Chapter 2 Shadowy Threats
Celeste Bellerose
Celeste barely resisted the urge to rip her wrist from Nick’s grip as they stepped into the quieter section of the gala. The nerve of this man—storming in with his brooding intensity and issuing orders like she was one of his subordinates.
She was not some damsel in distress.
But the way his fingers flexed slightly around her wrist, firm but not bruising, sent an unexpected chill through her.
It wasn’t fear. It was the way his presence commanded attention, the way his dark eyes swept the space as if calculating a hundred different outcomes all at once.
Like he expected something bad to happen at any moment.
And maybe it would.
Shaking the thought off, she straightened, her chin lifting. "You can let go now, Officer Malone."
Nick hesitated, his gaze scanning the crowd behind them before finally releasing her. "Stay close."
Celeste exhaled through her nose, smoothing the front of her gown. "I’ve handled a few overzealous admirers before. This isn’t my first time at a high-profile event. Officer… Malone."
"This isn’t an admirer," Nick said flatly. "And something’s off tonight."
Celeste parted her lips to argue, but a movement across the ballroom caught her attention. Her stomach clenched.
Juliette.
Her sister was lingering near the bar, sipping from a crystal flute of champagne, her gaze locked onto Celeste with something that looked suspiciously like disdain.
Celeste swallowed hard, forcing herself to maintain an expression of easy confidence.
She hadn’t spoken to Juliette in months—hadn’t wanted to.
Their last encounter had ended with an icy dismissal and a carefully chosen insult, one of many that had festered between them since their father had made his final decision about the inheritance.
Now, here she was, hovering in the periphery like a ghost.
Nick must have sensed the shift in Celeste’s posture because his voice dipped lower. "Problem?"
"Nothing I can’t handle."
He followed her gaze, eyes narrowing. "Your sister."
"Very observant."
"She doesn’t look happy to see you."
"She never is."
Nick didn’t reply, but she could feel his scrutiny, the way he took in every detail like he was logging information for later use. It irritated her how easily he could read the tension between them, how he didn’t even have to ask to know there was history there.
Then, as if the night wasn’t going downhill fast enough, a catering server approached.
"Miss Bellerose?" The man held out a folded note, his expression carefully neutral. "This was left for you."
Celeste frowned. "Who left it?"
"Anonymous."
Her fingers hesitated before taking the slip of paper. She unfolded it slowly, her pulse kicking up a notch as her eyes scanned the words written in bold, deliberate strokes.
“Did you think I forgot about you? You look beautiful tonight. Enjoy your evening while it lasts.”
A slow prickle of dread crept up her spine. The writing was familiar. Too familiar.
Nick edged closer, reading over her shoulder. "What does it say?"
Celeste shut the note with a crisp flick of her fingers, lifting her chin. "Nothing."
Nick wasn’t buying it. "Ms. Bellerose—"
"I said it’s nothing," she snapped, slipping the note into the slit of her clutch and turning on her heel. "I need a drink."
She moved before he could protest, weaving through the crowd with an effortless grace that had been drilled into her since childhood. But inside, her thoughts spiraled. The note had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.
This wasn’t the first time she’d received a message like that.
And she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.
She made it halfway to the bar before her heart nearly stopped.
Across the room, standing near the entrance, was a man she hadn’t seen in over a year.
A man she never wanted to see again.
Her stomach twisted violently.
Nick’s words from earlier came rushing back. This isn’t an admirer.
She barely had time to think. The man turned, scanning the room, and for a split second, she knew—he was looking for her.
Celeste acted on instinct.
She pivoted, grabbing the first solid thing in her path—which just so happened to be Nick. Before he could utter a word, she fisted his jacket, pulled him down, and crushed her lips against his.
Nick went rigid, every muscle in his body coiled tight like a live wire.
She could only imagine the look on his face if she’d given him a second to process what was happening.
But there was no time for that. She pressed in, deepening the kiss, her fingers curling into the fabric of his suit as she moved against him like they were lovers stealing a moment amidst the chaos.
A distraction.
A damn good one.
She felt the exact moment Nick stopped thinking and started reacting.
His hands landed on her waist, firm and commanding, his lips parting just enough for her breath to escape.
He didn’t push her away. If anything, he pulled her closer, responding with a heat that sent a ripple of something intoxicating down her spine.
Then, just as suddenly as she’d started it, she pulled away.
Nick’s dark eyes burned into hers, confusion warring with something else—something dangerously intense.
"What the hell was that?" His voice was low, rough.
Celeste swallowed, ignoring the warmth still tingling through her body. She glanced toward the entrance.
The man was gone.
She forced a smile. "Nothing personal, Officer. Just saving myself a headache."
Nick stared at her, clearly unimpressed. "Try again."
She smoothed a hand over her dress, pretending like her pulse wasn’t hammering. "I saw someone. Someone I didn’t want seeing me."
Nick exhaled sharply. "You want to tell me who?"
"Not particularly."
"Ms. Bellerose."
She sighed, finally meeting his gaze. "He’s someone I thought I’d left in the past. Guess I was wrong."
Nick’s jaw ticked. "If he’s part of this, I need to know."
"He’s not part of anything," she insisted. "At least, I hope not."
Nick didn’t look convinced. "Hope isn’t a strategy."
Before she could answer, her clutch vibrated against her palm. She frowned, flipping it open and pulling out her phone.
One new message. No number. Just another short, terrifying line of text.
“That was quite a show. But I see everything, Celeste.”
Her breath caught. A slow, cold dread slid through her veins.
Nick must have seen the way her face changed, because his expression turned to steel. "Show me, NOW!?"
She turned the screen toward him.
The tension between them snapped tight.
Nick took the phone from her hand, his grip firm, controlled. "Looks like we just found out how close your stalker really is."
Celeste’s stomach twisted. The note was bad enough.
But this? This meant he was here.
Sabre’s ears peeked, his stance shifting as if he, too, sensed something was off.
The K-9 was trained to pick up on tension, on the subtle shifts in energy that most humans ignored.
Nick noticed it immediately. His grip on Celeste’s phone tightened as he scanned the crowd, his frustration mounting. He didn’t like surprises.
Nick hated this feeling—being a step behind, playing defense instead of offense.
The stalker had just proven he was close enough to watch their every move, bold enough to send a message the second she pulled away from Nick’s lips.
He was playing a game, taunting them. And Nick had no patience for games.
Before he could say anything, a familiar voice cut through the tension. "Well, well. That was quite the performance."
Juliette.
Celeste stiffened beside him, but when she turned, her expression was perfectly composed. "What do you want, Juliette?"
Juliette smirked, swirling the champagne in her glass before taking a slow sip. "Oh, nothing. Just admiring the way you throw yourself at men when things get inconvenient for you. Very dramatic."
Nick’s irritation spiked, but he stayed quiet, watching the interaction unfold. Celeste’s nails curled slightly against her clutch, but she didn’t take the bait. "I don’t have time for your petty accusations."
"No? Pity," Juliette mused, her gaze bouncing between Celeste and Nick with sharp curiosity. "You’ve certainly upgraded your taste in company. Though I can’t imagine Officer Malone enjoys being used like a pawn for your little… escapes."
Nick didn’t react. He just met Juliette’s gaze with an unblinking stare, letting the silence stretch until she shifted slightly, adjusting the strap of her gown. A tell. She wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be.
Juliette’s smirk faltered for only a second before she recovered. "Well, do be careful, dear sister. You do tend to attract trouble."
She walked off before Celeste could respond, her perfume lingering in the air like an afterthought.
Nick watched her go, his mind already working. "She knows more than she’s letting on."
"Juliette enjoys being in the middle of drama, but she doesn’t create it. She just thrives off the chaos." Celeste was quick to explain.
"Or she’s trying to see how rattled you are," Nick countered. "And from where I’m standing, she just got her answer."
Celeste’s lips pressed together. She hated that he was right.
Nick folded his arms, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me about him. The man you saw."
Celeste hesitated. "I told you, he’s someone I thought I’d left in the past."
"And yet he’s here now. And sending you messages." Nick’s tone was sharp, controlled. "What’s his name?"
She wet her lips, gaze turning toward the crowd, as if expecting to see him reappear. "Adrian Wolfe."
Nick processed the name like he was storing it away for later. "Ex-boyfriend?"
"No. He was…" She exhaled slowly, choosing her words carefully. "Persistent. A man who didn’t like hearing the word no. He was obsessed, and when I cut him off completely, he didn’t take it well."
"Define ‘didn’t take it well." Nick asked.
Celeste hesitated. "He left notes, followed me. Showed up at events where he had no reason to be. There was an incident once—"
"What incident?"
Her fingers tightened around her clutch. "He got into my penthouse building. Convinced the doorman he was a guest. I came home to find him waiting in my apartment."
Nick’s expression darkened, a slow, simmering rage settling behind his eyes. "Did he hurt you?"
"No." The memory still made her stomach churn. "I screamed. Security came. He was arrested, and I had a restraining order filed immediately."
Nick studied her, his silence heavy. "And now he’s back."
Celeste nodded. "It seems so."
Nick exhaled through his nose, his jaw set in a hard line. "That’s all I need to hear. We’re leaving. Now."
Celeste bristled. "I’m not running out of my own event like a scared little—"
"This isn’t about pride, Ms. Bellerose," Nick cut in. "It’s about keeping you from getting cornered again. If he found a way in before, he’ll do it again. You need to be somewhere secure."
She opened her mouth to argue, but the intensity in Nick’s gaze locked her in place.
There was something different about the way he looked at her now—not just professional obligation, not just the calculated focus of a cop doing his job.
This was deeper, sharper, a line being drawn in the sand.
He wasn’t just protecting a client. He was protecting her.
That realization settled in her chest, unfamiliar and heavy.
"Fine," she murmured, her voice quieter now. "Let’s go."
Nick nodded once and reached for his radio. "Graham, we’re moving. Now."
As he led Celeste toward the exit, Sabre stayed close to her side, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Celeste swallowed. Tonight, had been a warning.
And she had a feeling Adrian wasn’t finished yet. And she hated even more that somewhere in the depths of her gut, she couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wasn’t the last she’s seen of Adrian Wolfe.