Driving back after dropping Celine off felt different than anything I'd expected. The car was silent, the streets quieter, but my thoughts? A chaotic, tangled mess.
She'd said "okay."
Just one word, but it had peeled away the layers of formality we'd built like armor. That "okay" echoed in my head as I turned down the last avenue leading to my office—not because I had work to do, but because I wasn't ready to go back to the penthouse. Not yet.
Not with my heart thudding like it had something to confess.
She had looked incredible tonight. Elegant, sharp-witted, with a softness in her smile I hadn't realized I'd been craving to see again. Not the ice-queen executive or the guarded heiress, but the real Celine. The one who laughed with her head slightly tilted back. The one who sipped wine like it was a language she understood better than words.
It was dangerous. I knew it.
We'd promised ourselves we wouldn't get too close. We had an arrangement, not a fairy tale. But tonight had rewritten the rules in a single evening.
Back in my office, I walked to the window, staring out at Velmora's lights shimmering like scattered gold dust across the city. She was somewhere out there, probably unpinning her hair, changing out of that midnight-blue dress, maybe wondering if the evening had meant the same to me as it did to her.
I hoped it had. God, I hoped it had.
I wasn't blind to what was happening between us. It had been building slowly—from shared glances to brief touches, to lingering conversations that started about business and somehow slipped into confessions.
This wasn't part of the plan.
But for once, I didn't care.
I sat down and pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over her name in my messages. I didn't want to be too forward. But I also didn't want to retreat now.
[Me]: I meant what I said tonight. No pressure. But I'm glad you came.
I set the phone down.
Then picked it back up.
[Me]: Also… I owe you another dinner. One where I don't ramble about prep school and bad dance moves.
I hit send before I could overthink it.
The response didn't come right away, and I wasn't expecting it to. She was probably decompressing. Processing. Maybe regretting.
But I wasn't.
Instead, I leaned back, let the stillness settle over me, and remembered the way she looked at me tonight—eyes bright, curious, and just a little vulnerable.
It was that look that haunted me as I drove back home.
—
The penthouse was quiet when I returned. Her door was closed. I paused in the hallway, staring at it for longer than I should have. Wondering if she was awake. Wondering what she'd think if I knocked.
But I didn't.
Instead, I walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and stood there like an idiot.
I couldn't sleep. Not after that night. So I ended up on the balcony, the city breeze brushing against my skin, the memory of her voice in my head.
When she'd teased me over tiramisu, I knew she was letting her guard down. And when she didn't pull away from my touch, I knew—this was more than performance. More than duty.
I just didn't know what came next.
We were still married on paper, sure. But something had changed between us.
For the first time since this all began, I found myself wanting the lines between us to blur.
Not because our families demanded it.
Not because the cameras expected it.
But because when she looked at me like that—when she let herself soften—I forgot why we ever started as enemies.
I wanted to know more. Wanted to see how far this could go if we stopped fighting it.
I wanted more nights like tonight.
I leaned against the balcony railing, watching Velmora hum with late-night life. Somewhere out there, Celine was likely doing the same thing—wondering, hesitating, calculating. That was who she was. Strategic. Reserved. But tonight, I saw another side.
And I liked it.
I stayed outside longer than I should have, letting the cool air soothe the adrenaline still coursing through me. Eventually, I forced myself to head inside and crash on the couch. Sleep came slowly.
—
Morning arrived with a tap on the glass door. Oliver stood there with his ever-present tablet.
"Board prep in an hour. Also, Evelyn wanted me to remind you she sent over that charity auction list for your approval."
"Of course she did," I muttered, sitting up. "Push the board prep by thirty minutes."
He nodded.
As I got ready, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. Tired eyes. Smirk still lingering.
Even under the fatigue, something about last night had grounded me. Made things feel clearer. Like this wasn't just a strategic alliance or some elaborate farce. It was the start of something new. Something fragile. Something worth exploring.
I checked my phone again. Still no reply.
But I didn't panic.
She needed time. And for once, I was willing to give it.
Because this—whatever it was between us—deserved patience.
Deserved a chance.