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CHAPTER 42 : THE GAME OF SHADOWS

Author: Déesse
last update publish date: 2026-03-09 00:09:16

Célia

A week has passed since I signed. A week of playing a role, of smiling behind a mask of docility. Lysander installed me in a discreetly luxurious apartment, with guards posing as neighbors. To protect my interests, he says. To monitor my every breath, I think.

Tonight, he summoned me to the glass pavilion. A meeting, he specified. Important.

Lysander stands near the floor-to-ceiling window, an elegant and cold silhouette. He turns as I enter, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"Célia. Regard
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    Kassian LéonThe plane takes off. The roar of the engines, the push against the back, then near silence. The city lights recede, become a carpet of fireflies, then disappear beneath the clouds. She looks out the window, fascinated, her breath forming a slight mist on the glass.— It's beautiful, she says.— Yes.But I'm not looking at the scenery. I'm looking at her. The soft light on her face, the sparkle in her eyes, the smile on her lips. I look at her hands, slender, elegant, resting on her knees. I look at her feet, bare in her heels, her delicate ankles. I look at everything. I want to engrave everything.She turns to me.— What?— Nothing.— You're staring.— Yes.— Why?— Because I can. Because I want to. Because I love it. Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.She holds my gaze, a challenge in her eyes.

  • Spicy Hot    CHAPTER 89 : THE EVIDENCE 6

    Kassian LéonThe day is endless.Every minute that passes is a minute too many, a minute stolen from her, a minute lost in this uninteresting world where I have to sign documents, listen to reports, answer questions without even knowing what I'm saying. My mind is elsewhere. My mind is with her. In her arms. In her breath. In that night when everything shifted.Maxime looks at me strangely during the board meeting. I feel his gaze on me, insistent, questioning.— Are you sick? he murmurs.— No.— You look like death.— Thank you.— And you're smiling to yourself.I don't answer. I can't explain. I can't say that I'm elsewhere, that I'm with her, that I'm reliving every second of last night, every word, every gesture, every breath, every caress. I can't say that her name runs through my head like a prayer, that her scent lingers in my clothes, that her fingers left marks

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    Kassian LéonShe pulls back a little, looks at me.— You think I don't know who you are?— You know what I've shown you.— I know what you are. I know how you protected me. I know how you keep your promises. I know how you are with the staff, with the horses, with this house. I know how you let me in. I know what that cost you.— You don't know everything.— Then tell me.I look away. The fire crackles. The wood burns.— I'm not good at this, I say.— At what?— At being loved.She puts her hand on my cheek, forces my gaze.— Learn.— What if I can't?— I'll teach you.— What if I disappoint you?— I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm asking you to be here.— I'm here.— Then that's all that matters.I look at her. This woman. This woman who

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    CéliaHe advances slowly toward the center of the room. His gaze sweeps over the barely touched tray, then returns to settle on me."You broke our agreement. There are consequences.""Our agreement?"The laugh that escapes me is brief and bitter."You mean that deal made under threat? That choice b

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  • Spicy Hot    CHAPTER 45 : THE AWAKENING 1

    CeliaDawn is a lie behind the tinted windows. A gray glow without warmth, promising nothing. I surface from sleep the way one drowns in reverse, struggling upward toward a surface made of awareness and pain. The weight of yesterday falls over me before I even open my eyes. The unfamiliar room. The

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    CéliaThe day passed in the library, a mausoleum of rare books and icy portraits. His voice, precise and relentless, unspooled the history of the Volkovs like a chain designed to ensnare me. I only half-listened. I observed. The emphasis he placed on loyalty, conquest,

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    CéliaThe thought strikes me, insidious. I had sensed it, even in his monstrosity. This obsessive surveillance, this need to control everything, to possess everything... this isn't the act of a man acquiring a mere object. It's the restrained fury of someone who has waited. Who has maneuvered.He e

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