Damien sat still in the car, his gaze fixed on the woman curled up beside him. Celeste's head rested against his shoulder, her breath soft and even, lashes fanned delicately across her cheeks. Her presence was calming—too calming. The usual tightness in his chest seemed to loosen with every second she remained there, unaware of the storm raging inside him.
Lucien had long exited the car, murmuring something about a call he had to take. That was twenty minutes ago. Damien had every reason to follow him, to head up to his office, to carry on with his day—but something tethered him here. Or maybe someone.
Her hair smelled like a mix of coconut and lavender. Her hand had, at some point, drifted close to his—barely brushing his fingers. She was right there, so close and yet so far from the mess he called his reality. The fact that this small moment of peace came with such a heavy dose of guilt didn't make it any easier. He had no right to feel this at all.
But it felt… right.
Still, time was ticking.
He shifted slightly, a careful, reluctant movement, and gently whispered, "Celeste… we're here."
She didn't stir.
A fond smile touched his lips—briefly—before he tried again. "Celeste, wake up."
This time, she stirred, lashes fluttering as her eyes opened slowly. For a brief moment, she looked up at him, confused and sleepy, and Damien felt something tighten in his chest. The way she blinked, the way her brows furrowed softly—it was adorable.
And dangerous.
"Oh," she mumbled, pulling away with a soft gasp. "I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to—God, I fell asleep on you?"
Damien chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You were exhausted. It's fine."
Celeste straightened, brushing down her skirt and running a hand through her slightly tousled hair. She refused to meet his eyes at first, her cheeks visibly tinged with red. "I didn't mean to be inappropriate—"
"You weren't." His voice was calm. Firm.
And far too gentle.
Celeste looked at him then, finally, eyes meeting his. "Okay," she said, soft and a little breathless.
A moment lingered between them. Damien coughed once, breaking the silence. "We should head up."
"Yeah," she said, opening the car door and stepping out into the soft daylight. She took a breath. Whatever was building up in her mind and chest, she pushed it away, just like always.
The elevator ride up was quiet, but not cold. Tension simmered under the surface, the good kind and the bad kind. Celeste kept her eyes ahead. Damien stole a glance once or twice, the scent of her still clinging to his shirt.
They parted ways at her floor. She offered a soft smile before heading off to her office, and Damien found himself hesitating as he walked further down the corridor.
Why was it so hard to walk away now?
Inside her office, Celeste shut the door and leaned back against it.
Okay, breathe.
She had slept on his shoulder. Slept.
And he didn't pull away. He didn't even seem annoyed.
What the hell was she doing? What were they doing?
No, it was just a nap. A friendly shoulder. No lines were crossed.
Still… her heartbeat refused to calm.
Celeste turned to her desk, finding a few files stacked up already. Back to work, back to control. That was what she needed. Not… whatever the hell that moment was.
Back in Damien's office, he sat behind his desk, fingers laced in front of him. His thoughts were scattered, tugged in different directions—one more dangerous than the other.
He wasn't supposed to feel this way.
He was supposed to be distant, professional, unshakable.
Celeste Moreau made it hard to be any of those things.
Not because she flirted with him. She didn't.
Not because she tried too hard. She didn't.
It was because she didn't try at all—and still, he couldn't stop being drawn to her.
Worse? She didn't even know how much of an impact she had on him. And that made it all the more irresistible.
A knock at the door broke his spiral.
"Come in," Damien said, trying to push the thoughts away.
It was Lucien, phone still in hand, grinning like the nosy devil he was.
"Saw her asleep on your shoulder. Cute," he teased.
Damien's glare was immediate. "Watch it."
Lucien just chuckled. "I didn't say anything. Yet. But hey, I got word from the Vallois account. They're impressed. And also? The president of the company mentioned he hasn't seen someone like Celeste in decades."
"Of course he did," Damien muttered, suddenly not liking that comment at all.
Lucien smirked knowingly. "Feeling territorial, boss?"
Damien leaned back in his chair. "Get out."
Lucien laughed all the way out the door.
A news came in the form of an enthusiastic knock on her office door.
"Celeste!" Tara, one of her junior analysts, poked her head in, barely containing her excitement. "Guess what? Boss just said the whole finance team is going out for dinner tonight. He said it's a celebration for the deal you helped close!"
Celeste blinked. "He did?"
Tara nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah! Word's already spread. Everyone's thrilled. I think we're going to the rooftop place on Avenue Montreux."
Celeste sat back, absorbing that. Damien Moreau—the same man who barely cracked a smile in the office—was treating the whole department to dinner. Because of her?
Despite everything—the emotions, the questions, and the complications—a flutter of warmth bubbled up inside her. It felt… good. To be acknowledged. To be celebrated.
"You coming, right?" Tara asked, stepping in.
Celeste glanced at the wall clock. 5:04 PM. "Yeah. Of course. I just need a few minutes."
As soon as Tara left, Celeste stood and walked to the full-length mirror behind her door. Her reflection stared back: hair a little tousled from the long day, lipstick faint, eyeliner slightly smudged. Her outfit was professional but nothing fancy.
She tilted her head. Tonight wasn't just any other dinner. It was the kind of event that came with stares, glances, and questions. Especially if Damien was the host.
She wasn't dressing up for him.
She was dressing up for herself.
But if he noticed? Well, she wouldn't exactly complain.
Fifteen minutes later, Celeste emerged from her office with her hair neatened into soft waves, a quick dash of highlighter across her cheekbones, mascara refreshed, and a change into a chic emerald blouse that brought out the golden flecks in her eyes. She didn't go overboard. Just enough to feel confident. Effortlessly elegant.
The lobby buzzed with energy as the team gathered near the entrance. Celeste caught glimpses of surprised expressions as she walked up. Compliments floated in the air.
"You look amazing, Celeste," someone said.
She smiled and thanked them, but her eyes instinctively searched for one face.
Damien.
He appeared moments later, dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up just slightly and dark trousers. Simple, clean. Devastating.
Their eyes met. His gaze briefly traveled over her before he gave a polite nod, lips pressing into something almost like a smile.
"Ready to go?" he asked the group.
Cheers and laughter echoed as everyone headed out. The company had booked a van and a few cars. Celeste ended up in one of the smaller vehicles with Damien, Lucien, and two other employees.
The ride was short, but her heart raced the entire time.
The restaurant was everything Tara had described—warm lights, a view of the city skyline, fairy lights twinkling above. The rooftop setting was intimate yet lively.
Tables were reserved in the back, where the view stretched across Paris. Wine flowed. Orders were placed. Conversations sparked.
Celeste sat across from Damien at the long table. For the most part, he interacted with the team, asking questions, offering a surprisingly warm toast in her name, and even laughing when Lucien made a sly joke about someone accidentally emailing the wrong spreadsheet to a client.
But his eyes kept finding hers.
And every time they did, her pulse responded like a live wire.
When dessert was served, the air had lightened. The team was more relaxed than she had ever seen them. Even Damien had settled into a version of himself that seemed less weighed down by the world.
Someone pulled Celeste aside to the bar for a quick drink, and when she returned, Damien was there, talking to a junior executive. She noticed how his body shifted subtly as she approached, as if registering her presence.
"Thank you," she said, softly.
He looked down at her. "For what?"
"The dinner. The gesture."
Damien studied her for a beat too long. "You earned it."
The simplicity of his words sent warmth blooming in her chest.
"Well, I'm glad you think so," she said, holding his gaze. "I wasn't sure if you'd show up after Lucien made that comment about the Vallois boss calling me dazzling."
Damien chuckled under his breath. "Lucien says a lot of things."
"Hmm. You didn't look thrilled, though."
"I wasn't thrilled that someone who wanted to do business with us focused more on you than the deal," he admitted, taking a sip of his whiskey.
"That sounds a lot like jealousy."
He looked away briefly, then back at her. "Does it?"
Celeste smiled. "It does."
Before he could respond, Lucien cut in, demanding Damien join a round of trivia with a few employees. Damien gave her a look that said, this conversation isn't over, before following Lucien reluctantly.
Celeste leaned against the wall, heart thudding. She hadn't expected the night to turn into this tangled mess of flirtation, implication, and unspoken words. But it had. And part of her didn't want to untangle it.
Not yet.
By the time the dinner wound down, it was past 11. The team slowly dispersed, calling cabs, sharing Ubers, hugging each other goodbye.
Damien lingered, speaking briefly with the restaurant manager.
Celeste found herself alone on the terrace for a moment, the city stretching out in front of her. Cool breeze against her skin, the buzz of wine still in her system.
"You're not bad at this," Damien said, stepping beside her.
She smiled. "What, eating dessert?"
"People. This. You."
She tilted her head to look at him. "And here I thought you were the emotionally unavailable boss type."
"I am," he said quietly. "Usually."
They stood there, the silence between them heavy with possibility.
Then he added, almost to himself, "You complicate things, Celeste."
She exhaled, almost laughing. "And yet here we are."
His eyes dropped to her lips for a second.
But nothing more was said.
Lucien reappeared just then, clearing his throat. "Car's ready. Unless you two plan on staying all night."
They left.
And Celeste didn't dare look back.
M