Smoke curled lazily in the dimly lit room, twisting around the tangled sheets like it had something to hide. Nolan lounged back, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, eyes half-lidded but restless. A woman with red hair and piercing blue eyes clung lightly to his arm, her warmth pressing against him, her presence faintly familiar in a way that unnerved him.
A sharp knock at the door cut through the tension.
"Boss," a voice said.
Nolan's head snapped up. Bone stood in the doorway, his posture rigid, eyes scanning the room disapprovingly.
The woman stiffened against Nolan's arm, startled by the intrusion. He exhaled slowly, a puff of smoke curling around them, and his voice dropped low.
"Get out," he said.
She hesitated, biting her lip, then bolted from the room. Her red hair bounced as she disappeared, leaving only the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. Bone turned his face away, pretending to ignore it, though his eyes flicked back once, noting the pattern, Nolan always seemed drawn to redheads. Probably tied to his ex-wife, he thought.
Nolan's mind, however, was elsewhere. Celine. He couldn't get her off his system. Every time he tried, the memory of her eyes, the way she moved, burned hotter than any other woman in his life.
Bone shifted, clearing his throat, and Nolan's gaze snapped back to him. "You brought something?" Nolan asked, tone sharp, impatient, hungry for information
"His name is August Creed. Thirty-four years old. Chef. Not just any chef, a man who had walked away from a world most would kill to be born into."
Nolan snorted, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette in his fingers. "A chef," he muttered, flicking ash into the tray, eyes narrowing. "Celine… seriously?"
He stood, only in his boxers, moving with that lazy precision that masked a dangerous control. Pouring himself a glass of whiskey, he swirled it, letting the amber liquid catch the dim light.
Born into privilege, Nolan reminded himself. Creed had access to money and influence most could only dream of. Yet he had abandoned it all to chase… what? Dreams? Passion? Ambition? A restaurant empire built from talent and willpower alone.
Previously married to Marissa Glee, now divorced, with full custody of his son. A man who knew responsibility and independence, and wore both like armor. Nolan's jaw tightened. The more he learned, the more dangerous Creed became.
Bone shrugged slightly. "Not much. He's… private. He gave up money, chased his culinary dreams. Lives quietly. No extended family ties we could find. Everything else is… hidden."
Nolan's lips pressed into a thin line. "So we know nothing about his background, nothing to use. Typical."
Bone's gaze shifted toward the side of the bed, "Boss… he's… different, though. Even with all the work I did…"
"Different… yes. And right now, the one thing that matters, Celine, is in his orbit. He's wealthy, private, untouchable, and he's standing between me and her."
Bone swallowed, sensing the storm in Nolan's eyes. "What do we do?"
Nolan's gaze went back to the empty room. "We watch. We learn. And we wait for the perfect moment. Because she's mine. And Creed… he's just another obstacle."
***
Stacy's car pulled away, leaving Celine on the quiet street. She tugged her bag strap over her shoulder, smiling faintly to herself. Stacy had had her family breakfast to attend, so she'd dropped Celine off, insisting she enjoy the rest of her morning at home.
Celine lingered at the doorstep, hand brushing the doorframe. Even though she lived here, even though August had said she could come and go, she hesitated. A quiet, early morning stillness filled the apartment behind the door, and for a moment she wondered if she was interrupting his routine.
She adjusted her bag, took a slow breath, and whispered, "It's fine… just go in."
With that, she opened the door, stepping inside, the familiar scent of the apartment greeting her. The day was still young, and she felt the tiny thrill of being here, of seeing him again.
August sat on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, fingers tapping absently across the keys. The soft morning light spilled through the windows, and the apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the coffee machine.
He looked up and noticed her at the doorway. Celine, standing there with that small, hesitant smile, bag still slung over her shoulder.
A warmth spread through him at the sight.
"Morning," he said softly, setting the laptop aside.
"Morning," she replied, stepping forward. Before she even realized it, she leaned up and pecked him lightly on the cheek.
August's lips curved into a small smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're early," he said, voice teasing but gentle.
"I… Stacy dropped me off," Celine murmured, shrugging slightly, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "Thought I'd come in before the day gets busy."
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "I'm glad you came," he said simply, and the air between them felt light, intimate, like morning sun spilling over familiar comfort.
Celine smiled, a little shy, a little warm, feeling that small but undeniable sense of being cared for, safe and noticed in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.
August stood, stretching slightly before moving toward the kitchen. "Coffee?" he asked over his shoulder, already opening the cupboard for mugs.
Celine nodded, smiling softly. "Yes, please… black, like always."
He chuckled, the sound low and easy, and began preparing it. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the apartment, wrapping around them like a small comfort.
"You've really been taking it easy today," he said, glancing over his shoulder as he poured the hot coffee into her favorite mug. "Finally letting yourself rest?"
"I… yeah," she admitted, taking the mug from him, letting the warmth seep into her hands
August leaned casually against the counter, watching her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Good. You deserve it."
Celine sipped the coffee, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction. "You always make it perfect," she said quietly, warmth spreading beyond the cup in her hands.
He shrugged, though his eyes lingered on her, attentive and tender. "I know what you like," he said simply.
Celine settled into the chair, curling slightly into it as she held her mug close, letting the warmth steady her.
August watched her for a moment before walking over and dropping into the seat beside her, stretching his arm along the backrest casually.
"You free later?" he asked.
She glanced at him over the rim of her cup. "Yeah… why?"
He tilted his head slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Liam wants to go to the park."
Her brows lifted. "Oh?"
"With you."
She blinked, surprised. "With me?"
"Yeah." He nodded once, lips twitching. "Apparently, I'm no longer interesting."
That drew a soft laugh from her. "I doubt that."
She shook her head lightly, a small smile forming. "He's… warming up to me, I think. At first he was a bit…"
August let out a low chuckle, cutting in. "You tripped him."
Celine froze.
Then slowly, very slowly, she turned to look at him. "I did not trip him," she said, defensive, then paused.
Her face changed.
"…Okay, I did."
August raised a brow, clearly enjoying himself.
"It was an accident!" she added quickly, grimacing as the memory came rushing back. "He just ran into me and—ugh… that was so bad."
She dropped her head slightly, pressing her lips together. "I thought he hated me after that."
"He did," August said lightly.
Her eyes snapped up.
"I'm kidding," he added, a small smile pulling at his lips. "He just… remembers everything."
Celine let out a breath, half laughing, half groaning. "Great. So the first impression I gave your son is… assault."
August laughed quietly, shaking his head. "And yet… he still wants to go to the park with you."
That softened her.
She looked down at her cup, smiling faintly. "Yeah…"
She took a sip of her coffee,
"And," August added casually, like it meant nothing, "my parents want to meet the woman Liam hasn't stopped talking about."
She choked.
Celine coughed, nearly spilling her coffee as she pulled the cup away, eyes wide. "Your—what?"
August leaned forward instantly. "Hey—careful."
She waved him off, still coughing lightly, her cheeks flushing. "I'm fine… I'm fine…"
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little uncertain. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that. I know things have been… a lot. We don't have to go. I mean—there's no rush—"
"August."
He stopped.
She reached for his hands, warm fingers wrapping around his, stopping him from talking.
Her smile spread slowly, bright despite the lingering embarrassment.
"It's fine," she said softly. "Let's do it."
For a second, he just looked at her… then his shoulders relaxed, something quiet and relieved settling in his gaze.