CHAPTER 2
1164 Words
CELESTE
The sun rays peeking through my glass walls made it hard for me to sleep, and it didn't help that Hannah spread the curtains, letting sunlight in.
“Damn! This place is a f*****g mess.”
I heard her but decided to ignore her. She wasn't wrong, though. After I got home last night, I couldn't sleep and decided to have a glass of wine. When that didn't help, I decided to work on my sketches instead—until I fell asleep.
The ground was filled with empty wine bottles and glasses, with unfinished sketches scattered around. “Can you just leave?” I groaned, putting the blanket over my head.
“I can't leave. You have an interview with that journalist from Forbes, and you haven't even gotten ready yet,” she replied.
I gasped and got off the bed immediately. I had been so wrapped up and hung up on Dominic that I didn't remember my meeting today.
“f**k! f**k! f**k!” I cursed, dashing into the bathroom.
I took my bath and changed into something Hannah had prepared. I had minimalist makeup done, and a few minutes later, I was ready—with even a few minutes to spare.
The journalist arrived, and it went smoothly. She asked me questions, which I answered, and even complimented me, calling me 'the woman who rebuilt herself from ashes.'
“Before we round up this interview, I have one last question,” she continued. “There's a picture of you and your ex-husband circulating around.”
She brought out a picture of me and Dominic at the gala, and the way he looked all cozy around me brought about the wrong idea.
“I have to ask if you two are back together?” she inquired.
The question caught me a bit off guard, but after years of media training, I knew what to do in a situation like this. “As you all know, I had a past relationship with Dominic Vance. But that’s just in the past, and I'd love to keep it that way.”
“I'm guessing the interview’s done, right?”
She wanted to say something, but due to the expression on my face, she held herself back and wrapped up everything. “Yes, we are. Thank you for your time today, Miss Moreau.”
We shook hands, and she left with her team afterward. I unknowingly let out a sigh of relief that I didn’t even realize I was holding.
“You know you have to be more careful. Rumors are starting to spread, and the media loves a scandal,” Hannah warned.
The rest of the afternoon dragged by, but my mind didn’t stop running in circles. I couldn’t stop thinking about that picture—about Dominic’s hand at my waist and the way people stared. It felt like history trying to repeat itself, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.
By the time Hannah and I arrived at the boardroom for the investors’ meeting, I had already buried the morning behind layers of professionalism. The elevator doors slid open to reveal the conference room—sleek glass, city view, and men in expensive suits waiting with patient smiles.
“Ms. Moreau,” one of them greeted, standing to shake my hand. I returned the gesture, my lips curving into the polite smile I’d perfected over the years.
But then my gaze caught on someone I hadn’t expected.
A tall man stood by the window, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed like he owned the air around him. His features were familiar—the same strong jawline, the same sharp confidence that reminded me of him—yet softer somehow. His eyes, though—grey instead of Dominic’s stormy blue—held quiet amusement as they settled on me.
“Adrian Vance,” he introduced himself, stepping forward. “Vance Innovations.”
My throat tightened at the last name, but I masked it quickly. “Celeste Moreau,” I replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and when his thumb brushed lightly against mine, whether intentionally or not—it sent an unexpected warmth through me.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, his voice calm and low. “But none of it does you justice.”
I blinked, taken aback for a moment. There was no flirtation in his tone, only quiet confidence, as though he was simply stating a fact. I forced a smile. “I hope what you heard was good.”
“Some of it was exaggerated,” he replied with a faint smirk. “But the part about your work—that was understated.”
Before I could respond, one of the other investors cleared his throat, and the meeting began. We sat down to discuss potential collaborations, numbers, projections—all the usual talk. But my attention kept drifting. Adrian didn’t speak often, but when he did, everyone listened. His words carried a calm weight, his gaze occasionally flickering toward me.
When he finally proposed a partnership—an exclusive collaboration to merge his tech innovations with my fashion brand for a new line—I froze. It wasn’t just ambitious; it was bold.
“What’s your angle?” I asked after the presentation ended, leaning back in my chair.
His lips curved slightly. “Progress. Creativity. Maybe a little revenge.”
I raised a brow at that. “Revenge?”
He met my gaze directly, and something electric passed between us. “Let’s just say… Vance Industries doesn’t deserve to hold the monopoly forever.”
“Think about it,” he said, standing and extending his hand again. “It’s not just business, Ms. Moreau. It’s a statement.”
I took his hand slowly, my heart beating faster than I wanted to admit. “I’ll think about it,” I murmured.
And I did—all through the ride down the elevator, all through the polite goodbyes, all through the moment he offered, “Let me drop you off. It’s late.”
I hesitated but eventually nodded.
His car smelled like cedar and quiet wealth. He didn’t talk much, just drove smoothly through the city lights while soft jazz filled the silence. For once, it didn’t feel awkward—it felt… peaceful.
But peace was short-lived. When we pulled up in front of my building, I saw him.
Dominic.
He stood across the street, leaning against his car, hands shoved in his pockets, watching us. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. But I saw the flicker in his eyes—that same possessiveness I once mistook for love.
My pulse quickened.
Adrian turned to me, unaware of the chaos. “You’re shaking,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, forcing a smile as I reached for the door handle.
But as I stepped out, my gaze met Dominic’s across the street. This wasn’t over.
This was just the beginning.
- Writer
