August lay on his back, eyes open, watching her.
Celine was fast asleep beside him, curled slightly into his side like she belonged there. Her breathing was soft, steady, until it wasn't.
Her nose scrunched.
Then she shifted, mumbling something under her breath.
"…no… not that cut… the neckline…"
August blinked, then let out a quiet chuckle.
Even in her sleep, she was working.
Her hand came up, lazily scratching her nose before falling back against his chest, her fingers brushing against his skin.
He shook his head slightly, amused, before slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.
She came easily.
Like she trusted him, even without knowing it.
Her hair spread across his chest, soft and warm, carrying a faint scent he was already beginning to associate with comfort.
August exhaled slowly, his hand moving absentmindedly through her hair.
It had been a long time since he felt this way.
Peaceful.
After the divorce, everything had shifted.
Life became routine.
Wake up. Take care of Liam. Work. Repeat.
There was no space for anything else.
No room for distractions.
No room for… this.
He remembered the nights Liam would cry, too young to understand why his mother wasn't there. August had learned quickly, how to be both parents, how to soothe, how to stay strong even when he was exhausted.
Love, for him, had turned into responsibility.
Nothing like this.
This… was different.
Unplanned.
Messy.
Real.
Celine stirred slightly, her brows furrowing again as she pressed closer into him, like she was chasing warmth even in her dreams.
"…add texture…" she mumbled faintly.
August smiled to himself, his fingers brushing gently over her arm.
"Workaholic," he whispered under his breath.
But there was no irritation in it.
Only something softer.
Something he hadn't let himself feel in a long time.
He adjusted the blanket over her, making sure she was covered, his hand lingering just a second longer than necessary.
For the first time in a while, August didn't feel like he was just getting through life.
He felt… still.
And somehow,
That scared him a little.
Celine shifted again, a soft sound slipping from her lips as she stirred awake.
Her lashes fluttered.
Then slowly, her eyes opened.
For a second, she didn't move, just blinked, disoriented.
Then she realized.
Her head was on his chest.
Her arm draped across him.
His arm wrapped around her.
And… he was awake.
Watching her.
Her eyes widened slightly before she quickly looked away, a flush creeping up her cheeks.
"Good morning," she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.
August's chest rose with a quiet chuckle beneath her.
"Morning," he replied, his voice low, rough from sleep.
She made a small attempt to move, like she suddenly remembered how close they were, but his arm tightened just slightly around her waist, stopping her.
"Where do you think you're going?" he teased.
Celine huffed softly, still avoiding his gaze. "Nowhere… I just—"
"Hmm?"
She bit her lip, clearly flustered. "You're awake."
"I can see that," he said, amused.
Her cheeks flushed deeper.
August shifted slightly, his hand coming up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face. "You talk in your sleep, by the way."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "I do not."
"You do," he said, smiling. "Something about necklines and texture."
Celine groaned softly, dropping her forehead back against his chest. "Oh my God…"
He laughed quietly, the sound warm and unguarded.
"That bad?"
"Don't ever tell anyone," she muttered into him.
"No promises."
She lightly smacked his chest, finally lifting her head to look at him, only to realize just how close they were.
Her breath caught.
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again, a teasing glint there.
"Still sleepy?" he asked softly.
Celine shook her head slightly, though her voice came out softer than she intended. "No."
"Good," he murmured.
His hand slid to her waist, pulling her just a little closer again.
Her breath hitched.
"August…" she started, but there was no real protest in it.
"Hmm?"
"You're distracting me."
He smiled. "That's the point."
Celine rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips betrayed her. "Of course it is."
August's thumb traced slow circles against her waist, like he had nowhere else to be. "You're not complaining."
"I am," she said quickly.
"You're really bad at it."
She narrowed her eyes at him, but the effect was ruined by the faint blush still on her cheeks.
"Let me get up," she muttered, trying again to move.
August didn't budge.
Instead, he shifted, rolling slightly so she was pressed more securely against him, one leg of his trapping hers lightly.
"August," she warned, though there was no real heat behind it.
"Hmm?" he replied, completely unbothered.
"I have things to do."
"So do I."
"Then let me go."
"In a minute."
Celine stared at him, incredulous. "You're impossible."
He grinned. "And you're still here."
She opened her mouth to argue, then paused.
Because… he wasn't wrong.
Her gaze flickering over his face.
Something softened.
Before she could stop herself, it slipped out, quiet, unguarded.
"Good morning… babe."
The room stilled.
August froze.
Completely.
His eyes snapped to hers, something darker, deeper flashing in them.
"Say that again," he said, voice low.
Celine blinked, suddenly aware of what she'd said. Her cheeks flushed instantly. "I—"
"Say it again," he repeated, more intense this time, his hand tightening slightly on her waist.
Her heart started racing.
She swallowed.
"…Good morning, babe," she said softly.
A beat.
Then August exhaled, like something in him snapped into place.
His hand slid up, cupping her jaw as he pulled her closer,
And kissed her.
Hard.
Deep.
Not teasing this time.
Possessive.
Like that one word had undone him.
Celine gasped softly against his lips, her fingers gripping his shirt as she kissed him back, just as lost.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breath uneven.
"Yeah," he murmured.
"I like that."
***
Nolan POV:
The continuous knocking dragged Nolan out of sleep.
He groaned, rolling slightly before cracking an eye open, irritation already settling in.
Beside him, the woman from the night before shifted, her red hair spilling across the pillow as she buried her face deeper into it.
"Babe… check who it is, would you…" she murmured, voice thick with sleep.
Nolan sighed, annoyed. "Get dressed before I come back, woman."
She frowned, clearly displeased at being ordered around, but said nothing, just scoffed softly, pulling the sheets tighter around herself.
Nolan swung his legs off the bed, grabbing his trousers from the floor. He slid into them roughly, barely bothering with the rest as the knocking continued.
"Expecting someone?" the red-haired woman asked, her tone lazy, curious. She propped herself up on one arm, the other clutching the blanket to her chest, her eyes roaming over him with interest.
Nolan ignored her.
He stepped out of the room and headed downstairs, his expression hardening with each knock.
Reaching the window, he pulled the curtain slightly,
And froze.
Two police officers stood outside.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair quickly, forcing his face into something more composed.
No panic.
Never panic.
He adjusted himself, then walked to the door and pulled it open.
The officer looked at him briefly before speaking.
"Mr. Smith?"
Nolan gave a small, controlled nod.
"Yes. That's me, officer."
"Can I ask you a few questions, Mr. Nolan?" the officer said.
Nolan leaned against the doorframe, expression calm, almost bored.
"It depends."
"It won't take long."
A pause.
Then Nolan stepped aside. "Make it quick."
The officers stepped in, one observing quietly while the other flipped open a small notebook.
"We're investigating a vandalism case," he began. "A restaurant was damaged a few days ago."
Nolan walked past them, grabbing a glass, pouring himself a drink like this was all an inconvenience.
"And?" he said, taking a sip.
The officer didn't blink.
"CCTV footage shows you leaving the restaurant minutes before the vandalism occurred."
Nolan paused mid-sip.
Then lowered the glass slowly.
A smirk crept onto his lips.
"Probably luck, officer."
The officer scribbled something down.
"We also have statements saying you caused a disturbance inside. Something about… spaghetti?"
Nolan scoffed lightly, shaking his head.
"I'm paying," he said, voice edged with arrogance. "I have rights."
The officer continued writing, unfazed.
"Do you know a woman named Celine Monroe?"
Nolan didn't hesitate.
"Yeah," he said casually. "My ex-wife."
The officer's pen paused briefly, then continued.
"Has there been any disagreement between you two?"
Nolan leaned back against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other, completely relaxed.
"Not one I can remember."
A beat.
"Although…" he added, a grin spreading across his face, "she does keep wanting us to get back together."
The officer looked up.
Nolan shrugged.
"Can't blame her," he said with a cocky smirk. "Who wouldn't?"
He took another sip, then added, almost lazily,
"I mean… I am a hot piece of ass."
Silence.
The officer didn't react.
Just wrote.
But his partner shifted slightly, clearly unimpressed.
The first officer closed his notebook slowly.
"We may need you to come down to the station for further questioning."
Nolan gave a small nod, like it didn't matter either way.
"Anytime, officer."
The officers exchanged a glance before turning to leave.
Nolan slammed the door behind him, the echo bouncing off the walls. His hand shook as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Victor Hales," he muttered, dialing quickly.
"Ha! I told you this would happen, didn't I?" Victor's laugh crackled through the line. Of course he knew the police would visit his so called partner. This was his city, nothing gets past him.
Nolan ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "If I get busted, you're coming with me," he said, voice low, dangerous.
"Relax, I got you, my lawyer is coming to you." Victor replied, still chuckling.
Nolan ended the call, tossing his glass of whiskey across the room. It shattered against the floor, shards scattering like his temper.
"Fuck," he hissed, kicking the chair in front of him. It toppled with a loud crash, rattling the floorboards.
All of this could have been avoided if Celine had just signed those damn property transfer documents. He had only married her for that.
Why was she so stubborn? So… hot-headed?
From the staircase, the red-haired woman already watched, composed, waiting for the perfect moment to slip away.
Nolan's eyes darkened, lips curling into a twisted grin. "Looks like I have to hit you hard, Celine," he muttered, voice low, almost to himself.
One scandal wasn't enough, was it?
He slumped to the floor, dejected at first, then sat upright, mind sharpening like a blade. His green eyes gleamed with a dangerous spark.
"I'll use what you cherish most," he whispered, voice venomous. "And I'll destroy you with it."
The room felt colder somehow, as if the air itself recognized the madness in him.
Nolan laughed softly, a sound that promised chaos, his mind already spinning schemes that would make anyone else freeze.