Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 551

DOMINIC

The estate sprawled before me like something out of a dream, all cream stone and arched windows and gardens that rolled into the distance like green silk thrown across the earth. I stood at the top of the stairs, at the center of the grand entrance, my hands clasped loosely behind my back, and I watched the iron gates like a man waiting for his reason to breathe.

The cameras were already in position. Dozens of them, mounted on rigs and held by professionals who had been vetted three times over. The feed was live. Every network that mattered had picked it up, and the ones that did not matter had found a way in anyway. Across the country, across the world, people were watching. But I did not see any of them. I saw only the road beyond the gates, the curve where the limousine would appear, and the woman who would step out of it.

The guests had been arriving for the better part of an hour. The cream of society, the names that opened doors and balanced ledgers, had filed past me one by one, offering congratulations and shaking my hand, and I had smiled at every single one of them without retaining a single face.

I had bought this estate not too long ago, and I had spent time making sure Celeste would fall in love with it at first glance. The ballroom where I would propose could hold three hundred guests standing. The gardens had been strung with fairy lights that would glow like captured stars once the sun finished setting. The fountains had been cleaned, the hedges trimmed, the floors polished until they reflected the chandeliers like still water.

And none of it meant anything without her in it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw Celeste's name on the screen, and the tight coil of anticipation in my chest loosened just enough to let me breathe.

"Good evening once again, my love," I said, keeping my voice low so the nearest guests would not overhear. "I was almost afraid you'd changed your mind."

"Never," she said, and even through the speaker her voice smoothed the edges off my nerves. "But I need a favor."

"Anything."

She hesitated. Just a breath, just long enough for me to notice. "I do not want Sparrow's wife at our engagement party."

I blinked. "Tasha?"

"Yes. I don't want her here, Dominic. Please do not ask me to explain right now. I just need you to trust me on this."

I did not hesitate. "Consider it done."

"Thank you, dear. I will see you soon."

The line went dead, and I slipped the phone back into my pocket. I did not ask questions. I did not need to. Whatever Celeste's reasons were, they were good enough for me.

I turned my attention back to the gates. The evening air was warm against my face, carrying the scent of jasmine from the gardens, and the last light of the sun had begun to bleed gold across the horizon. The guests inside had settled, their voices rising and falling in the pleasant hum of a gathering that had not yet reached its peak. The orchestra had finished tuning. The champagne had been poured. Everything was ready.

And finally, I saw it. The limousine, sleek and polished, rounding the curve and gliding toward the gates. The iron barriers swung open, and the car rolled through slowly, stately, like a ship coming into port.

I descended the stairs. One step at a time, my heart hammering against my ribs, my eyes fixed on the tinted windows that hid her from me. The limousine came to a stop at the bottom of the staircase. The driver stepped out, walked around, and opened the rear door.

And Celeste stepped out.

The world stopped. Not figuratively, not poetically. The world stopped. The sound of the guests inside faded. The cameras, the lights, the live feed, all of it dissolved into static, because none of it mattered next to her.

She was wearing green. A gown of deep emerald silk that caught the dying sunlight and threw it back in rivers of liquid color. The bodice hugged her like it had been painted onto her skin, and the skirt pooled around her feet before lifting and falling with the smallest movement, rippling like water disturbed by a stone. Her hair had been swept up in something elegant and effortless, and her face, her beautiful face, was turned up toward me with a smile that made my chest ache.