Chapter 3

The day of reckoning came on Saturday. She seriously thought about not attending the charity event at the Royal Palace Hotel, but as a future representative of Romano's, she knew she had to make an appearance.

She had been filling her days with going to her apartment and seeing the redecorating. Her things had been shipped from France and would arrive within the next week.

Her clothes had arrived yesterday, something she was grateful for. The tangerine dress with the scoop neckline and fitted bodice was perfect. She had gone to the salon, straightened her curls, and was wearing it in a loose chignon at the nape of her neck. Sitting on the vanity stool, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her makeup was perfect, of course, because she had learned years ago to apply it herself. The lipstick was burnt orange and matched her dress. Hammered gold hoops were at her lobes.

She added diamond knobs to the two extra piercings on her lobes. Taking up the expensive perfume bottle, she spritzed tiny amounts on her pulse points and noticed her hands trembling.

Taking a deep breath, she put the bottle away. She had just pushed gracefully off the stool when there was a knock on the door.

"It's open." She called, going into the closet and choosing a delicate-looking peach cashmere jacket to drape over her naked arms and back.

A long, low whistle sounded behind her, and she turned to smile at her brother.

"If you are hoping to make a grand entrance, I would say you are at a good start." His admiring gaze slid from her face to the stunning contrast of the dress against her skin.

"Are we running late?"

"A little. Wow!" He shook his head as he continued to stare at her. "I used to be so proud whenever I saw you on a magazine cover or strutting your stuff on the stage, but I never really appreciated how beautiful you are." His voice became hoarse. You look so much like Mom."

"I take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." His fingers touched one smooth cheek. "You are going to blow away the rest of the women in that ballroom."

"Shall we?"

He nodded and helped her with the jacket.

*****

He contemplated just ditching the entire thing and suggesting to Madeline that they go back to her place. But his date was in her element. He pretended he was not scouring the room for a glimpse of her. He had seen Leesa, Kelly, Monique, and several other wives and had a brief conversation before moving on.

He had also been careful not to mention the woman who had caused such havoc in his life. His mother had asked him several times if he was okay, and he had told her to stop worrying.

He was accepting a drink from the bartender when he realized that the room had gone strangely quiet. It was as if everyone had turned into stone. The hairs on his head stood up, and his heart started hammering inside his chest.

Steeling himself to get his first look at her, he took a sip of his scotch and turned around. Nothing had prepared him for what he saw.

The skimpy dress came halfway to her thighs, making her well-toned legs appear longer. And she did not look real. With a twisting feeling inside his gut, he realized that men were gawking at her, even the ones who were married.

The rage he had tried to tamp down came roaring back up, and he had to make a conscious effort not to stride over and drag her from the room. Tearing his eyes from her, he passed a glance at the man she was with and could not account for the relief when he discovered that the guy was her brother.

Seeking out Madeline, he finished his drink and went to find her.

"Hi, darling." She smiled at him, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. "Your mother is about to make a speech."

Celeste said all the right things and even managed to flirt with the men who had come over to compliment her and welcome her back home. She even managed to speak to her friends as if her senses were not giving off alarming signals from him.

"how about a drink?" Her dark-haired admirer suggested.

"Sounds lovely. I need something strong."

"Margarita?"

"Stir not shaken," she told him absently. He had told her his name, but she was having trouble remembering it.

"I am at your service." His earnest voice wrung a laugh from her.

"How sweet." She was just turning around when she saw them coming towards her. At first, she had no idea what to do. People were all around her and the press had come out in full force. She would have to face him, get it over, and finish it.

Pasting a dazzling smile on her lips, she faced the man who had haunted her life since she told him goodbye that rainy day in summer.

"Rylan, how nice to see you."

She could feel everyone around them waiting with bated breath to see his response. Even she was shocked at the contemptuous look on his face as he stared at her. Then, without a word of acknowledgment, he guided his date past her as if she were not there.

The hatred in his eyes and the look on her face left her so shaken that she turned blindly around, looking for her brother. Colin had seen the encounter and was already making his way toward her.

"Here," he whispered in her ear. "You are okay, honey."

"Thanks. Someone went to get me a drink. Oh, Colin." She shuddered out a breath. "Oh God. I had no idea it would be so hard."

"He had no right to ignore you like that." He said harshly, wincing as she dug her fingers into his arm.

"He has every right." Taking a deep breath, she somehow composed herself and accepted the drink.

"Would you like us to leave?" Her brother asked her quietly.

"And have everyone thought I was running with my tail between my legs?" She laughed shakily. "Not a chance."

"That's my girl," he said approvingly. "Let's go and find something to eat."

She performed her role. Inside, she was dying, but on the outside, she flirted with the men gathered around her and was not short of company.

She listened to the speeches made and even volunteered to take several shots for the reporters mingling around the room. She politely nodded for Michelle Braithwaite, who had the good sense to stay out of her way.

And Rylan did not come near her for the rest of the evening. She had to endure the pain of watching him dancing intimately with his date and her clinging to his arm. When he bent his head to listen to what she was saying, Celeste felt like her heart was about to break into pieces.

She almost doubled over in pain when she saw him kissing her and realized that she could not stand anymore. Nodding to Colin, she indicated she was ready to leave, and he came toward her instantly.

Rylan watched her leave and felt the adrenaline draining away. He had been putting on quite the performance and had even managed to convince himself that he was doing very well. But now that she was leaving, there was no longer a need to pretend.

He felt the weariness dropping over him like a tight, uncomfortable cloak. He waited a few minutes before telling Madeline he had a headache and was ready to call it a night. She had not commented that he had given Celeste ‘the cut direct,' and he did not see the need to fill her in. He was furious with himself for behaving that way.

He had been coaching himself on how to behave when he was face to-face with her, and all of that had gone out the window as soon as he was in front of her.

All he had felt was the incredible rage and the words she had said to him that terrible summer. He kept the letter to remind himself why he had no business yearning for her and would read it occasionally.

"Shall we find Michelle-"

"No." He forced a smile. "I just need to get out of here and take something for this pain."

*****

"You okay?" Colin stared at her with a frown as she slipped out of her heels and left them in the foyer.

"As soon as I pour myself a scotch, I can answer that." Padding to the cabinet, she grabbed the bottle and poured a glass. "Join me?"

"Why not?" Taking off his sports jacket, he folded it neatly over the back of the sofa and sat. "Thanks," he murmured when she walked over and handed it to him.

"He had no right insulting you like that."

"He had every right." Sinking next to him, she curled her legs beneath her and swallowed her drink.

"You had the decency to greet him, and reporters were swarming all over the room."

Turning her head, she stared at him with a whimsical smile. "Did I tell you what was in the letter I sent him?"

"It does not matter-"

"No." She shook her head. "Before judging him unfairly, you need to know what I said to him. His mother had convinced me that if I did not stop seeing Rylan, she would take away my scholarship. She accused me of trying to ruin her son's life." She closed her eyes briefly.

"She tried to appeal to my sense of decency, as she put it. She said that if I cared about him, I would think about his future." She blinked away the sudden tears. "She said she had not too long lost her husband, and Rylan was in line to take over the company"s reins. You see, we were planning to elope-"

"You were sixteen!"

She nodded. "Yes, and he was eighteen. We were determined to be together, and nothing would stop us. We would go to a state where I would not need your approval as my guardian, and he, eighteen, could do whatever he wanted. His mother somehow found out about it and confronted me.

At first, I would not listen to her until she told me about taking back your scholarship, and she made me feel guilty about taking Rylan away from his dreams of going to college and taking over his company." Finishing the drink, she rose gracefully to the cabinet to fill her glass.

Colin watched her, feeling the despair and helplessness washing over him. She had done it for him, and even though he had known what she and Braithwaite had been planning, he would have done his best to stop it, but she had suffered.

Taking the drink with her, she sat back down on the edge with the glass cradled in her hands. "I sat down that night and composed the nastiest, the most painful letter I could think of. I told him I had made a mistake and that we had a silly crush.

I then reminded him that I had gotten an offer, wanted to be a model, and that getting married so young would tie me down. I made it so convincing that even I believed it."

She took a deep swallow of the scotch. "He came over, furious and wanting to know if someone had gotten to me. I gave him my best scornful look and said I wanted to see the world and be in the spotlight. I did my best to show him that I was a frivolous teenager who wanted the things of the world more than I wanted him.

I told him it was nice- I said nice and that it had been interesting being with someone like him, but I wanted more. When I saw the look on his face, it almost sent me to my knees."

Her hands clenched around the glass as her expression turned anguished.

"I broke him. When I was finished, he had tears in his eyes and was on his knees, begging me to reconsider. I told him to get out - I never wanted to see him again."

When she finished, there was silence, only broken by the pendulous ticking of the antique clock above the piano.

"Oh, Celeste." Her brother whispered hoarsely.

She looked at him then, the tears stark in her eyes. "So, you see why I cannot blame him for hating me?"

"You did it for him and me. His mother had no right putting that on you."

"I used to hate her, really hate her right after I left. I would spend time plotting my revenge against her, but something she said always resonated with me. She told me to put myself in her shoes. She was right because he was her son and had a bright future in front of him. She was fighting for her son, and I must respect that."

"You should find a way to tell him why you did what you did. You both need to move on."

"He has."

"No." Colin shook his head. "When you hate someone so much, it just means that the hurt and the pain are still very much there. He is still hurting, and so are you."

Leaning her head back against the cushions, she closed her eyes wearily. She saw how he looked at her and how achingly handsome he was. His blonde hair was shorter now, but it suited him.

A cynicism stamped on his face marred the almost perfect angles and planes, and it pained her that she was the one who had put it there. "I'll never forget the look on his face then and earlier tonight." Finishing the drink, she went to put away the glass. "I am turning in for the night."

Colin watched her leave, the sorrow at her incredible unhappiness making him feel helpless. When their parents died, they had gone from being carefree teens to being thrown into an abyss of absolute despair.

He had been tasked with being the parent and had stepped up to the plate without hesitation. Celeste had become a model teenager, ensuring everything was okay at the house.

Their parents' insurance money had allowed them to live in relative comfort, but his dream of becoming a lawyer would not happen unless he received a full scholarship. He had been over the moon when it had been made possible at the exclusive high school they attended. He would defer one year of college to ensure his sister was set.

But then she approached him with the idea of signing with a modeling agency. He had balked at it at first, only changing his mind when he met Marcus. He knew she had been seeing Rylan Braithwaite and was concerned about the intensity of the relationship. He had warned her about it, but she would not listen.

Staring into his drink broodingly, he shuddered at the look on Rylan Braithwaite's face. The saying, ‘If looks could kill,' came to mind. The man had looked murderous. Tossing back the drink, he rose and put his glass away. He was too restless to fall asleep, and work did not appeal to him right now.

*****

He woke up with sweat on his forehead and dribbling down his face. The nightmare had been hellish, more vicious than usual, and he had no doubt what had brought it on.

Seeing her again had thrown him into a quagmire of emotions he thought he had dealt with over the years. Madeline had suggested they return to her place, and he had seen the disappointment when he curtly refused.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he padded into the bathroom. Standing at the sink, he dragged restless fingers through his damp hair and stared at the haunted expression on his face. He thought in anger and despair that he would never be over her.

Why the hell had she not stayed away? At least when she was thousands of miles away, he had put her back in his mind.

He had been such a fool over her. Even after that damned letter that had torn him into shreds and her follow-up words, he had waited two years before going after her. He had tracked her whereabouts, which had been easy to do because she had started appearing on magazine covers.

She had been in Italy then and practically lived with a fellow model. He had seen them together at a party and realized she had meant every word she had said to him.

He had returned home right after, determined to tear her out of his heart. Snatching the glass from the counter, he filled it with water and swallowed so fast that he almost choked.

Damn her to hell! He thought viciously as he hurled the glass into the wall beside him.

*****

"What do you think?" Pauline asked anxiously as they circled the area of the combined living and dining area.

"It's spacious."

"And great for entertaining," she said, gesturing to the open spaces and the quaint black-and-white kitchen.

"I am not much of a cook, but yes."

"The bedrooms are delightful."

"You are forgetting that I have seen photos." She reminded the realtor with a teasing smile.

"I know how exacting you are."

"I am impressed. I can move in now?"

"As soon as you sign your name on the dotted line, your furnishings are coming. When did you say?"

"They should be here in a couple of days," she said as she wandered up the steps to the living room. "I love the design of this place. Who owns these apartments?"

Pauline looked at her in surprise. "I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"This entire complex is owned by Braithwaite's."

Celeste went still at that and had to force herself not to show any reaction. "Oh? Did it say so on the paperwork?"

"It did. Is there a problem?"

"None. I am just surprised, that's all." She turned to the woman with a smile. "Where is the contract?"

Pauline beamed at her and handed her the paperwork. "When are you planning on moving?"

"I promised Colin I would stay another week at his place." She signed her name with a flourish.

"I can imagine he is reluctant to let you out of his sight."

"Hmm."

"Okay, honey, here is the card, and you are all set."

"Thanks, Pauline. I will be here for a little bit more."

"No problem." The woman looked at her watch. "I have a showing in a couple of minutes. The utilities and internet connection are already set up."

"Thanks." She waited until the woman had left before wandering upstairs to the three-bedroom suites. Pauline was right; the rooms with lime green and cream designs are delightful. The master bedroom was very large, and the closet was comfortable.

The hardwood floors shone so richly that she liked and reflected the pale sunlight coming through the double floor-to-ceiling windows.

And there was a window seat! Hurrying over, she swung her legs up and leaned back, staring out the window at the traffic that looked like tiny toys. Her apartment belonged to Braithwaite. She shook her head and wondered if she would ever escape them.

Last night, she had spent the time tossing and turning on her bed, recalling, of all things, the way used to make her feel. Drawing her knees up, she propped her chin on her folded hands and felt the nostalgia, the yearning stirring.

Maybe Colin was right; maybe it was time to set the record straight. She could not bear the thought of him hating her so much, and what she had seen on his face was pure and unadulterated hatred.