LOGINCeleste Moreno is smart, capable, and trying to hold it together after getting betrayed by someone she trusted. To take her mind off things, she heads to a hotel bar with her best friend for a night of distraction. That’s where she meets a dark-eyed stranger. They connect instantly, one thing leads to another… and by morning, she’s gone. Three months later, Celeste is starting over. She applies for a secretary job using forged qualifications, hoping to stay under the radar. What she doesn’t expect? Her new boss is Lucian A. Moretti—the same guy from the hotel bar. The one-night stand she hasn’t stopped thinking about. Oh, and she’s pregnant. With his child. Which he doesn’t know. Lucian remembers her. A lot more than she realises. As they work together, their tension grows and feelings get complicated. Secrets build, people from their pasts get involved, and what started as one night starts turning into something much bigger. Now, Celeste has to figure out how long she can keep the truth hidden. And what happens when everything finally comes out?
View MoreCeleste’s POVThe office air felt thicker today. Whispers floated around like perfume, faint, but impossible to ignore.“She’s the new secretary?”“Yeah. Look at her… She’s pretty, no wonder they picked her.”“Pretty doesn’t pay bills. Wait till the boss starts yelling, she’ll run out crying.”“I heard she’s already been to his office twice this morning.”“No way.”“Mm-hm. Some people don’t waste time climbing.”I didn’t have to turn my head to know they were talking about me.The fake giggles, the sideways glances, they said enough.“Lucian Backwood doesn’t even look at women. She’s wasting her time if she thinks she’ll distract him.” Another voice whispered.“Well, look at that blouse. Very cheap, she won’t last.”Then they laughed. I just focused on my computer screen, pretending like I was typing and not hearing them.What they thought wasn't my problem, I came here to work, not make friends. But their words still stung.It was always in places like this … women would be smiling a
**Lucian’s POV**Faces don’t matter. That’s what I told myself as I leaned back in my chair, poring over the numbers on the quarterly report. But the face of the new secretary wouldn’t leave my head. Celeste Monroe. The way she had looked at me earlier that morning… Wide-eyed, uncertain, as though she recognised me or knew me. That line of her jaw, the slight tremor in her voice as she spoke. It felt familiar. But it doesn’t matter, I don’t concern myself with faces. Even if I’ve seen her before, who cares? Maybe she was at one of my mother’s lavish soirées. Maybe she’s a client’s daughter who visited some event. Just another transient form in the ceaseless blur of the world. I turned a page, forcing my eyes back to the profit margins, the projected expansion. Those were the only things that mattered. A soft knock, then two more sharp raps before the door swung open without my consent."Lucian."Leona of course. She glided into the room as if she owned it, her expensive perfume c
**Celeste**The office was silent, the glass walls gleamed, the AC hummed and I felt so closed in and stuffy I couldn’t think, I could barely breathe. Lucian Backwood. The man I had desperately tried to forget sat just a few feet away, totally in control, as if the past seven years hadn't happened. As if he hadn't left me to suffer. His dark eyes scanned me as I approached, his gaze raking me up and down like I was nothing but a file on his desk. No hint of recognition. It stung. I gripped my folder harder, my nails digging in, telling myself not to freak out. “Sit down,” he commanded, his voice clipped and arrogant, as if I were some mere servant. I sat on the chair opposite him, my heart thudding against my ribs like it wanted to fall out. “You’re here for the secretary position.” His voice was smooth and deep, but somehow cold, nothing like the warm voice I remembered from that night.“Yes, sir,” I managed to say, forcing the words from my tight throat. He leaned back in his
**Celeste POV**The California sun peeked through my beat-up blinds, splashing gold across my faded apartment walls. I woke up to the patter of little feet across the floor. My son Ethan giggled, a sound so pure it made me grin before I even opened my eyes.“Mama,” his voice came, bright and totally unaware of the weight on my chest.I turned on my side and watched my seven-year-old climb onto my bed, his hair all messed up. His T-shirt was crooked, his shorts wrinkled from sleep, but his eyes…those deep hazel eyes, sparkled with pure joy.“Morning, baby,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair.“Are we having pancakes today?” he asked, hopeful.I laughed softly, the sound a little rough. “Maybe tomorrow. Today’s important for Mama. Remember the interview?”He frowned. “Another one?”I swallowed hard, forcing cheer into my voice. “Yes. But this one’s different. I feel it.”What I didn’t say was that this was my last chance. Seven applications, seven polite rejections that ha






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