Chapter Thirty-Six – Cullen
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CULLEN
“ C lifton took a meeting with Powers.”
I groan at the first sentence Alonso has spoken to me in over two weeks.
“How do you know?”
“I overheard Varsh on the phone this morning, congratulating him while we were at the open house.”
“Fucking hell.”
Today had been going great. I closed another deal on a new commercial storefront on Fifth Ave.
and am currently sitting at a restaurant, waiting for Verity to join me for her lunch break.
I got us a reservation at Gaetan, an upscale French bistro a stop away from her office.
They are normally booked over a month in advance, but Sonny is friends with the head patissier and got us to the top of the waitlist. The news of one of our rivals swooping in for the deal I’ve been trying to win is a sour note.
“Did you hear anything else?”
“No. He caught me after that. Gave me a smug look and then dipped outside.”
I let out a weary sigh. I don’t understand why this listing is so damn hard for me to score.
It should be a walk in the park. Since moving back to the city, my name has been on the top of everyone’s lists—except Clifton’s; he is still remaining loyal to the guys at Vanguard.
At this point, I want the deal out of spite.
The mere fact that they are playing hard to get is the only motivation I need.
The more things seem to fall from my grasp, the harder I work to hold onto them.
“Look, I hate to ask for a favor, but do you think you could do some digging for me?”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Why?” I ask cautiously.
“Because I have a favor, too. You know that penthouse on Sixty-first?”
“Yeah.”
“I need a buyer. Think you can tap into that network of yours?”
“Sure. I’ll see what I can—”
“Cullen.” A sharp and dreadfully familiar feminine voice cuts into my phone call.
I avert my gaze from the window view I’d been admiring, landing on an utter eyesore.
“Al, I’ve got to go. I’ll text you later.” I hang up on my business partner and cross my arms. “Celine, what are you doing here?”
My ex pulls out the chair opposite me and takes a seat like she has every right to be here. She even picks up the glass of ice water, taking a small sip.
“Celine.”
“I thought my lawyer told you I wanted to meet.”
“And I thought I told your lawyer that I didn’t want to.”
“You want me to sign those new papers, don’t you?”
“You have to sign them, whether I meet with you or not. That was our agreement.”
“Our agreement never stated a specific date by which I have to do that.”
Those fucking loopholes in that damn agreement. They are the whole reason why Halston calls me an idiot once a month and why I am still not free of this harpy.
Celine crosses her legs, picking up the menu.
“You want me to sign them, you’ll listen to what I have to say.”
“How did you even know I was here?”
“You think you’re the only person with connections in this city? News flash, Cullen, I’ve come quite a long way since we separated.”
“Yes, you’ve achieved everything you set out to do. Congratulations.”
Her gaze cuts me like glass.
“No thanks to you.”
Talking with Celine is like playing a playlist on repeat that only has one song. It is the same shit, every single time, and eventually you get so sick of the words you just want to burn your ears off rather than hear the lyrics again.
“Hi, welcome to Gaetan. I’m Lisa, your server. Can I get either of you something to drink to start?” Our server smiles at us, unable to read the tension.
“No, thank you, we’re—”
“I’ll have a glass of the 1987 Chateau Margaux Pavillon Rouge.” Celine hands the woman back the wine list, completely ignoring me.
“Wonderful. Would you like to hear our specials for lunch?”
“Of course.”
I tune the conversation out, my gaze homing in on the blonde bombshell who has just walked in the front door.
Fuck.
Verity.
I try not to raise any alarm bells, subtly unlocking my phone and pulling up her contact. I’d been so thrown off by Celine that I completely forgot why I am here in the first place.
I send a slew of texts to Verity, each one a different iteration of the same thing.
ME: STOP
ME: DON’T
ME: CELINE
ME: LEAVE
ME: NOW
I keep sending texts, hoping that she will feel the vibration because she always has her phone on silent, which is a detriment to my current situation.
Verity chats with the hostess, the smile on her face absolutely breathtaking.
I don’t understand how the entire restaurant hasn’t immediately noticed her walk in.
A woman like her shines like a star in the dark night sky.
I let out a groan, mourning the loss of the date I’ve been looking forward to.
“What? I thought you loved sea bass?”
My gaze bullets back to Celine and the server.
Fuck.
“I had food poisoning recently, bad fish.”
It’s a shit, last-minute excuse.
Celine can smell the lie, her eyes narrowing from practice. That is the unfortunate part of being in a relationship with someone for over a decade; there will always be a sliver of them that will recognize your soul.
“The amuse-bouche is supposed to be amazing here. Why don’t we start with that?” I give her a nonchalant shrug, trying to throw her off the scent.
It doesn’t quite quell her curiosity, but it staves it off enough that she turns back to the server and places the order, along with the restaurant’s signature egg toast with caviar.
She appears to be determined to make a dent in my wallet this afternoon.
I check in with the host stand, panic clogging my throat as I watch the hostess grab a menu and begin to walk Verity over.
It’s only then that my girlfriend checks her phone, feet slowing and brows furrowing as she scrolls. I have no doubt that my texts seem incoherent, but at least they’re giving her pause.
She stops in her tracks, baby blues bouncing around the restaurant until they land on me. She gives me a confused look, wiggling her phone in the air as if to say, “ What’s this about? ”
I try to subtly indicate to Celine with my eyes, while also keeping track of the conversation so Celine doesn’t realize what I’m doing.
Fuck, this is a mess.
Verity finally notices the woman in the seat before me, her skin turning white as snow. I can feel the immediate panic radiating from her body.
Celine must notice something as well, because she turns her head.
Verity drops to the ground, lips pulling in a grimace, and she miraculously throws herself behind a table of four businessmen.
“What are you looking at?”
“I thought I noticed a client.”
“Oh?” She doubles down, giving the room a proper perusal.
“Wasn’t them.”
It takes another few seconds before she is satisfied with her analysis. Her brows pull together as much as the Botox will allow, eyes narrowing with slight judgement as she returns her focus to me.
“You’re acting strangely.”
“Well, how do you want me to act, Celine? You’re the one interrupting my lunch.”
“You should be grateful that I’m being civil after you invaded my space first, turning up at the Kelton event.
I could’ve stormed in here and kicked up a fuss, could’ve shown up at that new little apartment you bought or even attended one of those open houses and torn down your pristine reputation. ”
“I don’t do open houses. Guess you’re not as up to date as you like to think.”
“It was just an example, you ass.”
“What do you want, Celine?”
“Where should I start? I have a laundry list of grievances that you never bothered hearing out.”
I am going to strangle the woman.
“I’m not playing games with you. Get to your point or get out.”
My stern tone is the wrong choice. It flips a switch inside her, turning those eyes into bottomless black holes of hatred. I inwardly curse, the knowledge that this conversation is about to get ten times worse is undeniable.
“I’m trying to keep up appearances in public, but the fact that I am breathing the same air as you is like sucking poison into my lungs. Your very presence kills me, Cullen. I never wanted you back in this city, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You just had to return.”
“I never wanted to leave in the first place.”
I would like to think that I’ve built up a tolerance to her maliciousness over the years, but I haven’t.
As much as I try to grow thick skin against Celine, she manages to slice right through.
I loved her once, loved the innocent person she used to be, and that has made me forever vulnerable to her attacks.
“I want you gone again. Only then will I sign the papers.”
Not this again.
“You can’t make that stipulation; there’s nothing for you to stand on. You’re wasting your time.”
“Are you saying it doesn’t bother you? That you wake up every day knowing that I’m walking these same streets, and it doesn’t drive you mad?”
“No, because I don’t even think about you, Celine. Your very existence is nothing to me anymore.”
“And that is why I hate you. You stopped loving me, stopped giving a damn about me, way before we ended things. All you ever cared about was yourself and your career. What I wanted meant nothing. Even now, you can’t afford me this one thing.”
“Fucking hell, Celine. I never said I wasn’t at fault.
I owned that years ago. How many more times do you need to hear me say that I also fucked up?
” My patience is starting to snap, and it’s an effort to keep my voice under control.
“Because might I remind you that I’m not the one who put the final nail in the coffin. That was all you.”
“How dare you bring that up.”
“Are you serious? You’re the one who started all this.”
“I’m not signing those papers.”
“You have to.”
“Actually, I don’t. The Brinks have been working overtime, poking holes at the wording of our agreement until it became a sinking ship at the bottom of the ocean.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean our agreement never explicitly said that I would physically sign anything.”
“You can’t be serious.”
They are grasping at straws. Halston mentioned that this could happen, that it would likely be their final trump card, but that I shouldn’t worry because there is no way it’d hold up in court if it comes to that.
I shouldn’t be so surprised that he was right, but I am.
Part of me really believed that Celine would cool down eventually, that she wouldn’t hold onto her hatred.
It seems that the years we spent apart only caused her emotions to fester.
Any small hope I’ve ever had dies.
“If you won’t leave me alone, I’ll keep you shackled to me forever. I’ll make you suffer for eternity, take away any attempt at happiness you might try to find—because you broke my heart, making it so I can never love again.”
“I thought you came here to negotiate with me, but you’ve done nothing but make childish demands. You’re the one who refuses to change, Celine. You’re the one who refuses to mend your heart. That’s on you.”
“No, it’s your fault.”
“If that’s what you believe, then I pity you.”
“I will never sign those documents,” she snarls.
“Then I’ll take you to court.”
A shock of pain splashes over her features at my harsh truth.
Lisa picks that exact moment to come back with the red wine and amuse-bouche. Celine snatches the wine, tossing it at me. The acidic liquid seeps into my shirt, staining the fabric.
“Go die in a hole.”
She stalks out of the restaurant without a second glance. An awkward murmur crackles among the remaining patrons, a few of them sneaking glances at my sorry state. I grab the napkin off my lap and wipe my face free of the two-hundred-dollar liquid.
My emotional reserves are depleted, but I grab my phone to call Halston. He needs to know what happened.
I stop when I see a bunch of texts from Verity.
VERITY: omg celine?!!!!
VERITY: I snuck back out
VERITY: I don’t think she saw me??
VERITY: why was she even there?
VERITY: does she know??
VERITY: Cullen???
VERITY: ahhh *melty emoji face*
VERITY: txt me when u can pls
The texts are a good sign; they mean she didn’t run away, that the sight of Celine didn’t scare her back into her shell.
But I can’t stop this feeling that everything is a ticking time bomb and that it will go off when I least expect it, the shrapnel of my secret killing everything I hold dear.