Celeste wasn't thinking clearly when she walked toward him. She didn't need to. That wasn't the point.
If she dared to think, she wouldn't be as brave as she currently is. Her self control would take control.
This wasn't about logic. This was about pain. About the way her heart had just been crushed beneath the soles of Italian leather shoes and expensive laughter. This was about revenge. And maybe, if she was honest, about a little bit of self-destruction.
She spotted him at the bar before she knew what she was going to say. Dominic Cross. Her new addiction.
He looked nothing like Landon, and that was the first blessing. Where Landon was all boyish charm and sugar-coated lies, Dominic was something else entirely. Older, sharper, coarser, and straight.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up just enough to show forearms inked fierce tattoos. His jaw was dusted with salt-and-pepper scruff, and his posture said one thing loud and clear. He needed no one around him.
Looking untouchable made him perfect.
Celeste sat down beside him without asking. Her hands were trembling, but she masked it with a smile and reached for the drink menu she didn't read.
He barely turned his head. "You're a little young to be at this bar, sweetheart."
He sounded deep. He had a careless voice. Low and rough like gravel and velvet in the same breath.
"I'm not here for the drink," she said. "I'm here for you."
That got his attention.
He turned slowly, and for the first time, he really looked at her. God, it hurts to be seen like that. As though he could read her secrets, her cracks, her shame, just by the way she inhaled.
"Do I know you?" he asked.
"No," she said, lifting her chin. "But I know you."
He raised an eyebrow. "Should I be flattered or alarmed?"
Celeste smiled. "Depends on whether you're still Landon's uncle."
That made him pause.
Dominic turned fully now, leaning on the bar, eyes narrowing. "What did he do?"
She scoffed. A sad one, "Made me fall in love with him. Then made me a joke. Two years later, and I was just a bet."
His gaze sharpened, but he didn't say anything. He just reached for his drink, took a slow sip, and then set the glass down.
Celeste kept talking. "I heard him say it. Just now. A week more and I'd be begging him to marry me. Like I'm some… naive charity case he's saving. My dad's dead. My mom's in rehab. I guess that made me easy to collect." She sounded like she was making a report to him.
She looked down. Her fingers curled around the edge of the bar. "He made me a prize in front of his friends. Like I'm not even real."
Dominic was quiet for a moment. Then he questioned, "And you came to me? He paused, "Why?"
Celeste looked up, her eyes burning. "Because he hates you. Because you're older. Richer. More powerful. Because you make him feel small. And if I can make you look at me just once, like you might want me…"
She exhaled. "Then I win." She held her breath, waiting for him to laugh at her, but he didn't.
Dominic exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair, leaning back. "Jesus Christ."
"I'm not a child," she snapped, sounding a bit defensive now. "I know what I'm doing."
"No, you don't," he replied. He didn't sound unkind, just cautious.
There was silence between them.
Celeste's voice was smaller when she asked, "Has anyone ever made you feel like you were disposable?"
Dominic didn't answer. His eyes just softened but his walls returned immediately.
And then, before she could lose her nerve, she opened her almond doe eyes fully, and she whispered, "Let me kiss you."
He blinked, caught off guard.
"I'm not asking for forever," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm asking for one moment that's real. Just one."
Dominic let out a low, frustrated sigh. "Celeste…" he couldn't complete what he had to say. He won't lie, he loved her red lips, and the innocence around her. And those eyes? They unraveled him.
Her lips brushed his cheek before he would recover from her temptation. She stopped at the corner of his mouth. She paused there, trembling, and waiting for him to push her away.
He didn't.
Instead, Dominic turned, just slightly. And when their mouths finally touched, it was quiet and soft and devastating.
It wasn't passion. Not yet. When they pulled apart, his brow was furrowed.
"I shouldn't have done that," he muttered.
"You didn't do it," she said, smiling bitterly. "I did."
Celeste stood, smoothing her dress down, her legs shaking beneath her. "Thank you," she whispered. "That's all I needed."
She stood up and walked away before he would react to what she said. Dominic didn't move.
He just sat there, one hand wrapped around his untouched drink, the other resting flat on the bar like he was grounding himself in reality. His lips still burned with the ghost of hers. She felt soft, desperate, and young.
Too young. She wasn't his type and unless it would be strictly to help her, he would be crossing a line for her.
And yet, all he could think about was how she didn't taste like inexperience. He wanted her now, in ways he never thought he would.
God help him. He turned his head slowly to glance toward the door, and she was already gone.
Dominic dragged a hand down his face. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath.
The bartender came by, gave him a curious glance. "You good, Mr. Cross?"
No.
No, he absolutely wasn't.
"Start me a tab," he said. "I'll be here a while."