina stared at the open wardrobe like it had personally offended her.
Too safe.
Too serious.
Too… not him.
She exhaled and dragged out a dress she’d bought on impulse months ago and never worn—a black slip that clung where it shouldn’t and revealed more thigh than practicality allowed. The fabric skimmed her curves like it knew exactly what it was doing. Thin straps. Low back. Short enough to make her feel powerful and exposed all at once.
She left her hair loose, a tumble of chocolate waves over bare shoulders, added minimal makeup—gloss, lashes, confidence she wasn’t entirely sure she possessed.
She looked like trouble.
Good.
Then reality hit.
She froze, phone in hand.
She didn’t have Elliot’s number.
Didn’t know where dinner was.
Didn’t know how she was meant to get there.
Typical.
She was reaching for her jacket when headlights swept across the courtyard.
A sleek black car rolled to a silent stop as if summoned by her thoughts.
The driver stepped out. “Miss Sheppard?”
Her stomach flipped.
“Yes?”
“Mr Elliot sent me.”
Of course he did.
She slid into the back seat, pulse thrumming as the car pulled away. As Seattle blurred past the windows, her thoughts spiraled.
What does he actually do?
No assistant badge. No lab coat. No cubicle. Yet suits like liquid shadow, cars like weapons, confidence that bent rooms around him.
Whatever department he worked in, it wasn’t ordinary—and it paid in power, not just money.
The car stopped.
Flashes exploded the moment her door opened.
Paparazzi.
Before she could react, security closed in, forming a wall as she was ushered through a side entrance of one of the most exclusive nightclubs in the city—the kind with velvet ropes, whispered names, and rules that didn’t apply to everyone.
They led her upstairs, down a hushed corridor, into a private room overlooking the dance floor below. Sound muted. Lights low. Privacy absolute.
Her heart hammered.
Then the door opened again.
Elliot entered.
He wore a tailored dark suit, no tie, white shirt open at the throat. Billionaire didn’t begin to cover it—he looked like ownership incarnate. Like he belonged everywhere he stood.
Her breath caught despite herself.
“Alright,” she said before he could speak. “What the hell is going on?”
His gaze swept over her, slow and unapologetic, approval darkening his eyes.
“You look exactly as you should,” he said.
“That’s not an answer.”
He poured a drink, unhurried. “You wanted dinner. This is dinner.”
“You don’t work here,” she pressed. “You don’t live like a normal employee. You don’t behave like one either. So tell me—who are you really?”
He met her stare, expression closing just enough to frustrate her.
“Someone who doesn’t lie,” he said. “And someone who doesn’t explain himself before it’s necessary.”
She scoffed. “Convenient.”
“Effective,” he corrected.
The tension between them coiled tighter as the night unfolded—conversation sharp, charged, circling truths neither was ready to hand over.
At one point, he mentioned a family event casually, like it meant nothing.
“You should come with me,” he said. “Meet them.”
Her brows rose. “Your family?”
“Yes.”
That alone felt like a door cracking open.
Later, the car took her back to the property.
The poolhouse lights glowed softly as they stepped inside. The air between them thickened, words abandoned for proximity.
His hand brushed her wrist.
Her breath stuttered.
For a moment, it felt like inevitability.
Then Elliot’s gaze shifted.
The pool.
The still water caught the light—and something in him shattered.
He went rigid. His face drained of color.
“No,” he muttered, stepping back. “This was a mistake.”
“Elliot—”
“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he said sharply, already moving away. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”
Confusion flared into anger. “You don’t get to decide that now.”
But he was already retreating, panic overtaking control.
“I can’t,” he said, voice rough. “Not like this.”
And then he was gone.
The car roared to life and disappeared down the drive, leaving Celina standing barefoot on the stone floor—heart racing, body aching, mind burning with unanswered questions.
She stared after him, fury and longing twisting together.
“Unbelievable,” she whispered.
Mr Tall, Dark, and Troubled had just declared war on her patience.
And she wasn’t the kind of woman who backed down.
- Writer
