*************** Celeste's POV***************
"Come in," his deep, commanding voice carried through the thick wooden door.
I hesitated only a moment before pushing it open, the file clutched firmly in my hands. Lucian Backwood's office was like him…sharp, intimidating, and impossible to ignore. The glass walls, the black marble desk, the way the light slanted just so, making him appear untouchable.
And then there was him.
Lucian looked up from the papers in front of him, eyes as dark as night, their gaze pinning me to the spot. He didn't smile, didn't even blink. Just watched me. Always watching.
"Your report," I murmured, stepping forward and placing the file on his desk. My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
He leaned back in his chair, not touching the folder. His gaze stayed fixed on me, studying me with unnerving precision. "You've been consistent. Every report you've submitted so far has been flawless. Almost too flawless."
My stomach knotted. He hadn't opened the file, yet he wasn't really talking about it. His words carried something else, suspicion, maybe curiosity.
"Thank you, sir." I kept my tone professional, though my pulse raced.
A faint curve touched his lips, but it wasn't a smile. It was more like intrigue laced with warning. "Where did you get that kind of experience, Miss Monroe?"
The air shifted instantly. He'd stepped off the script of normal business etiquette and into dangerous territory.
I stiffened. "Experience doesn't always come from the obvious places."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "You mean New York, don't you?"
The breath hitched in my throat before I could stop it. My fingers tightened around the strap of my file holder. "What makes you think I worked in New York?"
Lucian leaned back further, folding his arms. The movement was casual, but his gaze was anything but. "The way you structure financial breakdowns. The tone of your reports. Your ability to spot weaknesses in contracts most people would miss. It's not something picked up in a few months. That's years of practice. Ruthless practice. You've learned under someone who thrives in cutthroat environments. Who was it?"
My chest squeezed. He's getting too close.
For seven years, I'd kept my past buried. For seven years, I'd built walls no one could climb. Not once did I expect my boss, the one man I wanted nothing to do with…to start prying into the life I swore to forget.
I forced a small laugh, trying to mask the sudden thundering of my heart. "I didn't realize you were in the habit of prying into your secretary's personal life, Mr. Backwood. Isn't that… a little unprofessional?"
That flicker of something dark in his eyes deepened. "You think I'm being unprofessional because I want to know who trained you?"
"Yes." My voice came sharper this time. "You're my boss, not my interrogator."
A silence stretched between us. Heavy. Unyielding.
His gaze locked on mine, and I felt stripped bare under it. Like he could see every secret I'd worked so hard to keep hidden.
I shifted on my feet, every instinct screaming at me to run. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave…"
I turned toward the door, but the scrape of his chair echoed behind me. His footsteps followed.
"Why does the idea of me knowing about you scare you so much?" His voice was lower now, closer, coaxing and challenging at once.
I quickened my pace. "I'm not scared. I just think boundaries exist for a reason."
He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Boundaries are only for people who want to keep secrets."
My heart stopped. I froze, his words slamming into me like a fist. He couldn't know. He couldn't even guess.
I spun back to face him, anger flaring to cover my panic. "Not everyone who values privacy has something to hide."
Lucian didn't flinch. Instead, he took another step closer, then another. The air around him seemed to darken, thick with intensity.
"Mr Lucian," I started.
"Say it again." His voice was soft, dangerous.
I faltered. "What?"
"My name," he murmured, his gaze flicking briefly, dangerously, to my lips. "Not 'Mr. Lucian.' Lucian."
The way he said it made my pulse spike. I stumbled back, and he followed, each of his steps measured, deliberate. I retreated until my back hit the cold edge of his desk.
He stopped only when the space between us was nearly nonexistent, his height casting a shadow over me. His scent…clean, masculine, faintly smoky—wrapped around me, pulling me deeper into a storm I wanted no part of.
"Tell me," he whispered, eyes locked on mine. "What are you hiding, Celeste?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came. I had no defense left, no carefully crafted lie. Just panic.
So I did the only thing I could…I tried to sidestep him. But my heel caught the edge of the rug, and with a startled gasp, I lost my balance.
Strong hands caught me before I hit the ground. The sudden impact sent us both crashing back, and in the next breath, I was sprawled across him…his back against the floor, his arms caging me in.
The world tilted. My palms pressed against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my touch. His grip on my waist was firm, unyielding. And for a single, dizzying moment, our faces were so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek.
The air was thick and dangerous. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
Then…
The office door swung open.
I froze.
A beautiful young lady stood in the doorway, her designer heels clicking against the polished floor as she strode in. Her eyes widened at the scene before her, her gaze slicing over me like knives before locking on him.
Her lips parted in shock, then twisted into something venomous.
"You."
The word cracked through the air like a whip, and every bone in my body went cold.
"Oh my God."