Chapter 29
Celeste slipped out of Sebastian's office, heels clicking softly against the marble. The moment the door shut behind her, she lifted the phone and pressed it to her ear, forcing her voice into its usual sugary lilt.
"Hello?"
Larry's voice shot back immediately, sharp and tense. "Why haven't you been picking my calls?"
Her brow twitched. Of course it had to be him. She forced a laugh, light and dismissive, as she smoothed her hair with her free hand. "Relax, baby. I just saw it now."
"Don't lie to me." His tone carried something unfamiliar hardness, suspicion. Amara's words were already lodged in his mind like barbed wire, gnawing at him. "Where are you right now?"
Celeste rolled her eyes, staring at her reflection in the glossy elevator doors across the hall. She softened her voice again, dripping with offended innocence. "Where do you think? I'm at work. Where else would I be?"
Larry didn't answer right away, and the silence unsettled her. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, heavier. "Come over. Now."
She straightened, caught off guard by the command in his tone. "Larry, I can't. I'm in the middle of something important, and.."
"I said come over."
The words cut like a knife, final, not to be argued with. Then the line went dead.
Celeste pulled the phone back from her ear, staring at the screen in disbelief. A hot flare of anger rose in her chest how dare he hang up on her? Her lips twisted as she flung her hand outward, like she was tossing the frustration into the air. Then, in the next breath, she inhaled deeply, fixing her hair and straightening her dress.
By the time she turned back toward Sebastian's office, the tantrum was gone, tucked neatly under a polished smile. Her mask was back in place. If she wanted to keep her secrets buried, Sebastian could never suspect a thing.
She walked briskly, rehearsing her sweet tone in her head. All she needed was her purse—and then she would decide whether Larry was worth
humoring or silencing.
---
Sebastian leaned back in his chair the moment Celeste disappeared through the door, a long breath slipping past his lips.
Finally,silence.
Whoever had called her, he was almost grateful to them. It gave him the only thing he'd wanted since
she'd barged in: a little space. His expression, however, betrayed none of it. Cool, composed, his features stayed unreadable, even as his temples pulsed from the irritation he was suppressing.
The reprieve didn't last.
Celeste swept back in, her heels clipping the marble floor, a frown etched into her delicate face. She carried the residue of that phone call like a veil, though she made sure to redirect it toward him. Sebastian's jaw flexed.
Was she still upset with him? He didn't have the stamina for another round of theatrics.
"I don't like when you hurt my feelings," she said, her voice stiff, folded arms pressing against her chest.
Sebastian resisted the urge to close his eyes. Instead, he sat forward, voice smoother than he felt. "Celeste… I'll make it up to you. Dinner. Shopping. Tell me what you want. I don't disregard you."
The words felt like grit between his teeth, but he pushed them out anyway. Guilt still lingered from last night, when he had used her in a moment of weakness.
Her pout trembled into a flicker of delight. The offers were tempting, but Larry's voice still rang in her ears, sharp and commanding. The thought of keeping him waiting made her uneasy. She had no choice she had to leave.
"Another time," she muttered, clutching her purse as though it were a shield. She feigned annoyance as she moved for the door.
Sebastian shook his head, then rose with a quiet sigh. "At least let me walk you out." He reached for her purse, tugging it gently from her hand before she could object.
"Sebby…" she said softly, caught between resistance and the thrill that his insistence gave her. To her, it felt like conquest, like proof that he was slowly caving. She couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips.
Sebastian only opened the office door and held it for her. His eyes lingered on her face, but there was no warmth in them, no surrender. Just a flat endurance.
For Celeste, the gaze read differently: triumphant, almost romantic. Mission accomplished, her smirk seemed to say.
For Sebastian, it was the opposite: Let this be over.
She stepped out first, chin tilted with satisfaction. He followed, shutting the door behind them, already calculating how long he could keep up this charade before his patience ran dry.
---
Kairen's office was a battlefield of paper. Files stacked like crooked towers leaned toward him, post-its clung to the edges of folders, and the blue glow of his laptop stung his already weary eyes. He had been typing, jotting
cross-checking, proofing, recording running himself ragged. Every knock, every voice that had shoved more work onto his desk earlier replayed in his head like echoes: For Mr. Cross, please proofread. For the senior staff in raw materials. Tell Mr. Cross our section needs a new supervisor.
He muttered curses under his breath, his fingers stiff as he tapped the keyboard. "I'm not an AI," he hissed at the screen, the words tumbling out like a defense against madness. "This isn't work it's hell dressed in paperwork."
He reached for his pen, only to realize his hand was trembling. His eyes wandered to the clock on the wall. The slim second hand seemed to mock him as it ticked steadily past closing hours. Shit… He exhaled sharply. Not once since he started this job had he left before nightfall.
He began shoving papers into a neat pile, saving half-finished documents to email later from home. His head dropped for a moment, heavy with exhaustion. All he wanted was to sink into the corner of his bed and forget this place existed.
As he packed, he paused, fingers brushing the edge of his janitor uniform. The dull fabric clung to his skin, stiff from the long day. He debated pulling it off before leaving. What's the point? he thought bitterly. Everyone's seen me in it already. Everyone's laughed. What's the worst that could happen one more person staring? He scoffed, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and zipped his bag shut.
That was when the knock came.
It was soft at first too soft for the kind of company-hallway knocks he'd been bombarded with all day. Then it came again, firmer, deliberate.
Kairen froze, one hand still on his bag strap. His body tensed as though the sound had pierced straight through him. His mind began racing. At this hour, who could it be? Another staff with more paperwork? Sebastian come to twist the knife deeper? Or Julian, perhaps, with his strange mix of calm and concern?
His throat tightened. The silence that followed the second knock pressed against him harder than noise ever could. He didn't move. Not yet.
Another knock echoed, steady, waiting.
Kairen's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His hand reached for the door handle, hesitated, then stopped. He closed his eyes, listening to the hammering of his own heartbeat.
Whoever was behind that door could drag him further into hell or offer him the rarest thing in this place: mercy.
Kairen moved back from the door, his glare already sharpened, ready to cut down whoever dared bring him another stack of nonsense.
"Come in," he said flatly, his tone a loaded warning.
The door cracked open, and instead of a trembling staff with files in hand, Julian's face appeared, cautious, peeking through. His eyes flicked to Kairen's expression before he asked, almost carefully,
"Can I really come in?
For a beat, Kairen just stared. Then the edge of his mouth twitched, and a sharp, weary laugh escaped him. Relief loosened the tension in his shoulders.
"Oh, thank God," he muttered, half to himself.
"Of course, come in."
Julian stepped in fully, closing the door behind him. There was a trace of delight in his expression, the kind that couldn't be hidden even if he tried. It wasn't anything exaggerated
just a softness around his eyes, a warmth in his gaze. He looked glad, almost relieved, to find Kairen no longer wound up like before.
Kairen caught it immediately. "Why do you like staring at me like that?" he asked, tilting his head with a faint smirk. "Is this always on purpose?"
Julian blinked, startled by the call-out, and the warmth in his face sharpened into embarrassment. He shook his head, murmuring quickly, "Sorry. I just… I'm happy you're not in that mood anymore."
Kairen exhaled, long and tired, his smirk fading into something dryer. He nodded once, rubbing the back of his neck before muttering, "I've accepted my fate." The words slipped out with a brittle laugh, one that carried no real humor.
The room fell quiet for a moment. The glow of the desk lamp highlighted the exhaustion beneath Kairen's eyes, the pile of scattered papers, the lingering weight of a day he still hadn't escaped. Julian stood across from him, watching with that same quiet care, as if he wanted to reach across the space between them but wasn't sure how.