Page 131 of Steel Beauty

“If this is real—and it sure sounds like it could be—you owe it to yourself to see where it leads.”

I swallow hard, Violet’s words striking a chord. “But Vi, he wants a life here in Australia— marriage, a family, roots. And I don’t know if I’m ready for all of that.”

“Magnolia Steel, if anyone can find a way to be both wildandrooted, it’s you. Just because he’s ready for all that doesn’t mean he’s expecting it from you tomorrow.”

“But it wouldn’t be fair to lead him on when I don’t know if I can ever get there.”

“How are you going to know if you don’t try?”

“That’s going to be hard to pull off with nearly 10,000 miles between us.” Talk about redefining long-distance relationships.

“You sound like you’ve already got one foot out the door, but from where I’m sitting, your heart hasn’t budged an inch.”

“And my heart won’t budge. It’ll always be with him wherever he is, no matter the distance between us.”

“Come on, Mags. You can’t let something this good slip through your fingers because it doesn’t fit the picture you painted. If he’s worth it—and it sure sounds like he is—you’ll figure it out.”

A shaky laugh slips out, the tension in my chest easing—just a little. . “I swear, you’re too good to me, Vi. I don’t know how I’d survive without you.”

“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out. And don’t you dare let fear make your choices for you. This is your life, Mags. Make it one you’ll look back on with no regrets.”

I manage a soft laugh, even as my throat constricts. “Thank you, Violet. Truly. I needed to hear that.”

And now I’ve got a lot to figure out.

“Just don’t forget, if you end up miserable because you played it safe and didn’t even try, I’ll be right here to say, ‘I told you so.’ But also, I’ll be armed with a tub of rocky road ice cream.”

A genuine smile tugs at my lips, her words easing some of the ache inside me. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

We exchange goodbyes, and as I tuck my phone into my bag, a strange blend of comfort and unease settles over me. Violet’s words echo in my mind, simultaneously steadying me and stirring up the storm of emotions I can’t escape.

Oh, Alexander Björn Sebring III.

What are you doing to me—making me question everything I thought I knew? My plans, my rules, the neat little boxes I put my life in… you’ve gone and turned them all upside down, and worse? I don’t even know if I want to put them back in their places.

I exhale, shaky and uncertain, and then… movement catches my eye. My stomach drops like a stone.

Celeste is standing there, her expression an enigma, her sharp gaze trained directly on me. Her smile, poison wrapped in politeness, sharpens. “Unfortunate, isn’t it? My overhearing your little heart-to-heart about Alex. I’d apologize for eavesdropping, but we both know I’m not sorry.”

I lock eyes with her, forcing my nerves to steady. “Your lack of remorse isn’t exactly surprising.”

Her gaze hardens, and her smug smile deepens, gleaming with satisfaction. “Still, you might want to be more cautious about spilling your heart. You never know who’s paying attention.”

A prickling unease rises under my skin, the feeling of exposure tightening like a vise around my chest.

Her expression sharpens, her words laced with venom. “What you’re doing with Alex? That’s called crossing lines. Sleeping with a client is unprofessional and unethical. Honestly, it’s disgraceful—taking advantage of him like that.”

I know how this game works—there’s only one rule: deny everything.

My pulse thunders in my ears, but I inhale deeply, drawing strength from the quiet resolve inside me. Raising my chin, I meet her gaze with a calmness I don’t entirely feel. “You’re grasping at straws, Celeste. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her sharp laugh pierces the air, cold and cutting, while her smile drips with triumph. “Oh, but I do. Your little arrangement with Alex? Crossing professional lines, indulging your whims? It’s reckless. And it’s all about to come crashing down.”

Her words dangle in the air, bait disguised as certainty, and my thoughts spiral into overdrive. Celeste is ruthless—she doesn’t just play the game; she rewrites the rules to suit her. If there’s one thing she excels at, it’s exploiting weakness. For all I know, she’s recording this, her claws ready to seize on any slip, any word she can distort into a weapon.

The idea knots my stomach, but I force an outward calm. My muscles tense as a sobering truth crystallizes: Celeste isn’t fishing for information—she already knows too much. Far more than she should. But how has she pieced this together? And, more importantly, what’s her next move?

I maintain a composed facade, forcing calm even as every nerve in my body buzzes with the need to proceed carefully. This isn’t just a conversation. It’s a high-stakes game, and Celeste is playing for keeps.

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