Page 111 of A Temporary Forever

I barely stop myself from punching Quinn in his fucking nose when they luckily open the doors to the adjacent ballroom, and everyone moves.

Celeste turns to get a water. Good girl.

I take the opportunity and hiss at Corm, “Stay away from my wife.” My voice is low, so she doesn’t hear it, but it doesn’t leave any room for interpretation.

“Relax, I just wanted to find what got you to tie the knot so suddenly. Or rather, who.”

My jaw ticks. Fuck, did he get her drunk to findout…? Did she tell him the truth? Is he going to use it against me?

I put all my effort into not showing my thoughts on my face. “It’s none of your business, Quinn.”

“I’m just being friendly.” He lifts his arms in surrender, a cocky smirk on his face.

“He’s been friendly.” Celeste puts her hand on my back, and the rush of ownership that boosts through me should be concerning. But it isn’t. “I hope you don’t mind I told him the truth.”

I snap my head to her. “What?”

“That it was love at first sight.” She winks at Corm.

Little minx. I pull her closer and kiss her temple, inhaling the feel of her. And for the first time tonight, my nervous energy dissipates.

Celeste lets out an adorable moan. Fuck, she’s a cute drunk.

“I’m sure Corm appreciated your candor. Let’s find our table.”

Corm leaves us, presumably remembering that he came with arm candy of his own and should find her before we get seated.

“Drink your water, black swan,” I demand.

“I was pissed about your ‘I hate your dress’ comment, so I had two martinis.”

I don’t hate her dress, but I’m not going to argue that now.

“Only two?” I look at her skeptically. That makes no sense.

“I never told you this, but I can’t hold my liquor. At all.” She stumbles, giggling.

Wrapping my arms around her, I let out a laugh.

I steer us toward the ballroom entrance, and my gaze collides with steel-blue eyes. My laugh dies on my lips.

Chapter 30

Celeste

The one time I met Charles van den Linden was up there as the most embarrassing day of my life.

The man destroyed my career once, and the way he glares at me right now sobers me up. Caleb tenses beside me.

“Merde,” I mumble.

When I got my dress for this event earlier, I was excited about spending a glamorous night out. I hoped Caleb and I could just have a blast, without thinking about work, our entanglement, our growing unnamed feelings, his daughter, or my visa.

Just two people having fun.

But his question about my dress triggered the deepest wounds in me, and I overreacted to his offhand comment. I kept repeating tomyself that Caleb is not my father, but the memories still streamed in.

I know, deep down in my marrow, he isn’t like my father. But his comment… the motivation behind it… it unleashed so many fucked-up insecurities.

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