Chapter 3: Tense Collaboration

Celeste’s POV

The thing about working with Julian Sterling was that it was like trying to navigate a minefield blindfolded, barefoot, and with him holding the detonator.

It was only day two of working on-site at Sterling Enterprise, and I was already reconsidering my entire life’s career choices. The meeting room was sleek and all white, the kind of modern minimalism that screamed money, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking downtown San Diego. From up here, you could see the ocean glimmering in the distance. Beautiful view. Terrible company.

I set my laptop down, opened my notes, and told myself to breathe. Today was our first full run-through for the Sterling Enterprise Anniversary Gala. It was supposed to be a straightforward collaboration between me, the hired event planner with years of experience; him, the CEO who should’ve just signed the contract and left me to do my job. Instead, I had him sitting across from me, in a tailored navy suit that probably cost more than my rent for a year, arms crossed like he was already unimpressed.

"We’re running behind schedule," Julian said, glancing at his watch in that condescending way that made my skin prickle. "We were supposed to start this review thirty minutes ago."

"Well, when the person signing the checks keeps calling last-minute changes to the menu, the floral arrangements, and the guest list, things get delayed," I shot back, keeping my tone polite but my smile sharp. "Unless you want to serve champagne and hors d'oeuvres to a room with no flowers and missing half the guest RSVPs."

His eyes flicked up from his watch, cold and steady. "Are you implying I’m slowing the process down?"

I leaned forward just slightly, enough for him to see I wasn’t intimidated. "I’m not implying anything, Mr. Sterling. I’m saying it."

For a second just a second his lips curved in the faintest hint of a smirk before he schooled his face back to that unreadable CEO mask.

This was going to be a very long day.

The team filtered in, each of them shooting me those curious, half-sympathetic glances like they knew exactly how hard it was to work under their boss. We began the presentation, going over the timeline: stage setup, lighting cues, speeches, music, seating chart, menu flow. I spoke with my usual confidence, clicking through the slides.

"Pause." His voice cut in, low and commanding, just as I was about to move to the next part. "The seating arrangement here, why is Bennett Group seated so far from Harrington & Co.?"

"Because the CEOs of those companies can’t stand each other," I said without missing a beat. "Last time they were seated together, it almost turned into a shouting match over merger deals. I’m avoiding a repeat performance."

Julian studied me like I was a chess piece he wasn’t sure how to play. "And yet, seating them apart sends a public message that Sterling Enterprise is choosing sides."

"It sends a message that Sterling Enterprise is competent enough to keep a party from turning into a corporate brawl," I countered.

The tension was thick enough to cut with the silver letter opener on the conference table. I could feel everyone else’s eyes bouncing between us like a tennis match.

We went back and forth for nearly twenty minutes with him questioning every detail, me defending every decision. It wasn’t that he was wrong about everything; it was that he clearly hated not being the one in total control. And I hated feeling like I was being tested for sport.

At one point, I caught him watching me, not my slides, and it sent an irritating heat up my neck. Was he evaluating me like a problem to be solved? Or something else entirely? I didn’t want to know.

By the time the meeting wrapped, my patience was hanging by a single, fraying thread. He stood as everyone left, but when I started packing my things, his voice stopped me.

"Stay for a moment, Ms. Marshall."

I bit back a sigh. "Of course."

When the door shut behind the last person, it felt like all the oxygen left the room.

"You’re good at what you do," Julian said finally, hands in his pockets, gaze steady. "But you push too hard."

I blinked, not sure whether to thank him or slap him. "I push because it’s my job to make sure your event doesn’t crash and burn."

"And I expect excellence," he replied. "But excellence doesn’t mean ignoring my vision."

I tilted my head, matching his calm. "Your vision doesn’t work without the execution, Mr. Sterling. And that’s my department."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Just the sound of the city humming far below. There was something in his eyes sharp, but also curious, almost… searching. I hated that it made my stomach twist.

"Dismissed," he said at last, turning toward the window.

I walked out before I could say something I’d regret. Or before he could see the small, infuriating smile threatening to pull at my lips.

Julian’s POV

Celeste Marshall was infuriating.

I wasn’t used to people pushing back against me. Not in boardrooms, not in negotiations, not in any capacity. And yet here she was standing her ground as if my authority was just another obstacle she could maneuver around.

Most people folded under pressure; she seemed to sharpen. It was… irritating. Distracting. Dangerous.

From my office, I could still see her leaving the conference room, her stride confident, chin tilted up in defiance. She wasn’t like the other event planners we’d hired over the years: no desperate flattery, no fake smiles. She worked like she had nothing to prove, yet somehow still made me feel like I was the one on trial.

I’d told her she pushed too hard, but the truth was, I didn’t mind it as much as I should. The last person who’d challenged me like that had betrayed me, and I’d sworn never to let someone that close again. But Celeste wasn’t close; she was just here to do a job. A temporary arrangement. I could keep her at arm’s length.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

Still, I couldn’t ignore the fact that she was right about the Bennett-Harrington seating issue. It would have been a PR disaster to put them together. I’d never admit it to her face, but her foresight might have saved us a week of damage control.

I found myself watching her more closely than I should during the day, tracking the way she moved through the office precise, efficient, and guarded a touch. She was polite with my staff, but not overly friendly. She kept her personal life entirely out of conversation, which should have made her forgettable. Somehow, it had the opposite effect.

The problem was, we had to keep working closely. Too closely. The anniversary gala wasn’t just another event; it was my company’s chance to strengthen key partnerships and silence the board’s whispers about me being “too detached.” It had to be perfect. And Celeste… She was the best chance I had at perfect.

But she was also the kind of woman who could unravel my control if I let her. And I couldn’t afford that.

When she returned later that afternoon with updated layout plans, she placed them on my desk without a word. Our fingers brushed as I took the folder from her, and it was so brief, so inconsequential, yet my mind snagged on it like a hook.

"This is the revised design you wanted," she said, professional and cool.

I flipped through it, keeping my expression neutral. "Better."

She raised an eyebrow. "Was that… a compliment?"

"Don’t get used to it."

Her lips quirked, like she knew exactly what I was doing pretending this was nothing but work. Pretending the air between us wasn’t charged with something unspoken.

"See you at the next run-through, Mr. Sterling," she said, and walked away.

I told myself I wasn’t watching her leave.

 I was lying.