Damien had asked her once. "Do you even want a family with me?" And she'd smiled, that careful, cool smile, and said something about not being ready, about her career, her body, her time. She said all the right things, except the truth.
The truth was: she didn't want it with him.
And he kept waiting. He kept asking. Year after year.
She never said it outright, but he saw it. In her eyes. The absence of warmth. The flicker of contempt when he brought up children. Like he was selfish for wanting something so simple.
A family. Someone to come home to.
That was all he ever wanted.
And for years, he had blamed himself for her indifference.
Maybe he wasn't romantic enough. Maybe he didn't listen enough. Maybe he wasn't the kind of man she wanted to love. So he tried harder. Gave her flowers without occasion. Cooked for her on weekends. Took her out to places she liked. Bought her the things she eyed from afar but wouldn't ask for.
But her affection was always conditional. A show. A flicker of intimacy when people were watching, then cold withdrawal once the doors closed.
He wasn't blind. He wasn't stupid. He knew what distance felt like. But pride kept him there. Marriage is work, he told himself. She's just going through something. She'll come back around.
But she never did.
He wondered now — what was it all for?
Was it love for her at all? Or was he simply… convenient?
Now, sitting alone, his body still bearing the warm, burning imprints of Celeste's hands and lips, he could feel the chasm of difference.
Celeste… she didn't make him work to be loved.
She didn't shrink from him. Didn't act as if wanting warmth, closeness, or affection was a flaw.
With her, it was easy. Natural.
It wasn't just about sex — although even that had been an awakening. But it was the way she looked at him. Like he mattered. Like she saw him as a man with emotions, flaws, needs, and not just a figure to display on her arm.
He exhaled, long and tired.
And yet…
What about all those nights with Sepharina?
What about the years?
Were they nothing?
Were they lies?
There were moments. Quiet ones. When he thought he saw something in her gaze that felt like fondness. The rare times when they'd dance at a gala, and she'd rest her head on his shoulder. Or when she'd curl her fingers around his wrist in public — possessively, almost. And he'd think, She chose me.
But now he wasn't sure if she ever truly wanted him.
Maybe she wanted the version of him the world praised. The polished, accomplished, composed Damien Leclair — not the man who cried alone in his office, who ached for things she never cared to give.
Damien stood slowly, walking to the window and looking out over the city. Lights blinked in patterns far below. A city that never stopped moving, much like the thoughts in his head.
Maybe what hurt the most wasn't that Sepharina didn't love him — maybe it was that he stayed so long hoping she would.
And now, Celeste…
He ran a hand down his face, and this time, the corner of his lips twitched faintly. Celeste was a storm — passionate, unpredictable, overwhelming — and yet, with her, he breathed.
He didn't know what lay ahead. He didn't even know if he was ready for it.
But he knew this — for the first time in years, when he looked into someone's eyes, he didn't see expectation or cold indifference.
He saw something terrifyingly simple.
Care.
Affection.
Hope.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for him to keep going.
The next day at Blackridge
The morning sun filtered softly through the tall glass windows of the office, casting a gentle glow over the sleek desks and humming computers. Celeste sat upright, her fingers flying over the keyboard with steady determination. Despite the night they had shared, despite everything that had happened between them, she showed no sign of distraction. No lingering glances toward Damien's office, no whispered questions or lingering touches—just pure focus.
Damien watched from his corner, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. There was a strength in her that went beyond what he had seen before—a quiet resilience. She didn't lean on him. She didn't expect anything. She simply did what needed to be done, just as she always had.
It was a realization that unsettled him more than he expected.
He remembered the usual clichés: after something as intense as last night, things should be different. There should be awkwardness or longing, some unspoken tension waiting to snap. But with Celeste, it was as if she was drawing a clear line between what happened in the quiet moments behind closed doors and the bright fluorescent light of the office.
She was all business now. Fierce, capable, unwavering.
Damien felt an unfamiliar pang of admiration—and a hint of something else. Was it guilt? Relief? Or maybe just the dawning understanding that this woman wasn't going to be swept off her feet by a few stolen moments. She had her own life, her own fight.
He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his own tangled emotions. He wanted to say something. To break the silence between them with words that might explain the mess of feelings swirling inside him. But he didn't. Instead, he simply watched.
And Celeste? She kept typing, unaware of the way Damien's gaze lingered on her, as if trying to memorize every detail of her steady, focused presence.
The large conference room hummed with the quiet murmur of voices as the heads of all departments filed in one by one, taking their assigned seats around the polished mahogany table. The atmosphere was professional, but a current of underlying tension floated just beneath the surface — a tension Damien could feel deep in his gut.
Celeste sat near the center, poised and confident in her sleek blazer, her fingers lightly tapping on the notebook in front of her as she reviewed the agenda. She seemed utterly composed, the epitome of focus, and yet Damien's eyes wouldn't leave her. Something about her presence pulled his attention, even when she wasn't looking at him.
Beside her sat Ethan Fairchild — the youngest CEO the company had seen in decades. At just twenty-three, Ethan was a fresh face in the corporate world, having taken the helm from his retiring father less than a year ago. His youthful energy was palpable, his sharp suits a stark contrast to his boyish features, and his bright, calculating eyes fixed unwaveringly on Celeste as she prepared to speak.
Damien swallowed hard, feeling a sudden twist in his gut that he couldn't quite explain. Ethan's gaze was intense, almost possessive in the way it lingered on Celeste — and that set off a strange fire of unease in Damien's chest. He wasn't used to feeling challenged in his own domain, especially not by someone so much younger, and yet there was something about the way Ethan looked at Celeste that made Damien's protective instincts flare.
The meeting was called to order, and the senior manager began outlining the company's quarterly performance. Damien nodded absently, watching as Celeste's hand rose with confidence to make a point about the marketing strategy. Her voice was calm but firm, articulating ideas with a precision that captivated not only the room but Ethan in particular.
Ethan leaned slightly closer, his gaze softening into something almost admiring, and Damien's jaw tightened. The unspoken challenge was clear — this young CEO saw something in Celeste that threatened to unbalance Damien's carefully constructed world.
Celeste glanced toward Damien briefly, as if sensing his watchful eyes, but she made no sign of distraction. Instead, she redirected her attention to the meeting, clearly aware of the importance of every word. Her professionalism was unshakable, yet Damien felt the storm inside himself growing.
As the discussion progressed, Ethan began asking pointed questions — not just to Celeste but to others, but always circling back to her input. It was evident he valued her opinions highly, a fact that simultaneously pleased and disturbed Damien. There was no denying Celeste's talent, but Damien was accustomed to being the central figure in her world, not watching as another man subtly edged his way in.
The room shifted when the topic of an upcoming product launch arose. Celeste's Insights on targeting a younger demographic were sharp and innovative, drawing approving nods from several heads. Ethan smiled approvingly, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes, while Damien forced a neutral expression, his mind racing.
He wondered if Celeste felt the weight of their silent triangle — the protective husband, the ambitious CEO, and the woman caught in between.
When the meeting finally wrapped up, people began to file out, exchanging polite remarks. Ethan lingered near Celeste's side, speaking to her quietly but earnestly about the next steps, his tone a mix of encouragement and something more personal.
Damien stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Celeste, if you have a moment, I'd like to discuss the budget review."
Celeste gave Damien a quick, reassuring smile. "Of course."
As the two moved toward a quieter corner of the room, Ethan watched them with a subtle smirk. Damien felt a flush of determination rise within him — this was no longer just about business. It was about claiming what mattered most.
And Damien was not about to back down.
Just as Damien and Celeste started to rise from their seats to leave the conference room, a smooth, confident voice cut through the murmurs of departing heads.
"Wait, wait," Ethan called out, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Celeste, I just wanted to say — you were unforgettable at the gala last night."
Celeste glanced at him, a slow, amused smile curling on her lips. "Ethan," she said lightly, "you do have a knack for remembering faces."
"I believe you called me 'Ethan' that night," he teased, his tone low enough that Damien was forced to lean in closer to catch it, the words landing like a deliberate whisper meant for both of them.
Damien's heart clenched in his chest. That moment — the casual, teasing way Celeste used Ethan's name, in front of him — sent a sharp pang through Damien, a lingering sting of jealousy he hadn't expected to feel so acutely.
Ethan took a step closer, eyes locked on Celeste's with an unsettling mix of charm and challenge. "You know, young people like us," he said, voice dropping just a fraction, "we tend to be… energetic."
His gaze flicked briefly toward Damien, and Damien could feel the undercurrent behind the words — not just a comment on vitality, but something much more suggestive, an unspoken insinuation about how well Ethan thought he could keep Celeste satisfied.
Damien felt the sting immediately — the suggestion that Ethan's youth gave him an advantage, that maybe he could satisfy Celeste in ways Damien could not.
The room seemed to close in on Damien. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came.
The silence was deafening.
Celeste simply rolled her eyes again and shrugged, clearly unimpressed by Ethan's thinly veiled innuendo.
But Damien? He was burning inside, trapped in a web of jealousy, fear, and desire.
Damien's throat went dry, and for a moment, no words came. Ethan's smirk deepened, the subtle power play hanging heavily in the air between the three of them.
Celeste's eyes darted between the two men, sensing the tension, but she only offered a slight raise of her eyebrow, an unspoken invitation for Damien to respond.
But Damien was frozen, caught off guard by the insinuation and the boldness of Ethan's delivery. The usually sharp and controlled Damien found himself struck silent, his usual confidence rattled by the younger man's audacity.
Ethan's eyes glinted with satisfaction. "I have to say, watching you two dance… I could see something there. Something electric."
He let the words hang, heavy with meaning. Damien's jaw clenched. The room seemed to shrink around him, every word a calculated jab.
Celeste's smile remained poised, but Damien noticed the flicker of amusement in her eyes — was it delight at the game being played, or something else?
"I guess young energy has its perks," Ethan added with a casual shrug, the edge in his tone unmistakable.
Damien finally forced himself to inhale deeply, regaining a fraction of composure. "We should get back to work," he said quietly, his voice low but firm.
Ethan chuckled, stepping back but leaving his smirk firmly in place. "Of course. Just remember — the world belongs to those who take what they want."
With that, Ethan nodded to Celeste and exited, leaving Damien and Celeste alone in the room, the tension lingering like smoke.
Damien's gaze flickered to Celeste, searching for any hint of what she thought about Ethan's boldness.
Celeste met his eyes with a steady, unreadable look. "He's young. Energetic," she said softly, a teasing smile touching her lips. "But not exactly subtle."
Damien exhaled, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the churning in his chest. "That much is obvious."
She stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm lightly. "Don't let him get to you."
Damien's eyes darkened with a mix of protectiveness and desire. "Not a chance."
In that moment, Damien knew the fight was just beginning — and he wasn't about to lose what was already his.