Chapter 6

"Come on in." Celeste waved a hand to gesture to them before closing the door.

"We have pizza from Scorcese's and two bottles of the finest blend money can buy," Kelly said grandly as she went down the steps and into the sunken living room.

"I love the view." Leesa gushed, rushing over to the window. Turning around, she held up the painting she had brought with her. "One of Jackson's more gentle pieces."

"And I brought a plant." Not to be outdone, Monique placed the orchid on a table in the middle of the room, along with detailed instructions on how to take care of it.

"Guys, thanks." Celeste padded barefoot towards the wide open space that was the kitchen.

"Would you like the tour now or after we eat?"

"After, " the three women chorused.

"In that case, let's eat here. I am still in the process of unpacking things and sorting stuff out." She grabbed plates from the cupboard to put on the swirling blue and green counter.

"Colin was here helping me last night, and someone is coming to do the heavy lifting."

Passing the plates to her friends, she dug through a drawer and found a wine opener.

"Glasses are to your right, Kelly."

She waited until the wine was poured, and they had settled down to eat the pizza.

"God, this is delicious," she murmured, closing her eyes in delight.

"You could pretty much eat anything without adding weight," Kelly recalled.

"It used to annoy the hell out of me." Leesa mused, biting off a chunk and chewing. "But you had youth on your side."

"And wonderful genes." Celeste grinned. "And besides, I was incredibly active and still am."

"You were into everything. Kickboxing-"

"Actual boxing."

"Tennis, football, swimming and rock climbing." Kelly shook her head. "I wonder where you found time to do all that."

"I was always an outdoors person, even when I was a child." She looked at Monique, who was sipping wine delicately. "I am looking forward to this assignment. It will be different from walking the catwalk, and I want to settle down, take things slower, and become involved in less competition."

"It's going to be an intense campaign," Monique warned her.

"I can handle it." Picking up her wine, she took a sip. "And I need some advice."

"We figured that was coming," Kelly said quietly. "Rylan?"

Celeste nodded. "He hates me, and you know why." She spilled everything one night when she was eighteen and celebrating her first cover, and later, she confided in Monique.

"We saw the two of you together at the club."

Celeste nodded. "He came to my room, and we-" She shook her head and took another sip of the wine. "We - he spent the night and told me he never wanted to see me again."

"After spending the night with you?" Kelly stared at her with lifted brows. "Surely, you do not believe that."

"I tried to explain what happened, but he does not want to hear."

"Make him," Leesa said firmly. "We know you are still in love with him."

"I am."

"Then darling, you are going to have to fight for him. Kelly and I had to get down and dirty to get our husbands. You are going to have to do the same."

"He is avoiding me."

"Are you going to let that stop you?" The usually quiet and composed Monique demanded.

All three women stared at her in surprise, and she shrugged. "My love story was not as complicated, and I wasn't the type to ‘fight for your man.'

But I had to learn pretty quickly. My husband was Italian royalty, and I was a plain school teacher. At some point in the marriage, I had to learn to stand up to him and his family. I had to make him see me."

She gave Celeste a steady gaze. "You have a lot of confidence, and I suppose, along with Kelly and Leesa, it comes from being on the stage most of the time. Rylan is on the verge of marrying a woman he is not in love with; don't allow him to make that mistake."

*****

It was quite late when they left, and after the cleaning up, she left to go upstairs to her bedroom.

The bed - a massive custom-made chestnut from Italy, along with a matching dresser, armoire, and chest of drawers had been hauled upstairs by the movers and was already in place. Her clothes, and she had to acknowledge that she had way too much!

They were already hung neatly in the large closet. The ruby red drapes were hung at the windows. There were several of them, giving the room added space, and the open concept of the entire apartment extended to the living areas.

She could see her bathroom from her bedroom. What had sold her in the first place was the enormous bath with the padded headrest. The place was ultra-modern but had a homey feel, something that she yearned for. Dragging off her clothes, she took out a filmy kimono from her lingerie drawer and tugged it on.

She had told the girls that she intended to fight for Rylan and would do just that. But first, she was examining herself for motives. He was going to ask her that much. She knew him. When they had been together all those years ago, she had expressly told him that she did not care about his money or that he was the son and heir to a fortune.

"I intend to have my own money someday. I know I am not what your mother wants for you, but I am not a gold-digger."

He had laughed it off, but she had been serious about it. Rylan Braithwaite had been royalty at the exclusive school they attended. His family name was revered, not only because generations of Braithwaite had attended the school, but they had also donated millions to the institution.

She and her brother had been scholarship kids—an experiment that had been put in place a few years prior to their attending to give ‘the lesser kids' a chance to get quality education.

She became popular almost immediately because of her looks and athletic and competitive streak.

So, it was natural for the most popular boy in school to notice her. What had started out as mild flirtation on his part had turned into something much more than that. It was not just a teenage crush; it had blossomed into something neither of them saw coming.

Getting the glass of wine she had brought upstairs; she sat behind the exquisite antique desk she had found at a small store in Pompeii and switched on the lamp.

Her career - the lights, the glamor and the excitement - had been waning for more than a year now. She had gone into modeling to escape the torment of losing the man she loved and at first had been caught up in the rush.

Her success had stunned her at first. Marcus had told her from the beginning that she had a natural ability. Her brother had insisted that she finish school and go to college.

"Even if you have to do it online. Modeling has a shelf life, and you will need something to fall back on when you are no longer appealing to the public."

She had listened, and in between photo shoots and posing for what seemed like hours, she had dedicated herself to going back to school. The result—degrees in finance and computer science.

She did not have the actual college experience, something she regrets, but at least she had the education. She had enough money from her gigs and investments, stocks and bonds and portfolios, thanks to her brother, who was her money manager.

And now she would be receiving a steady income from Romano's. She was set for life but felt hollow inside. Taking a sip of the wine, she revised her strategy. She was going after a man who believed she had thrown him over for a career, and it would not be easy to convince him otherwise.

But she was determined and confident. What they had shared at the club a few nights ago instinctively made her realize that he was not immune to her and was still in love with her. It would be up to her to prove it to both of them.

*****

"I am afraid I don't have an appointment. I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by. Is he here?"

Fortunately for her, the woman was a fan, as indicated by her beaming smile and her granting of admittance to the hallowed suite of offices belonging to Rylan.

"He is in a meeting now, but you are welcome to wait." She glanced at her desktop to verify something. "He should be out of it in a few minutes. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, please. I am fine."

"I have to say that I am a big fan." Eleanor beamed at her. "I subscribe faithfully to ‘Women's Weekly" as well as Vogue, and that spread with you modeling those business suits and giving the money to the school for the blind. It had my heart fluttering."

Celeste silently thanked the Lord that the woman was a fan. It makes her plan so much easier.

"Children with disabilities happen to be a weakness of mine."

"It says that you are actively involved in several charities here in the States, including working with Down Syndrome children."

Celeste nodded. "And the parents as well. We have met several of them, and you cannot believe how difficult it is to care for them and their particular needs."

"I can imagine." The woman looked up and saw her boss walking into the room. "Mr. Braithwaite, you have an unexpected visitor."

Celeste saw when his head jerked up from the document he was perusing and a startled look on his face before it was replaced by bland disinterest.

"Celeste." He acknowledged her curtly.

"I dropped by for a visit." She rose gracefully. "I hope you don't mind."

The expression on his face told her that he minded, but with polite courtesy, he gestured toward his office.

"Hold my calls for the next few minutes."

"Of course." Eleanor did not seem aware of the tension hanging in the air as she smiled at Celeste. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise."

Rylan preceded her into the office and closed the doors behind them. Without inviting her to sit, he went straight behind his desk.

"I have often wondered what it would look like."

He watched as she wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling one-sided window and looked out.

"You can see the entire city from here," she murmured. Turning around, she looked at him. "It suits you."

"Now I can die happy." He retorted dryly.

Giving him an impish smile, she tilted her head to the side as she studied him.

"What is it?"

"You look like a kick-ass CEO in that suit."

"I happen to be one."

"I believe you."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

He tensed when she walked toward him, that sexy way she had about her that made the movement effortless and undeniably graceful. She was wearing skin-tight leather pants and ankle-length boots with thin red heels.

Her red and white shirt was roomy, with a hammered gold belt cinched around her small waist. Her thick dark curls were in some sort of twists and caught up on top of her head with a flimsy red scarf. Large gold hoops were at her lobes with tiny diamonds in the other piercings, and she did not look real.

"What are you doing?" He asked sharply as she eased a hip on the edge of his desk.

"What does it look like?" She asked mildly.

"I have work-'

"You left without a word that morning and have not called me."

His green eyes narrowed, and he felt as if he was drowning in the scent of her perfume. Her nearness was unnerving him and making his heart unsteady. "I already told you it was a one-time thing. I got you out of my system."

"Did you?" He did not like the way her lips curled, as if she did not believe a word he said. "I am afraid I cannot say the same."

He felt the pressure in his chest when she rose and moved a few inches so that she was standing in front of him. Her hand settled on his chest, and she felt the unsteady beating of his heart and the heat pouring through his body.

"Get away from me." He gritted.

"I can't." She whispered achingly. "I tried; you have no idea how much I have tried. I love you-"

"Don't!" He barked, one hand reaching up to grip her wrist. "You have no right to say that to me. You don't know the meaning of the word."

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shell-pink shirt, and it was as if they were both frozen in time. "Let me explain-"

"There is nothing you can say to me that will make a difference. It's over between us," he told her through clenched teeth.

"Why the hell do you have to be so damn stubborn?" She demanded.

"Get out."

"Rylan-"

"You destroyed me." He bit out hoarsely. "I wanted to die when you told me you never wanted to see me again. I stayed in bed-" His fingers were digging into her flesh, and he did not seem to care that he was making bruises.

"When you left, I wanted to end my life because I told myself that I could not go on without you." His eyes blazed from the memories she was stirring up inside him. "I did not want to live-"

Hauling her up against him, he gazed at the parted lips and felt his heart thundering inside his chest. "And I still want you," He whispered in an agonized tone. "I still want to slide myself deep inside you and stay there for hours - for days-"

Shaking his head, he shoved her away from him. "But we all have our cross to bear; evidently, you are mine. If it takes the rest of my life, I will tear you out of my mind. Now-" His tone became brisk. "Get out of my office, out of my building, and don't come back. You are not welcome."

Celeste was shaken to the core, not just the words or the agony behind them, but the look on his handsome face, the twisted cynicism stamped there.

"I suffered too." She told him shakily, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling.

"Yes," he told her sardonically. "The many magazine covers and photos of you having the time of your life all over Europe showed how much you were languishing. Just go away, Celeste, and leave me the hell alone."

"I can't." She stretched out a hand as if in appeal, but he just stared at her. "I love you, Rylan. I never stopped loving you, and one day, I hope that I will get the chance to prove to you that it has always been you and always will be." With that, she turned and walked out, slamming the doors shut behind her.

He stood where he was. Her scent, the exotic smell of her perfume, was lingering, and he suspected that it would stay that way for days. No amount of cleanser used when cleaning the office was going to work.

Of course, he did not believe her and would never allow himself to believe the words she said to him. She had lied to him before, pretending that she was in love with him, that she shared his feelings when it had all been a ploy, a sick plan of hers to use him.

Pushing away from the desk, he walked jerkily over to the cabinet. Touching the button, he grabbed the bottle of scotch and splashed a generous amount into the glass.

Walking over to the window, he fluently cursed her for barging into his office, into his space, and disrupting his ordered life. If she had stayed away, he could have continued living.

He was about to swallow the liquor when he heard the doors swinging open. "Eleanor, I need a minute," he snapped.

"Darling, it's me."

He swore silently and took a deep breath before facing his mother.

"Did we have a meeting?"

"No." Her green eyes scanned his face, heart-wrenching at the haunted look on his face.

"I heard you had a visitor."

"And?"

"Why was she here?"

"Mother-"

"Darling, you have to know that I would be informed. What did she want?"

"Nothing. She was in the neighborhood," he said with a twist of his lips.

"She is living in one of the apartments on Chrysler Street."

He jolted at that.

"You didn't know."

"No." He spared her a glance. "You have been keeping tabs on her."

"I am in charge of the apartments in that particular area."

"I see." He turned to refresh his drink. "I have work to do."

"You cannot let her back into your life."

"I am aware." Taking the drink with him, he moved over to his desk. "Please close the door on your way out." Discouraging any form of conversation, he pressed the intercom. "Please come in and bring the messages."

With one last look at him, Michelle left the office.

*****

"You sounded harassed over the phone." Marcus stared at her as he came forward to greet her.

"I hope I did not take you away from anything."

"Of course not. Sit. You look like you could use a pint."

"Or two." She agreed with a laugh as she lowered herself into the chair by the pool and took off her boots. She had sat in the parking lot fighting back tears. Not relishing the idea of returning to her apartment, she called Marcus and asked if he was home and if she could come over.

"Here you go." He handed her the can and sat across from her, noticing the tears on her lashes and the haunted look on her face.

"You had an encounter with Braithwaite."

"Is it that obvious?" She asked ruefully, taking a sip of the beer.

"In the past, whenever you saw a photo of him, whether on the internet or in magazines, you would break down. It came to a point where I could cheerfully strangle the guy."

"You know the story."

"I do, but it still does not stop me from being angry at him." He reached out to touch her hand. "Why can't he see that you are still into him?"

"I hurt him, Marcus." She whispered. "I went to his office just now, and the bitterness and anger I heard in his voice made me want to die. I left him in pain, so much so that he did not want to live." Leaning her head back, she took a careful breath. "It shattered me, and one part of me is saying I should leave him alone."

"And the other part?" Marcus asked her quietly.

"Is saying I would be a fool to even think of doing so. I have a feeling that he still loves me. Under all the pain and anger, he is still in love with me. But it's hard to get away from the hurt. And I did hurt him."

"He has to understand why."

"He does not want to hear what I have to say, and even so, he will always think I chose my career over him. It's a lose-lose situation. I should have confided in him instead of thinking it was all on me. I did not respect him enough to tell him what was happening."

"You were sixteen, for Christ's sake!"

"Precisely. He was eighteen and would have made better sense of it. I did not give him that choice nor that respect."