Novelas de Celine Best

Clara’s POV"Does this mean it’s settled?" Mr. Sterling’s voice was full of hope, his eyes bright as he looked between me and Kiran.My heart plummeted. "No," I blurted out, the word feeling like a gasp for air. "I... I don’t think I want to get married right now."Mr. Sterling’s smile faded, but he nodded kindly. "It’s okay, child. I’m not forcing you. If that is your choice, it is totally fine."I let out a breath of relief, but it was cut short when I caught Mrs.Victoria’s gaze. She was staring at me with a look so sharp it felt like a physical blow. She didn't say a word, but her silence was a death sentence.After dinner, I hurried to the kitchen to help the head maid with the dishes, desperate to hide. until the heavy swinging door slammed against the wall. I turn around, my heart leaping into my throat.Mrs. Victoria stood there, her face a mask of cold, aristocratic fury.Before I could even mutter a greeting, her hand blurred through the air.SLAP."Ma'am, I—" I started, my

Clara’s POVThe weight of the brown envelope in my bag felt like a lead brick. Inside were the investment documents Kiran had handed me—the "bait" for the trap he was setting. My heart hammered against my ribs as I walked toward the bus stop, every shadow on the street looking like one of Mrs. Victoria’s spies.I looked at my hand. The red mark from the tea had faded into a dull ache, but the memory of Kiran’s cold, dark smile stayed fresh in my mind. He called me a "rat," but today, I felt more like a ghost—haunting a life that wasn't mine.I can do this, I whispered, clutching the strap of my bag. Just give her the papers. Take the fakes. Get back to the valley.But as the bus pulled up to the stop near Mrs. Victoria’s neighborhood, my stomach did a nervous flip. Kiran was a storm—loud, terrifying, and unpredictable. But Victoria was a spider; she sat perfectly still and waited for you to get stuck in her web. If she realized I was working with Kiran, she wouldn't just fire

Kiran’s POVThe glass shards of the teacup were still scattered on the floor, glinting like jagged diamonds under the harsh kitchen spotlights. I leaned against the counter, watching her—Clara—scramble to pick them up. Her small hands were shaking so violently I could hear the porcelain clicking against the tile.I should have felt a flicker of guilt, but honestly? It was interesting. My life was a monotonous cycle of cold boardrooms and the chemical haze of drugs. This "little rat" my aunt had dropped into my house was the first thing in months that actually made me feel... awake.The Next MorningI woke up with the familiar, dull throb behind my eyes. I knew the rat would be in the kitchen, probably terrified to breathe the same air as me. I wanted to break her spirit today. I wanted her to work until she realized that begging me for mercy was her only option. I wasn't going to the office—at least not yet. It was the perfect time to play with my new toy.As I sat in the high-

Clara’s POVThe next morning I could not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those cold, bloodshot eyes of his and felt the phantom pressure of his hand around my throat. The sun peeking through the expensive silk curtains of my new room felt like a cruel joke. I smoothed out my uniform. The fabric was crisp and stiff, smelling of starch and industrial lavender. Looking in the mirror, I didn't recognize the girl staring back. I looked like a professional maid, but I felt like a lamb that had accidentally wandered into a lion’s den.Stepping into the main hallway of the villa felt like walking onto a battlefield. The house was suffocatingly quiet—the kind of silence that happens right before a storm breaks. I made my way to the kitchen,my footsteps echoing too loudly on the floor. My task was simple: make his coffee and wait.But the moment I entered the kitchen, He was already there. he was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, bathed in the morning light. He looked s

Clara’s POVThe neon lights of the club always made my head ache, but tonight, the air felt heavier than usual.I was just a ghost in a uniform, moving through the thumping bass and the smell of expensive spilled liquor. When I was suddenly assigned to deep-clean the VIP suite on the third floor, I expected to find empty champagne bottles and silk ties.I didn't expect to find him.He was tall—sharp-edged like a jagged piece of glass—and devastatingly handsome in a way that felt dangerous. But he wasn't dancing or drinking. He was hunched over, his veins standing out against his pale skin as he pressed a cold syringe into his arm. My breath hitched in my throat. I knew men like this; men with too much money and too little soul. If he saw me, he’d hunt me just for witnessing his weakness.I scrambled behind a heavy velvet curtain, my heart hammering against my ribs. Just stay quiet, I pleaded with myself. Just let him finish and leave.Suddenly, my pocket vibrated. The sharp p