Chapter 11 - The Heat Before The Storm

A Dinner Meant for Two:

Celeste stepped into Damien’s penthouse, the scent of something rich, and decadent filled the air.

She had expected a catered meal, but instead, of finding a caterer or the cook, she found Damien himself standing in the open-concept kitchen, sleeves rolled up, with a glass of whiskey in one hand.

Celeste arched a brow. “You cook?”

Damien smirked, setting the glass down. “I do a lot of things, Celeste. Cooking happens to be one of them. One that helps me relax when I've had a hard day.”

Her gaze drifted to the dining table, set for two, a single candle flickering between the plates. The entire scene was so unexpectedly intimate.

“Have a seat,” he said smoothly. “I’ll bring everything out.”

Celeste hesitated. She had spent so much of her life in calculated social settings, having lavish dinners, going to red-carpet events, and interviews where every answer was curated to perfection. But this? This felt different. This felt cosy.

She took her seat, crossing her legs as Damien approached with two plates. He set a plated, decked with a perfectly seared steak, truffle mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables before her.

“I never took you for the domestic type,” she teased.

Damien took his seat, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I didn’t take you for the type to be impressed so easily.”

Celeste picked up her fork, suppressing a smile. “Touche, but I'm not.”

As she took her first bite, her expression betrayed her. "It was good."

Damien leaned back, watching her with quiet satisfaction.

For a moment, there was only the clinking of silverware and the hum of the city outside.

Then Damien said, “You handled Mercer well.” His voice was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. “You didn’t just wound him. You ended him.”

Celeste set her glass down, meeting his gaze. “That was the goal, wasn’t it?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Most people would have let me handle it. Most people wouldn’t have had the nerve to go after someone like him alone.”

She arched a brow. “You don’t like people who act without your permission?”

Damien smirked. “I like people who know how to win. You didn’t need me to step in, but I did, but that didn’t make you weak. It made you dangerous.”

There was something in the way he looked at her. It wasn't the look of just another woman in front of him. She was more than just a woman the world knew.

The look he gave her should have terrified her, but it didnt, instead, it thrilled her.

She leaned forward, her voice low. “Tell me, Damien, what do you want out of all this?”

He studied her for a long moment before answering. “I want to see how far you’re willing to go.”

A shiver ran down her spine. Was that nerves? Perhaps it was.

The rest of the meal passed in a charged silence.

Celeste wasn’t naïve she knew this night wasn’t just about dinner. It was about testing boundaries and seeing just how close they could dance to the edge without tumbling over.

When they finished, Damien stood and refilled both their glasses, moving toward the sleek floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Come here,” he murmured.

She hesitated before joining him. The city sprawled beneath them, lights twinkling like scattered diamonds.

Damien handed her a glass. “Enjoying the view?”

Celeste exhaled softly. “It’s beautiful.”

But when she turned her head, she found him already watching her. The weight of his gaze sent heat curling through her veins.

“You’re different than I expected,” he murmured.

Celeste smirked, masking the sudden, unsteady rhythm of her pulse. “Disappointed?”

“Not in the slightest.” His voice was low, the kind that made promises without saying the words.

She should walk away. She should have put distance between them, but she didn’t. Instead, she met his stare head-on, refusing to be the one to break first.

Damien’s lips curved slightly, as if he recognized the challenge for what it was.

Just before either of them could cross that invisible line, his phone vibrated against the table.

Damien’s expression darkened as he glanced at the screen.

Sensing the shift in his persona, Celeste frowned. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer immediately, pressing the phone to his ear instead.

“Speak.”

A pause. Then his jaw tightened.

Celeste could only hear one side of the conversation, but the way his fingers curled around the glass told her everything she needed to know.

Damien ended the call with a sharp exhale, tossing the phone onto the table.

Celeste crossed her arms. “What just happened?”

His eyes met hers, the weight of them heavier than before. “There’s been a leak.”

Her stomach dropped. “What kind of leak?”

Damien’s voice was lethal. “Someone has been digging into our connection, and they’ve found something they shouldn’t have.”

"Be specific, Damien.”

He walked to the bar, pouring himself another drink before answering. “An investigative journalist, someone with serious backing, has started pulling records, financial transactions, and legal dealings. They're digging into ours.”

Her breath hitched. “They’re coming for us?”

Damien turned to face her. “They’re coming for you.”

A cold knot formed in her stomach.

Mercer’s fall had been public and brutal. She'd been warned that this may happen, and now, someone was looking for retribution.

Setting her glass down, she straightened her spine. “Whoever it is, we’ll find them.”

Damien studied her for a moment, then nodded. “We will.”

The energy between them had shifted again. The air was still charged, but now, it was no longer about temptation, it was about war.

Celeste had learned early in life that the higher you climbed, the more people wanted to watch you fall. Unfortunately for them, Celeste never climbed without knowing exactly how to land on her feet. This time though, she wasn't standing alone.

Damien took a slow step forward, his voice calm but sharp as a blade. “This isn’t just some journalist looking for a headline, Celeste.”

Her pulse quickened. “Then what is it?”

He met her eyes, and for the first time that night, there was something cold lurking beneath the surface. “This is a warning.”

A chill ran down her spine. She knew what he meant. "Warnings only ever came juat before the storm hit."