CHAPTER 4

CELESTINE POV

The drive back to the mansion was suffocating. Cyrus sat on the other side of the leather seat, staring out into the dark night, his jaw clenched tight. He hadn't said a single word since we left the gala. The protective alpha who had just threatened to ruin my stepmother had completely vanished, replaced by the icy stranger I married.

Once we stepped inside the quiet house, Cyrus immediately walked toward his private library. The adrenaline from the party and the glasses of wine I drank made my chest swell with unvoiced feelings.

"Cyrus, wait," I called out, following him through the heavy double doors.

The library was dimly lit, smelling of old leather and rich mahogany. Cyrus unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it onto an armchair. He finally turned around, looking tired, but his eyes were still alert and guarded.

"What is it, Celestine?" he asked, his voice low and exhausted.

"I just... I wanted to say thank you," I said, stepping closer to him, my heels sinking slightly into the thick velvet rug. "For what you did back there. With Victoria. You didn't have to go that far."

Cyrus let out a short, quiet breath. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid splashing against the crystal. He didn't look back at me as he spoke.

"Don't misinterpret my actions, Celestine," he said, his tone dropping back into that familiar, cold rhythm. He took a slow sip, his shoulders tense. "I only protected my name, not you. Victoria was making a scene that reflected poorly on the Valdemor Group. I simply shut her down."

The warmth that had been building in my chest instantly evaporated, replaced by a sharp sting of frustration. Of course. It was always about business. It was always about his precious reputation.

"Right. Silly me," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "I forgot. Everything is just a transaction to you. Heaven forbid you show a shred of genuine human decency."

"We have a contract," Cyrus reminded me, his dark eyes snapping to mine. "You signed it this morning. I suggest you remember your boundaries."

"I know exactly where the boundaries are!" I snapped, my voice rising. I stepped forward, confronting him. "But you're the one who crossed them at the party! You kissed my temple. You held me like... like you actually cared. How am I supposed to know what's real and what's a performance when you keep changing the rules?"

"It was all a performance, Celestine," he said, his voice flat, though his hand gripped the whiskey glass a little tighter. "That's what the public expects. Nothing more."

"You are unbelievable," I breathed, shaking my head. I couldn't stand to look at him for another second. The room suddenly felt way too small, the air too thick. "Goodnight, Cyrus."

I turned on my heel, intending to storm out of the library and lock myself in my bedroom. But the long, heavy train of my emerald dress caught under the heel of my shoe. My foot slipped on the slick edge of the velvet carpet.

"Ah—"

A gasp left my throat as I lost my balance, tilting backward.

Before I could hit the floor, a strong hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. Cyrus pulled me forward with a sudden, forceful jerk. But the momentum was too much. Instead of steadying me, he lost his footing too. We tumbled backward together, crashing onto the deep, leather sofa behind him.

I landed flat on his chest, my hands instinctively gripping his shirt to stabilize myself.

The silence that followed was loud. I could hear the rapid, heavy thudding of his heart right beneath my palms. My face was inches from his, our breath mingling in the dark space. The cool smell of his cologne and the warm scent of whiskey filled my senses.

Cyrus didn't move. His hands were still securely wrapped around my waist, his long fingers pressing through the thin silk of my dress.

I looked up, meeting his eyes. The cold indifference was entirely gone. In its place was something dark, raw, and completely unhinged. He was staring at my lips, his breathing coming in shallow, heavy hitches.

"Celestine," he whispered, his voice rough and laced with a strange, desperate tension.

"Cyrus..." My voice was barely a breath.

The control he held so tightly all day completely broke. Cyrus reached up, his hand tangling into the hair at the back of my neck, tilting my head back. He pulled me down, pressing his lips against mine in a sudden, fiercely passionate kiss.

A quiet gasp escaped my mouth, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss. It wasn't the polite, gentle kiss from the gala. This was hungry, reckless, and full of a dangerous desire that had been building behind closed doors. My mind went completely blank. Every rule, every clause in that contract dissolved into nothing. Instinct took over, and my fingers gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as I kissed him back.

He shifted his weight, rolling us over until he was hovering over me, his heavy frame pressing me into the soft leather cushions. The kiss grew more intense, his lips moving against mine with a fierce possessiveness that left me completely breathless. For a moment, it felt like the most real thing in the world.

Suddenly, Cyrus stiffened.

He abruptly pulled away, his breathing ragged as he stared down at me. His eyes were wide, filled with a sudden, sharp mixture of shock and immediate regret. He looked at me, then down at his hands on my waist, as if he had just realized what he was doing.

Without a word, he stood up quickly, stepping away from the couch and turning his back to me. His shoulders were shaking slightly as he tried to regain his composure.

"Get out," Cyrus said, his voice cold, hollow, and trembling with a strange kind of anger.

I sat up slowly, my lips tingling and my heart hammering wildly in my chest. I stared at his back, completely stunned by the sudden whiplash.

"Cyrus—"

"I said get out, Celestine," he cut me off, refusing to turn around. "Go to your room. This never happened."