Chapter 16: Temporary Things
1067 Words
Bonny’s POV
I didn’t bother hiding my irritation.
“Does she have a subscription plan?” I asked.
Vanessa coughed suspiciously into her hand.
Celeste entered as if she owned elegance itself.
Cream suit today.
Pearl earrings.
Perfect posture.
Weaponized composure.
Her eyes flicked to me first.
Then to Adrian.
Then back again.
“I see I’m interrupting domestic productivity.”
“You’re interrupting oxygen,” I replied.
Vanessa turned away to hide a smile and quietly exited, closing the door behind her.
Traitor.
Celeste remained standing.
Adrian did not invite her to sit.
That felt deliberate.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Straight to the point.
No warmth.
No history visible.
Interesting.
Celeste gave him a measured look.
“You used to offer coffee before interrogation.”
“You used to value timing.”
Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Score one.
She turned slightly toward me.
“May we speak privately?”
“No,” Adrian and I said together.
We both paused.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Then away first.
Tiny victory.
Celeste’s smile thinned.
“This concerns Adrian’s reputation.”
“Then he can hear it,” I said.
“It concerns yours as well.”
That got my attention.
Adrian’s expression cooled further.
“Speak clearly.”
Celeste folded her hands.
“There are photographs circulating.”
The room went still.
“Of what?” Adrian asked.
“Of your wedding day.”
My pulse stumbled.
Impossible.
Then I remembered.
The magistrate’s office.
The pavement.
The tears.
The chaos.
Someone must have seen.
“Which photographs?” I asked quietly.
Celeste looked at me, almost sympathetically.
“The ones of Bonny crying outside the courthouse.”
Heat flooded my face.
No.
No.
Adrian’s voice cut through sharply.
“Source?”
“A tabloid freelancer sold them to multiple outlets. They’ll publish by tonight unless blocked.”
He was already moving, phone in hand.
“Legal in two minutes,” he said into it. “And media containment now.”
Then he ended the call and looked at Celeste.
“How do you know?”
“I was contacted first.”
“Why?”
She gave a small shrug.
“People assume I’m still relevant to your story.”
That sentence said too much.
I couldn’t breathe properly.
Those pictures.
Me abandoned.
Broken.
Public.
Again.
I turned toward the window so neither of them could see my face.
Of course humiliation had a second wave.
Of course it did.
Behind me, Adrian spoke.
“Leave.”
Celeste was quiet for a beat.
“I came to help.”
“You came to be near the fire.”
Another silence.
Then heels on the floor.
The door opened.
Closed.
She was gone.
I stayed facing the glass.
The city below moved as if nothing mattered.
“I can handle it,” I said.
My voice sounded distant.
Adrian didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“No.”
I turned.
He had set his phone down.
No work in his hands.
No distraction.
Just attention.
That unsettled me more than crisis.
“They’ll say I was dumped,” I said flatly.
“Yes.”
“They’ll say I trapped you.”
“Yes.”
“They’ll say I’m pathetic.”
His eyes hardened.
“No.”
I laughed once.
“You can’t control headlines.”
“No.”
“Then what exactly are you doing?”
He stepped closer.
“Correcting variables.”
“That’s not human language.”
“It’s mine.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it.”
I hated when he did that.
Forced clarity.
I swallowed.
“I was already humiliated once. In private first, then in public. Those photos make it permanent.”
The room went quiet.
His expression changed subtly.
Not softer.
More focused.
As if he had finally located the real injury.
“Come here,” he said.
I almost laughed.
“No.”
“Bonny.”
“No.”
He crossed the remaining distance himself.
Then stopped just in front of me.
Close enough to feel his warmth.
Close enough to leave if I wanted.
I didn’t move.
“You think shame becomes permanent when witnessed,” he said quietly.
I stared at him.
“Yes.”
“That’s because other people taught you to measure yourself through their eyes.”
Something in my throat tightened painfully.
He continued.
“I don’t.”
“Good for you.”
“It can be good for you too.”
I looked away.
“I don’t know how.”
A beat.
Then his hand lifted slowly to my chin, turning my face back toward him.
“You stop giving spectators authority.”
My pulse thundered.
“You make everything sound easy.”
“I make it sound solvable.”
I should have argued.
Instead, I whispered:
“And if I can’t solve it?”
His thumb brushed once against my jaw.
“Then I will.”
The room tilted.
No sarcasm.
No strategy.
No visible armor.
Just promise.
Dangerous man.
My eyes dropped briefly to his mouth.
Mistake.
Because his gaze followed.
Another mistake.
Neither of us moved for one suspended second.
Then he kissed me.
Not tentative.
Not rushed.
Certain.
Like a decision already made.
My hands found his shirt before my brain approved anything.
He pulled me closer, one hand at my waist, the other at the back of my neck.
Every argument I had prepared dissolved instantly.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathing hard.
So was he.
We stared at each other.
Then I said the first stupid thing available.
“That was unprofessional.”
His mouth curved faintly.
“You’re still employed.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then remembered everything.
“The photos.”
“Being handled.”
“Celeste.”
“Irrelevant.”
I searched his face.
“And me?”
The humor vanished.
His answer came low and immediate.
“Increasingly not temporary.”
My heart forgot how to behave.
Before I could respond, there was a sharp knock.
The door opened.
Vanessa stepped in, stopped dead, and slowly looked between us.
My lipstick was probably ruined.
His tie definitely was.
She blinked once.
Then held up a tablet.
“Legal says the photos are blocked.”
A pause.
Then:
“Should I come back when corporate governance is less… intimate?”
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