After spending five years as Adrian Blackwood’s private secretary and the woman in his bed, Celeste Hartwell had finally, on her birthday of all days, received a wedding dress from him with his own hands.
French handmade lace. Delicate, gorgeous, almost unreal.
Calling it every girl’s dream wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
Too bad...
The very next thing Adrian said shoved her straight into hell.
"Serena doesn’t want to marry Dominic Sterling. One week from now, at the wedding, you’ll wear it and take her place."
His voice, as cool and flat as ever, landed right by her ear. A moment ago, he had still been tangled up with her, skin against skin, and the thin sheen of sweat at her temple hadn’t even faded yet.
She couldn’t tell if it was because he’d exhausted her so badly that her brain was still lagging behind, or because she honestly thought she’d heard him wrong.
Her fingers clenched the edge of the blanket. She sat there frozen for nearly a full minute before any color returned to her small face.
Forcing down the stabbing ache spreading through her chest, Celeste told herself maybe she had misunderstood. She steadied her voice as much as she could and quietly asked,
"Mr. Blackwood... are you saying you want me to marry another man?"
At that, the tall figure who had already stepped halfway toward the bathroom paused.
Adrian’s dark brows drew together, a flicker of impatience surfacing in his eyes. "You’ll just wear the veil and stand in for her during the ceremony. It’s to satisfy the elders."
Normally, once Celeste understood what he wanted, she would never ask another question.
She knew Adrian too well. A man of few words, someone who liked silence and had zero patience for noise.
But today, in the end, she just couldn’t swallow it.
"If the marriage is fake anyway, and no one can tell under a veil, then why won’t Miss Serena Whitmore go herself?"
After all, even if her face and figure did resemble Serena’s a little, she still wasn’t the real person. The odds of getting exposed weren’t low. If anything, they were terrifyingly high.
Adrian shot her a glance, sharp and heavy with pressure.
The black robe hanging off his body slipped lower with the sudden movement, and the line of his throat shifted as his Adam’s apple rolled once.
Before he could even say a word, Celeste Hartwell fired off another string of questions, one after another.
"Is it because Mr. Blackwood can't stand the thought of seeing her in a wedding dress, standing next to another man? Even if he knows it's all fake?"
"And this idea..." She looked straight at him, her voice light but sharp. "Miss Whitmore came up with it, didn't she?"
"Celeste Hartwell."
Adrian Blackwood rarely called her by her full name like that. When he did, it was basically a warning. His gaze turned cold, his tone low and edged. "Don't compare yourself to her."
The hotel suite went dead quiet in an instant.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet either. It was stiff, heavy, like the air had frozen over while something dark kept churning underneath.
Then his phone suddenly rang.
It was Serena Whitmore's exclusive ringtone.
Under the harsh white light in the room, Adrian's already sharp features looked even colder, almost cutting. A trace of irritation sat in his voice as he started to speak. "If you don't want to—"
"No, I'm willing."
Celeste cut him off before he could finish.
"I told you before. To repay you for saving my life, I'll agree to three requests from you, no matter what. No complaints. No regrets."
When she lifted her head again, every trace of emotion had already been wiped clean from her eyes. All that was left was a perfect, professional smile, neat and empty.
"Thank you, Mr. Blackwood, for the wedding dress."
She watched him pick up the phone and walk into the bathroom. Then she quietly got dressed and went downstairs alone.
She flagged down a taxi at random, got in, gave the driver her address, then raised a hand and rolled the window down.
The damp, freezing night air rushed in at once.
It was so cold it felt like it could seep into her bones.
But weirdly enough, that kind of cold made people sober up fast.
Dominic Sterling's call came in right then.
His lazy, casual laugh drifted through the receiver. "So, you ready to admit you lost this time?"
"..."
"I told you, Adrian Blackwood doesn't love you at all. The only person in his heart is Serena Whitmore. But nope, you just had to not believe me."
Celeste's brows drew together. "You did that on purpose. The marriage alliance with the Whitmore family."
Dominic let out a short scoff and admitted it without even trying to hide it. "Mm-hmm. Had to go all in, didn't I? Otherwise, how much longer were you planning to keep fooling yourself?"
His voice turned a little more direct, though the lazy tone never fully left.
"You're the eldest daughter of the Hartwell family. Uncle Vincent Hartwell's one and only precious girl. So how long were you going to keep throwing yourself away before you finally woke up and faced reality?"
"He only saved you once, and you stayed by his side for five whole years! Nearly two thousand days and nights. If Adrian Blackwood had given you even half the attention he gives Serena Whitmore, you wouldn't still be stuck in this nowhere relationship without a name!"
Celeste Hartwell pressed her lips together and said nothing.
From the corner of her eye, the neon lights lining both sides of the street spilled into her gaze.
Flickering on and off, bright one second, dim the next.
Dominic Sterling let out a sigh. Then, for once, his voice lost its usual teasing edge and turned serious. "Celeste Hartwell, you're not going to back out on the bet, right?"
They had made that bet. Sworn on it, even. If Adrian Blackwood still refused to marry her in the end, then she would agree to marry him.
The call stayed connected like that. Neither of them spoke again. Only the timer on the screen kept climbing, second by second.
After a long while, Celeste finally said, "He still has two more requests left."
She had promised him.
And a promise was a promise.
Besides...
What if...
What if Adrian Blackwood's final request was for her to marry him?
