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It’sher.
For the first time in four fucking years, I’m face-to-face with Celeste Margaux.
And time stands perfectly still.
I’ve thought of this moment. I’ve envisioned it in my head a thousand different ways. In some of those scenarios, I hurl her away, or snarl in her face for stabbing me through the heart from behind. In other versions, I grab her, never let her go, and crush my lips to hers until all she knows is my mouth.
My pain.
My vengeance, in carnal form.
But now that we’re actually here, standing right in front of each other? Now that I’ve got her in my hands, literally, for the first time infour fucking years?
I don’t know if I should choke her or kiss her.
Time stops around us. My steel-blue eyes stab into her swirling emeralds. My lips curl, still unsure if I’m going to sneer, or slam them against hers.
“You…”
“Adrian.” Her voice breaks, croaking as her eyes widen in fear. Her fingers grip my soaking wet dress shirt tightly, clinging to me desperately like I’m a life raft in a stormy sea.
“What thefuckare you doing—”
“I need your help.”
She swallows, her face pale and her eyes impossibly wide as she holds onto me.
“Someone’s trying to kill me, and I need your help.”
