The First Love He Lost

Celeste's POV

The Carlyle was closed for a private event that night. I stood at Julian's side, my fingertips cold the whole time.

New York's most opulent hotel, the kind of place that normally hosted prime ministers and presidents, was serving only the glittering crowd invited to the anniversary gala of F&G, the international luxury conglomerate.

In January, F&G's largest shareholder had changed hands. The transfer of power was barely complete, which made this year's anniversary more important than most.

No one in my circles dared say the new owner's name aloud. All I'd heard was that he was the heir to a family that had prospered for two hundred years, so rich that even my imagining it felt superfluous.

The people in this room could make an ordinary person disappear with a flick of the fingers.

I couldn't afford to offend them, and I had no intention of trying.

The smoke-gray gown I wore was the safest thing in my closet.

Unremarkable. Inconspicuous. Like my life these days.

Then and now, I'd always found this kind of extravagance tedious.

I'd gathered my hair into a loose knot and kept my eyes lowered, pretending not to notice the glances sliding my way.

Tonight I was here to work, accompanying my boss. All I had to do was my part.

Six months ago, the small company I worked for, MR, had suddenly landed F&G's ready-to-wear contract. Julian was young and ambitious; he'd assembled a team and moved to New York to open a branch without a second thought. I was his secretary—there was no question of my not going with him.

He'd brought me tonight to build connections, and to serve F&G better.

"The F&G executive is up ahead. Come say hello with me." Julian tilted his head, lowering his voice. "Celeste, are you holding up? I only found out once we arrived that the CEO is coming tonight."

His tone was too gentle.

A boss doesn't care whether his subordinate can handle the workload.

I knew he'd been pursuing me, so I pretended not to hear the concern in his voice. "It's all part of the job," I said quietly.

I followed him forward. My gaze drifted, entirely by accident, to a woman standing beside the executive—and my steps jerked to a halt.

She wore a champagne-colored gown. That face—I would never forget it as long as I lived.

Marie.

I'd known I would run into plenty of people from the old days tonight.

But seeing her for real, the memories I'd worked so hard to bury came flooding back.

The violent rain. The churning sea. All those eyes watching me with malice...

The suffocating sensation of seawater pouring into my mouth and nose surged up without warning. A chill ran down my back; I was drenched in cold sweat.

Three years. It was all over. I was no longer the naive, lowly girl I'd been, and I'd long since decided to cut ties with everyone from that life.

I was just an ordinary person. I couldn't compete with the heirs of great families.

These golden children, born with silver spoons in their mouths, had probably forgotten I ever existed.

I looked away and fixed my eyes on the tips of my shoes. But some gazes you can feel without lifting your head.

Marie had recognized me too.

I heard her breath catch. When I looked up again, her delicate face had gone tight and ugly.

She probably thought she was seeing a ghost—someone who should have died in the sea, turning up at this gala.

"Security!"

Marie's shrill voice cut across the hall. The band played on, but the chatter around us died as if a hand had clamped over it.

The executive and Julian both froze.

"What's...?"

Marie ignored them entirely. Her eyes were fixed on me, naked fear and hatred in them. "Who let you in? I don't care if you're a person or a ghost—get out!"

"Miss, is there some misunderstanding?" Julian's brow furrowed. "We were invited—"

"Shut up!" She turned on him too, her finger almost jabbing into his face, and snarled at the security guards hurrying over: "What kind of hotel is this? Letting just anything through the doors?"

The arrogance and spoilt temper in Marie's bones hadn't changed one bit. She shoved me hard and shouted, "Throw her out—and this man with her!"

The guards stood frozen, at a loss.

I felt countless eyes land on me.

I knew this scene too well. It had been the same three years ago—everyone watching, no one speaking up for me.

Back then I could only stand there trembling, head down, unable to get out a single word in my defense.

"You little bitch, haven't you learned your lesson yet?" Marie's words grew more vicious. "What do you think you are, that you'd even deserve—"

I lifted my eyes and met hers. Marie's voice caught in her throat, and what followed was even greater fury.

Before she could go on, I spoke. "My boss and I were invited here as F&G's business partners. May I ask on what grounds you're making decisions for F&G and throwing its partners out? Or is this how F&G treats its guests?"

Before coming back to New York, I'd looked into every one of them.

Marie held no position at F&G, and she wasn't a shareholder. What gave her the right to give orders here? Her family's books weren't impressive either. Word was her father had been keeping his head down lately.

"You little bitch..." Marie recovered, a mocking smile spreading across her face. "What's the use of climbing high? You're nothing but an orphan with no one to lean on."

I didn't answer.

I'd heard that sentence for years. It had long since stopped hurting.

I took in the reactions around the room, and my gaze traveled past the crowd to a certain spot—and my whole body went rigid.

A man stood there.

Tall, in a meticulously tailored black suit, with sharp features and an air of quiet breeding.

I had no idea when he'd arrived, or how long he'd been watching.

An empty space had opened up around him, as if everyone had instinctively drawn back, not daring to come near.

The man was looking at me, his expression somber and cold.

Another familiar face.

Dmitri.

My first love.

Every inch of him radiated the indifference and chill of someone accustomed to power.

Our eyes met for two seconds. I was the first to look away.

The way he looked at me was no different from the way he'd look at a stranger.

"Marie," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but it dropped the temperature of the whole hall by several degrees. "Who are you throwing out?"

The insolence drained from Marie's face in an instant. She was just starting to force out a smile when his stare nailed her to the spot.

So even she, spoilt as she was, didn't dare act out in front of him.

I watched the exchange closely and stood quietly at Julian's side, trying to make myself as small as possible, as if I were not the one Marie had just tried to drive out.

"Lost your tongue?"

Dmitri's sharp gaze swept to Marie, his voice low and cold, carrying a faint edge of irritation and anger that made her tremble.

Then he turned and looked at me.

"You too—lost your tongue?"

Once again, every eye in the room turned to me.