Chapter 4 We Have A Working Relationship
Celeste's POV
It was four in the morning when I got back to my apartment.
I didn't even take off my shoes. I just dropped onto the bed.
The place was small, but it was mine — every square foot of it. No one could touch me here.
I raised my hand and scrubbed at my mouth. Dmitri's taste was still there. Mint, whiskey, and that other thing underneath — the familiar, completely unreasonable thing that was just him.
Shit. What was I doing?
I had prepared for this. Before coming back to New York, I'd stood in front of a mirror and rehearsed it until the words came automatically. If I saw him, I'd look through him. If he spoke to me, I'd keep it professional.
And then what happened?
When he kissed me, I didn't pull away. Not right away. My heart was slamming against my ribs, and I still couldn't shake him — three years later, and I still couldn't shake him.
I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow.
Stop.
I told myself three times: He has a fiancée. He has a fiancée. He has a fiancée.
There was no place for me in his life. There hadn't been three years ago. There certainly wasn't now.
My phone buzzed on the pillow beside me.
A text from the hospital.
Your mother Eleanor's medication fees for this month remain unpaid. Please complete payment by the end of this week.
I stared at the message for a long time.
My mother had been sick for years. Her medication was staggeringly expensive — one month's supply cost more than two months of my salary. Every time she called, she said she was fine, told me not to worry. The more she said it, the more I knew things weren't fine.
She always worried about me more than she let me worry about her. She'd swallow the pain and tell me everything was okay, just to keep me from losing sleep. She was the most important person in my world. The only real comfort I had.
That was part of why I came back to New York.
Not for anyone. Not to settle old scores. For money. The salary and equity package MR was offering was the best I could find.
So whatever happened last night, I could not lose this job.
I opened my banking app and checked the balance again. I was still short by half.
I let out a breath and set the phone face-down on my chest, closed my eyes. I'd barely started to drift when it buzzed again.
Julian: Celeste, sorry for the early message. F&G just notified us — there's a coordination meeting at nine this morning, and they've specifically requested your attendance.
I sat up.
I was a secretary. Why would they request me by name for a client meeting?
Had Dmitri arranged this? He'd actually show up in person for something this small?
I'd run out of his apartment last night. And now I was supposed to sit across from him and pretend nothing had happened?
He did this on purpose.
He had to.
I typed back one word: Okay.
Then I managed a few restless hours of sleep, got up, and splashed water on my face. The woman in the mirror had swollen eyes. I ran cold water over my face for ten minutes, then layered on some concealer to deal with the shadows underneath.
Ten minutes to nine, I stepped into the F&G elevator with Julian.
He kept looking at me.
"You look exhausted," he said. "Bad night?"
"I'm fine."
"If you're not feeling well, I can try to get you out of this."
"Don't. It's work. You pay me well enough — I can handle it."
He was quiet for a moment. "That man last night — the one who had his security bring you out. Do you know him?"
My fingers shifted slightly.
"It doesn't matter. It's handled."
Julian turned to look at me. His expression was gentle in a way that made my chest tighten.
"Celeste," he said quietly. "You don't have to carry everything alone."
"I know."
The answer came fast.
But what I was actually thinking was: You're the last person I want to owe.
He was too good to me. Good enough that every time I accepted anything from him, I felt like I was taking something I hadn't earned. I couldn't return his feelings, and I refused to string him along.
So I kept my distance.
The elevator chimed.
The conference room door swung open.
Dmitri was already there, seated at the head of the long table. He'd actually come himself — lowering himself to attend a meeting like this. He'd changed his tie since last night. He was leaning over a document, and he didn't look up.
My heart lurched.
Fuck. He looked completely unaffected.
The man who'd held me with red-rimmed eyes last night — it was as if he'd never existed.
I found a seat near the edge of the table. Julian sat beside me.
The project director, Ethan, stood and shook Julian's hand with a practiced smile. I recognized him. Three years ago, he'd moved in Marie's orbit — one of those people who always knew exactly whose approval to court. He recognized me too. His smile faltered for half a second, then reset.
A cold feeling crept up the back of my neck.
He was F&G's project director now. Which meant I'd be dealing with him regularly.
The meeting began.
Ethan ran through the process, the figures, the delivery schedule for the ready-to-wear line. Julian responded steadily. I flipped through the documents in front of me and absorbed nothing.
I was aware that Dmitri hadn't looked at me.
Not once.
Good, I told myself. That's good.
I thought it, and my fingers creased the edge of the page without meaning to.
Near the end of the meeting, he finally spoke.
"The liaison from MR's side," he said, his voice unhurried, "will be Celeste."
The room went quiet.
Julian straightened. "Mr. Dmitri, Celeste is my personal assistant. If you need a dedicated liaison, we have more senior project managers who—"
"I want her."
He still hadn't looked up from the table.
Julian opened his mouth, then turned to me. I looked back at him. I wanted to shake my head, to say this wasn't appropriate.
Then Dmitri raised his eyes — just for a moment, just long enough to land on Julian.
Julian swallowed whatever he'd been about to say.
I gripped the pen in my hand.
He wouldn't even look at me, but a single sentence was enough to pin me exactly where he wanted me.
What was this supposed to be?
Punishment? Something else?
I couldn't tell.
The meeting broke up. Julian headed for the door; I moved to follow. Ethan called out from behind me.
"Celeste, hold on a moment — a few handover details."
Julian glanced back, brow furrowed. I nodded at him. "I'll be right out."
The door closed.
Just me and Ethan. Dmitri had already left his seat.
Ethan leaned against the table, and the polished professionalism dropped off him immediately.
"We've met before," he said.
"Maybe."
"Three years ago. In Marie's circle." A short laugh. "Weren't you supposed to be dead?"
I didn't answer.
"Quite the comeback," he said, looking me over. "Was Dmitri here today because of you?"
"I wouldn't know. I'm here to work."
"Work." He scoffed. "How does a small operation like MR suddenly land F&G's ready-to-wear line? What exactly did you do to make that happen?"
My fingers curled slowly at my side.
"We won the contract through standard process. Feel free to look into it."
"Oh, I will." He took a step toward me. "Do you have any idea how many nights Marie has lost sleep over you, these past three years?"
I almost laughed.
She lost sleep?
When I was choking on seawater, what was she doing?
"That's her concern, not mine," I said.
"Excuse me?"
"You asked. I answered."
"Fine. Let me ask you something else." He dropped his voice. "Last night, Dmitri had his people take you somewhere. Where did you go?"
"Home."
"Whose home?"
"Mine."
"Right." He tilted his head. "You expect me to believe that? You're nothing but a—"
"Ethan."
I cut him off.
"If you have concerns about MR, go through the proper channels. If these are personal questions, I'm not obligated to answer them."
His expression hardened.
"One last question. What exactly is your relationship with Mr. Dmitri?"
I looked at him.
Three years ago, a question like that would have undone me. I would have looked at the floor, waited for someone else to answer for me.
Not anymore.
"Dmitri and I are not close," I said, keeping my voice level.
"We have a working relationship. That's all."
The words left a pressure in my chest, like something pressing against the inside of a closed door.
Ethan's expression shifted.
His gaze moved past me, to something over my shoulder.
