Chapter 4: The Heart's Betrayal

The kiss haunted Celeste long after Milan faded into memory.

It followed her across airports, lingered in the quiet of hotel suites, echoed in stolen glances during press conferences. Every time Arrow’s gaze brushed hers, she felt it again – heat, danger, an unraveling she couldn’t control.

The problem was simple. She was starting to want him. And want was the first step toward breaking Clause Five.

She had to be careful. Which was why she avoided him the entire flight back to Paris.

Arrow didn’t press. He sat across from her, reading, silent, but she could feel his eyes flick toward her every few minutes – checking, gauging, waiting.

By the time they reached their penthouse, her nerves were frayed.

Celeste strode into the bedroom and tore off her heels. “We can’t ever let that happen again.”

Arrow leaned against the doorway, loosening his tie. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” she insisted. “We have one rule, don’t fall in love.”

His gaze darkened. “You think I’m in danger of that?”

Her pulse jumped. “No. I’m reminding you.”

Of course he wouldn’t fall.

Arrow De La Vega was a man carved from self-control. A man who locked his emotions in vaults no one could access.

She, on the other hand… She is starting to fall. Too quick and reckless. So, she put walls back up – steel, fortified, chokingly tight.

Arrow watched her with unreadable eyes. “Celeste—”

“No. I need space,” she said. “Please.”

He nodded slowly. But something flickered across his face – hurt, maybe. Or pride. Or something she couldn’t identify.

He turned and left without another word.

She shouldn’t have cared.

But she did.

The days that followed were tense.

Cold mornings. Silent car rides. Awkward distance at events where they were forced to hold hands for the cameras.

The world saw a flawless couple. Privately, they were falling apart. And Celeste hated how much she missed him.

Arrow avoided unnecessary conversation, burying himself in work. Meetings. Calls. Numbers. Anything to keep his mind away from her.

She heard him come home late one night. Saw the light under his office door at 3 a.m. Found sketches of buildings scattered across the table – lines drawn harder than usual, like he was fighting something he couldn’t name.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one affected.

One morning, Celeste walked into the kitchen to find him already there. He wore a crisp suit, hair still damp from the shower, sleeves rolled neatly.

He looked… tired.

“Good morning,” he said.

Her heart tripped at the simplicity of it.

She kept her walls up. “Morning.”

He poured her a cup of coffee without asking – like he had learned how she liked it. She hated how domestic it felt. How dangerous.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Arrow nodded but didn’t push further. He was giving her space. He was trying.

Maybe that wounded her more than anything.

He set his cup down. “We have a meeting at ten. Charity partnership.”

“I know.”

“And a dinner with investors at seven.”

“I know.”

He hesitated. “Celeste, about Milan—”

“No,” she said quickly. “We can’t talk about that.”

He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “Fine.”

But the distance remained, heavy and suffocating.

Their marriage continued like this – cold on the surface, burning underneath. Until the gala. They were invited as guests of honor to the Louvre Foundation’s annual ball – an event dripping with wealth, elegance, and political maneuvering.

Celeste dressed in a crimson gown that hugged every curve, her hair swept into a regal twist. Arrow wore a tailored black tux that made him look like he’d stepped out of a painting.

When they entered, the crowd parted instinctively. Cameras snapped. Guests murmured.

Celeste felt his hand slip to the small of her back. Possessive. Protective. Perfectly timed for publicity.

But her heart didn’t understand the performance. It only understood the heat of his palm, the way his thumb brushed her spine.

“Don’t do that,” she whispered.

“We’re on display,” he murmured.

“You know what I mean.”

His jaw tightened. “Then stop looking at me like you want something you’re afraid to admit.”

Her breath caught.

He didn’t wait for her reply.

The night went smoothly until an older woman approached their table.

“Arrow,” she purred, placing a hand on his arm, “how wonderful to see you again.”

Celeste stiffened.

Arrow’s expression cooled. “Mother.”

Celeste blinked. Arrow’s mother? The one who interfered constantly?

“My dear daughter-in-law,” the woman said with a smile too polished to be sincere, “you look stunning.”

“Thank you,” Celeste replied cautiously.

Arrow’s mother’s gaze sharpened. “I do hope you’re… bonding.”

“We’re managing,” Celeste answered.

The woman leaned in. “Remember, dear. Love isn’t required in these arrangements. Only loyalty.”

Celeste’s stomach knotted. “I understand.”

Arrow’s mother smiled. “Good. Love complicates everything. It ruins alliances. Don’t let it ruin yours.”

Arrow stiffened beside Celeste.

His mother’s words were intentional. A warning. A threat. A reminder. Clause Five wasn’t an accident – it was a weapon.

“Excuse us,” Arrow said sharply, placing a hand on Celeste’s waist and guiding her away.

When they were far from prying ears, Celeste spoke first. “She hates me.”

“She hates everyone,” he muttered. “Especially anyone who threatens her control.”

Celeste swallowed. “I don’t… threaten your control, do I?”

His gaze snapped to hers. “You threaten everything.”

 Her breath stilled. “Arrow—”

“Do you think I wanted to kiss you?” he hissed quietly. “Do you think I wanted to feel anything?”

Her chest tightened painfully. “You regret it.”

He stepped closer – too close. “I regret wanting something I can’t have.”

Celeste’s voice quivered. “Why not?”

“Because,” he said, eyes burning into her, “I can’t afford to lose.”

Clause Five.

If he fell in love, she would gain everything – and he would lose everything.

Celeste’s heart twisted.

“Arrow…” She reached for him, then stopped, afraid.

He saw the hesitation. It shattered something inside him.

He took her hand anyway. She gasped.

“Come with me,” he said.

He led her to a hidden alcove behind a marble pillar. Music drifted through the hall, soft and haunting.

Arrow pulled her closer. “Dance with me.”

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered. “People will see.”

“Let them.”

His hand rested on her waist. She placed hers on his shoulder. Slowly, they moved – gentle sway, soft steps, silent confessions layered between breaths.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered.

“So are you.”

“You’re going to ruin me.”

“You’re already ruining me.”

Their foreheads touched and felt that her heart betrayed her.

It fell. Just a little. Just enough to terrify her.

She pulled away abruptly. “I can’t do this.”

“Celeste—”

“No.” She shook her head violently. “We’re playing with fire.”

He reached for her. “Don’t run from this.”

“I have to,” she whispered, stepping back.

If she stayed, she would fall. And falling meant losing everything – power, independence, pride.

He watched her go, hidden pain flickering in his eyes.

She didn’t look back.

That night, alone in their penthouse, Celeste stood at the window, palms pressed to the glass, trying to breathe.

Her heart felt like it was splitting between desire and survival.

Behind her, the bedroom door opened quietly.

Arrow.

“You left me,” he said softly.

She didn’t turn. “You can’t expect me to—”

“You left me,” he repeated, voice breaking in a way she had never heard.

She turned slowly. And her world stopped.

Arrow was standing there – raw, vulnerable, stripped of control.

“I don’t know what this is,” he said, voice trembling, “but it’s destroying me.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Arrow,” she whispered, “if we aren’t careful… one of us is going to fall.”

His eyes softened. “Then tell me—”

He stepped closer.

“Are you falling for me, Celeste?”

Her breath caught. Her heart jumped. Her resolve buckled.

But she managed one word.

“No.”

It was a lie.

One that might save them. Or destroy them both.