Chapter 3 But You Have A Fiancée

Celeste's POV

I opened my eyes, and before I could say a word, his lips were already on mine.

Dmitri kissed me like a starving wolf that had finally caught the scent of something — desperate, relentless, unwilling to let go. His broad chest had me pinned in the narrow gap between the sofa and the wall, our bodies tangled together, the air between us thick and suffocating.

His hand slid under the hem of my top. I bent my knee and pressed it against him.

He finally eased back enough to let me breathe. A thread of warmth still lingered between our lips, and even with a sliver of space between us, the air we breathed was entirely each other's.

I looked at him in the dim light.

His eyes were rimmed red. His suit jacket had been tossed somewhere behind him, his tie loose and askew, two buttons torn open in the struggle. All the cold, polished authority he'd carried at the gala was gone. What was left was rawer than that.

"Were you planning to hide from me forever?" His voice was rough.

I turned my head and said nothing.

One hand pressed at my waist, drawing me fully into his shadow. The other cupped my jaw and forced my chin up. "Why didn't you come back?"

I didn't answer.

"Talk to me." His voice dropped, low and cornered, the sound of something pushed too far. "Celeste. Look at me. Talk to me."

I finally raised my eyes and met his — bloodshot, unblinking.

"There's nothing to say."

Something in him ignited.

He bore down over me, one hand locking around the back of my neck, the other gripping my jaw, his mouth coming down harder than before. It wasn't really a kiss. It was a punishment. Or maybe a release — something that had been building far too long finally breaking open.

I couldn't breathe. I beat against his chest with both hands, and he only pressed closer, giving me no room to refuse.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead dropped against mine, his breath coming fast and hot. "Do you think MR partnered with F&G by accident? You thought you could just disappear?"

"You came back, and it never once crossed your mind that you'd see me again?"

He took hold of my hand — still pressed against his chest — and brought it to his lips, brushing the faintest kiss across my knuckles.

"Move back in."

I spoke then. One word.

"No."

I felt him go rigid.

A second later he pulled me off the floor and onto his lap in a single motion, arms locked around me. He was furious — visibly, barely contained — and yet the hold was calibrated with unsettling precision: tight enough that I couldn't pull free, careful enough that it didn't hurt.

"Was I not good to you?" His voice was unsteady, trembling almost imperceptibly. "I thought you were dead. And you were alive — and you never once thought to come back to me."

There was something underneath the anger that I didn't dare look at too closely.

"Hmm? Gone quiet again?" His thumb traced slowly across my lips, as if he could coax the answer out by touch alone.

He wanted to hear me say I couldn't bear to leave him.

Something in my chest, tucked away and carefully held shut, gave way just slightly.

I looked at him and said his name, quietly.

"Dmitri."

My voice barely carried.

"I love you. I'd stay by your side if I could. Is that what you want to hear?"

He stilled.

"But you have a fiancée." I paused. The word sat on my tongue for a moment before I let it go. "Is that what you're asking me to be? Your mistress?"

His pupils contracted sharply.

Then he laughed.

It came up from somewhere deep in his throat — hollow, almost broken, carrying something between absurdity and a grief he hadn't earned the right to show.

He laughed until his eyes went red, and the grip on my wrist loosened without him seeming to notice.

He leaned in close, lips just grazing mine, voice low and frayed at the edges: "Celeste. What kind of man do you think I am?"

He held my gaze. I was quiet for a long moment before I spoke, and when I did, the exhaustion in my voice was impossible to hide.

"Let it go. It's been three years."

I turned to look at the city lights beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"I'm just an ordinary person. I learned my lesson the hard way once — that was enough. I've built a new life. I hope you have too."

There was too much between us — class, name, position. I'd nearly paid for that gap with my life. I was genuinely afraid of it now. We had always belonged to different worlds. There was no point in dragging each other back into the wreckage.

He was already frowning, already opening his mouth —

Ring.

The phone in his jacket pocket cut through everything, dull and insistent, splitting the tension cleanly down the middle.

He swore under his breath, lifted me and set me on the sofa in one smooth motion, then turned to retrieve his jacket from the floor.

I saw the name on the screen. His grandfather — former CEO of F&G.

Dmitri answered. His voice was flat, tightly controlled, all the emotion pressed back down beneath the surface.

I watched his brow knot tighter and tighter. He said only four words before hanging up: "I'll be right there."

He turned back to look at me.

I sat still, hands in my lap, gazing out the window. The light caught the line of my profile and held it there.

He crossed the room, crouched slightly, and let his fingertips brush across my cheek.

"Sleep here tonight." No room for debate in his tone. "Don't go anywhere. Wait for me."

I neither nodded nor shook my head.

He straightened, smoothed down his shirt, and left.

The electronic lock clicked shut. The sound moved once through the empty living room and then faded into silence.

I sat up slowly and put myself back in order — straightening my clothes, smoothing my hair — unhurried, deliberate.

Then I stood and looked around.

The main elevator required his access. I couldn't use that. But when my gaze drifted to the unassuming door beside the kitchen, I stopped.

He'd forgotten. There was a service elevator — a back entrance used by household staff.

And I happened to know the code.

If he hadn't changed it.

I didn't hesitate. I picked up my bag and walked over.

As the elevator doors slid shut, I leaned against the cool metal wall and finally closed my eyes. The car descended without a sound, peeling me away from his world one floor at a time. When I opened my eyes again, my face held nothing but calm.

At the second basement level, I stepped out, walked to the building concierge without breaking stride, and arranged a shuttle to take me across the estate — the kind of compound it would take all night to walk out of on foot.

At the main gate, I flagged down a cab on the street, got in, and let the night swallow me whole.