THE BAIT THAT STOLE HIS HEART

Chapter 5

Ambrose’s POV

Killian strode into my study that evening, his face already set in that irritated expression he wore whenever he knew I was about to ask something of him.

He stopped a few feet from my desk, arms crossed.

“What now?” he asked, voice flat.

I leaned back in my chair, watching him. “Celeste has agreed.”

He did not react at first. Then, his jaw ticked. “And?”

“And you are meeting her for dinner tomorrow night. No arguments.”

Killian rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “So that is it? She says yes, and now I have to parade around like some lovesick fiance?”

I gave him a level stare. “You will do what is required of you. You know what is at stake.”

He exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. “Fine. I’ll go.” He turned to leave, but I called out before he could step away.

“This isn’t a game, Killian,” I said. “You play your role, or you lose everything. It is very simple. Bye.”

He did not look back when he replied. “I got it the first thousand times, old man.”

*****

Killian’s POV

The restaurant was as upscale as expected, golden lights, quiet piano music, and the scent of overpriced wine and truffle-infused dishes hanging in the air.

I arrived exactly on time, not a second earlier or later. I was not here to impress anyone.

And then I saw her.

Celeste sat at a private table near the back. She wore a sleek black dress, her posture straight, her expression unreadable.

But what caught me off guard was how striking she looked, not in a delicate, fragile way, but in a way that demanded attention.

I smirked slightly, a memory flashing in my mind. The last time I had seen her, she had an out burst in my office.

And now, we were here, forced into something neither of us wanted. Who could tell what her reaction would be.

I made my way to the table, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Celeste.”

She inclined her head slightly. “Killian.”

The waiter came by to pour wine, and for the first few minutes, we engaged in the dullest, most awkward small talk imaginable, how our day was, if we liked the restaurant, the usual polite nonsense neither of us actually cared about.

After a few more sips of wine, I exhaled and leaned back in my chair. “Let us just be honest, Celeste. This marriage? It is not what either of us wants.”

Her fingers traced the rim of her glass. “Then what do you suggest?”

“That we stay out of each other’s way,” I said. “We do what’s necessary, make our grandfathers happy, and once that’s done, we live separate lives.”

She considered my words carefully, then met my gaze. “And if I don’t agree?”

I smirked. “Then I guess we’ll be stuck playing house.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but before she could respond, I decided to drop the real bombshell.

Leaning forward, I lowered my voice, making sure every word hit.

“Tell me, Celeste,” I said, my tone dangerously calm. “Would you still go through with this if I told you I already have a woman in my life?”