I frown in frustration as Mom declines my call for the third time in a row. She’s never late for anything, and I’m growing increasingly concerned.
“Celeste?”
I look up from my phone to find a vaguely familiar-looking man walking up to me, his expression a mixture of sheepish and apologetic.
“I’m really sorry about this, but I believe our mothers set both of us up.”
I stare at him for a moment, my eyes roaming over his dark blonde hair and his perfect bone structure. I’m certain I know him, but I can’t quite place him.
“We met when we were much younger, and we briefly spoke at the annual Windsor charity gala recently?” He cups the back of his neck awkwardly, his face tinged pink.
“Oh!” I gasp, embarrassment washing over me. “Clifton Emerson, right?” I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him straight away. The Emersons are hoteliers too — they’re not quite as big as we are, but they’re a force to be reckoned with. Clifton, however, isn’t someone I’ve seen around. As far as I’m aware, he chose not to join his father’s business.
“I’m so glad you remember me,” he says, throwing me a sweet smile. “I feel awkward enough as it is.”
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it to find a text from my mother. My eyes narrow as I read it.
MOM
You promised me a date for my birthday, but I never said it’d be with me. Have fun! He’s a great guy.
I hold my phone up for Clifton to see, and he chuckles knowingly. “Told you,” he murmurs, before showing me a similar message his own mother sent him.
“I can’t believe they duped us like that. I should’ve known when she reminded me of today’s brunch more often than necessary,” I mutter, annoyed.
Clifton runs a hand through his hair, and just like that, I’m involuntarily reminded of Zane. My cheeks heat at the memory of his touch, and the way his hair felt against my fingers as I deepened the kiss I claimed I hated. I could’ve been with him now, if not for Mom. What would she say if I told her that? Grandpa might hate the Windsors, but I don’t think my parents do.
I shake my head when I realize I’m getting ahead of myself. This thing between Zane and I… we don’t even know what it is yet, and I’m not convinced he isn’t just trying to get me out of his system. Perhaps what we’re feeling is the lingering effect of a years-long rivalry, something that’ll fade away over time, something that’s best kept secret lest we complicate things more than we already have.
“I’ll definitely be having words with my mother,” Clifton tells me. “However, now that we’ve both found ourselves here, we might as well have lunch. This restaurant is incredibly hard to book, after all.” He grins at me, looking far more relaxed now. “If nothing else, I’d love to get some pointers from you about working with family.”
I raise a brow and throw him a questioning look. “You’re joining Emerson Real Estate?” This is news to me. Emerson does well, but Greg, Clifton’s father, is stuck in his ways and refuses to adapt to the change the industry is undergoing. I don’t know Clifton all that well, but I heard he’s been advocating for change in his father’s firm. If he joined, it must be because his father finally gave in.
Clifton nods, his gaze conflicted. “I am, which is why I’d be grateful if you’d have lunch with me. I’m worried I’m making the wrong choice, and since you’re kind of in my shoes, I figured… well… I just thought it might be nice for both of us to have someone to talk to who actually gets it.”
I’d planned to leave once I figured out what my mother was up to, but how do I turn down such an earnest request? If he truly is joining his father’s business, I won’t just be seeing him around. I’ll be competing with him. Whether I like it or not, I’ll have to try my best to stay on good terms with him.
“I’m not sure I’ll be of much help to you, since that specific aspect of the job is something I’m still actively figuring out too, but it wouldn’t hurt to discuss it. Who knows, perhaps we might figure out the solution to our stubborn predecessors together.”
Clifton smiles at me as he leads me into the restaurant, his expression conveying that he too has little faith in our ability to understand my grandfather and his father, and I can’t help but smile back at him conspiratorially.
“I heard the fish is amazing here,” he tells me as our server leads us to the table, and I nod, having heard the same rumors.
“I wonder how long ago our moms set this up, because as far as I’m aware, this restaurant is always fully booked for at least five weeks ahead of time.”
His expression sours as we sit down, and I can’t help but giggle in solidarity. “I can’t believe they did this at all. Perhaps it isn’t my father and your grandfather that we need to manage — it’s our moms.”
I begin to reply, only for my smile to melt away as a familiar deep voice cuts through the noise. My stomach drops as my gaze settles on a couple three tables away. I’d recognize him anywhere.
My entire body freezes as I watch Zane smile adoringly at a well-known model, and it hits me then — how foolish I’ve been. He warned me he was playing a game with me when we danced at the gala, told me it’s one I wasn’t aware of.
She says something, and he laughs in a way I’ve never seen him laugh before — carefree, his entire attention on her, like he’s hanging on to her every word. Jealousy grips me hard and fast, tightening my stomach until my entire body is on edge. It hurts more than I thought it would, more than it should.
She’s so beautiful, pure sophistication dripping off her, and they look perfect together. I can’t tear my eyes off them as my mind replays every word he told me. I think that’s what hurts the most — the fact I truly had started to believe him.
“Celeste? Is everything okay?” Clifton asks, following my line of vision.
I nod and force myself to glance at the menu despite the words barely registering. Does she know he kissed me less than two weeks ago, that he’s been texting me constantly? What would she do if I walked up to them and told her exactly what kind of person her date is? For a moment, I genuinely consider it, only to realize that it’ll just make me look even more pathetic than I already am.
“Celeste?” Clifton says, and I glance at him to find him placing his order, concern flickering through his gaze.
I tense, feeling entirely out of it. “Could I please have whatever he is having?” I ask, tipping my head toward Clifton. I haven’t been able to interpret a single word I read, and the way Clifton looks at me tells me he caught on.
“I heard that the Windsors and Harrisons don’t like each other, but I thought the rumors were exaggerated,” he says as our server walks away. “I’ve never seen such a visceral reaction in real life. The moment you saw him, your entire mood just turned. I can hardly blame you. They’re just… everywhere, aren’t they? It’s impossible to compete with them.”
I force a smile and take a calming breath, unwilling to let Zane upset me. I won’t let him affect me like that, not anymore. “You get used to it,” I tell Clifton honestly. “More often than not, the Windsors focus on projects that aren’t in my budget anyway, so they don’t affect me as much as I thought they would.”
I don’t mention the Bellevue. That was one project I wanted desperately, and now I can’t help but wonder if Zane had somehow known that, if that’s why he acquired it. He seemed sincere about Chateau Chiara, but what about the Bellevue? When he told me I didn’t know which game we were playing, I thought he’d been joking, only to find myself scrambling to figure out the rules.
I glance back at Zane, only to find him already staring at me, his expression hard. His eyes move from me to Clifton, and then he looks away, dismissing me like I’m nothing.
I try my hardest to push down the pain. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does — I spent years letting him hurt me, and I promised myself I’d never let him do this to me again, so how did I find myself here?
“Excuse me,” I murmur as I rise from my seat, needing a moment to collect myself.
I never should’ve let him kiss me, never should’ve fallen for it when he told me he just wanted a chance to show me who he’s become. No one knows him like I do — I should’ve trusted the behavior he’s shown me all our lives over his pretty lies. When it comes to him, I’m still the same naive girl I used to be, and I’m tired of hating who I become around him. I hate the insecurity, the doubts, the way he makes me feel so vulnerable.
“Celeste.” A hand wraps around my wrist moments before I’m pulled against a strong chest, and I gasp in shock as Zane presses me up against the wall opposite the restrooms, his eyes flashing with anger so fierce it rivals my own.
