Chapter 7 Burried Truths
Nick Malone
Nick’s presence in Celeste’s penthouse had become so ingrained it was hard to remember a time he hadn’t been there.
What started as overnight precautionary measures had turned into something more—something neither of them had fully acknowledged but both had silently accepted.
Weeks stretched into months, his clothes finding permanent space in her walk-in closet, his razor and toothbrush lining up neatly beside hers in the bathroom.
They’d settled into a rhythm, a domesticity that felt strangely natural despite the ever-present threat looming over Celeste.
Morning coffees shared in comfortable silence.
Late-night conversations sprawled across her couch.
The occasional flare of passion that left them both breathless.
They’d built something within the glass and steel walls of her penthouse—a fragile sanctuary he’d die to protect.
Nick watched Celeste from across the kitchen, his instincts on high alert.
She was pale, her usual sharpness dulled at the edges, and even as she poured herself a cup of coffee, she barely took a sip before setting it down with a faint grimace.
That was the third time this morning he’d seen her do that—reach for caffeine like it was second nature, only to hesitate, like the thought of drinking it turned her stomach.
Something wasn’t right.
She moved sluggishly around the room, her usual effortless grace muted by an uncharacteristic heaviness in her limbs.
He didn’t say anything—yet—but his cop instincts were screaming that something was off.
Celeste Bellerose didn’t get rattled easily, but ever since leaving Juliette’s penthouse last night, she’d been… different.
More than exhaustion. More than stress.
Nick folded his arms, leaning against the counter. “You gonna drink that or just stare at it?”
Celeste glanced up, blinking like she’d forgotten he was there. “Huh?”
He nodded toward her untouched cup.
“Oh.” She forced a half-smile and lifted it again, but after a small sip, she set it back down, pushing it away. “I’m just—off today.”
Nick narrowed his eyes. “Not like you to go easy on the caffeine.”
Celeste shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. “Guess I just don’t have the stomach for it right now.”
There it was again—that slight hesitation.
The way she rubbed her temples as if fighting off a headache, pressing her fingertips into the delicate skin as if trying to ward off a deeper pain.
The way she exhaled slowly, her breath uneven, like even the act of staying upright took more effort than it should.
Her skin, normally luminous even without makeup, had a faint pallor beneath its usual warmth, and there was a barely-there tremor in her fingers when she reached for her cup.
She had been through hell these past few days, but this wasn’t just exhaustion or stress.
This was something else—something gnawing at her from the inside out.
And Nick didn’t like it. Not one damn bit.
Before he could press further, his phone vibrated against the counter. He grabbed it, eyes flicking over the caller ID before answering. “Graham.”
“We’ve got a problem.”
Nick’s body went rigid. “Tell me.”
“The security sweep we did at the penthouse last night. We missed something.”
Celeste straightened. “What do you mean ‘missed something’?”
Graham’s voice was tight. “I mean whoever’s been inside didn’t just leave roses this time. We found a listening device. Hidden in the vent near the living room.”
Nick’s stomach turned to stone. His grip on the phone tightened. “How long has it been there?”
“No way to tell for sure, but judging by the dust disturbance around the vent, I’d say it’s recent. And that’s not all.”
Nick braced himself. “What else?”
Graham hesitated. “We ran a deeper scan through Celeste’s security feeds. There’s a gap.”
Nick’s blood ran cold. “What kind of gap?”
“Roughly two hours missing from last night’s recordings. Right around the time you two were at Juliette’s place.”
That wasn’t a coincidence. Someone had wiped the footage, covering their tracks.
Celeste crossed her arms. “So, what? Someone was watching us? Listening to us? And now they know exactly what we’re doing?”
Nick exhaled slowly, his mind working at a rapid-fire pace. “They’re not just watching. They’re anticipating. That means we have a leak—someone feeding them information.”
Nick’s first move was to find that bug and destroy it immediately. Removing the vent was easy.
“There you are.” Nick spoke into the small microphone, his tone deep. “I’ll find you and when I do you will regret ever stepping into this place.” The listening devise hit the marble floor, Nick smashed it to pieces with the heel of his shoe.
Celeste’s lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening against her arms. “You think it’s Juliette?”
Nick hesitated. “I don’t know. But if it’s not her, it’s someone close enough to manipulate your security.”
Celeste’s nails dug into her skin. “That’s not exactly a short list.”
“No, it’s not.”
The room fell into a heavy silence. Celeste turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city. Nick could see the tension rolling through her shoulders. He wanted to tell her they’d get ahead of this, that they’d stop it before it escalated further—but they both knew better.
Whoever was doing this was always a step ahead.
Nick ran a hand down his face. “We need to switch things up. No more predictable patterns. If they think they know our moves, we make sure they’re wrong.”
Celeste turned, eyes flashing. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m tightening security. And you’re not going anywhere without me.”
She scoffed. “So, what, you’re my shadow now?”
Nick met her gaze, unflinching. “You got a problem with that?”
For a second, she looked like she wanted to argue. But then she did something unexpected—she exhaled, dropping her arms, her expression unreadable. “No. I don’t.”
That threw him off more than if she had fought him on it. But before he could analyze it, his phone buzzed again.
This time, it was a text. From an unknown number.
Nick swiped to open it, his stomach knotting as he read the message:
“Nice try, Copper. But you’ll never be fast enough.”
His pulse pounded.
Attached to the message was a new photo.
Nick and Celeste, taken that morning.
Through the penthouse window.
Celeste stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “Nick. What is it?”
He turned the phone, showing her the screen.
Celeste’s breath hitched. The color drained from her face.
Nick’s fingers curled into fists. His blood ran hot, his entire body coiled tight with barely restrained fury. The message wasn’t just a taunt—it was a warning.
Celeste paced the length of the penthouse, arms crossed, her usual stand when she’s feeling vulnerable.
Nick had barely spoken since the photo. Instead, he’d been on the phone with Graham, barking orders, making calls, adjusting security.
He moved like a man at war—controlled, methodical, locked down.
And she hated it.
Nick had always been intense, but this? This was different. He wasn’t just treating her like a case anymore. He was treating her like his case, his sole responsibility. And that scared her more than the damn stalker did.
Because if Nick Malone—proud, stubborn, self-reliant Nick—was reacting like this, then the situation was worse than she thought.
She exhaled sharply. “You don’t have to play the silent, brooding protector, you know.”
Nick didn’t even glance up from his laptop. “I’m working.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I can see that. What I don’t see is you telling me what the hell is going on.”
Nick sighed, finally looking up. His jaw was tight. Too tight. “We’re changing locations.”
Celeste stilled. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He shut his laptop, his voice low, even. “Your penthouse isn’t secure anymore. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she folded her arms. “And where exactly is this ‘somewhere safe’?”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “My place.”
Celeste blinked. Of all the things she expected, that wasn’t it. “You… want me to stay with you?”
Nick ran a hand down his face. “It’s not a suggestion it’s an order.”
Celeste let out a short laugh. “Oh, well, when you put it like that, how could I possibly say no?”
Nick shot her a sharp look. “I’m not in the mood for arguments, Celeste.”
“Well, too damn bad.” She strode closer, fire flashing in her eyes. “You don’t just get to make decisions for me. I’m not some—some possession you can relocate on a whim.”
Nick’s patience snapped. He was across the room in two strides, towering over her, his voice low and firm.
“You think this is about control? About me dictating your life? Jesus, Celeste, open your eyes. Someone is watching your every move. And now, they’re letting us know just how close they really are.
So yeah, I’m making this call, whether you like it or not. ”
She swallowed hard, but she didn’t back down. “I get that you’re pissed—”
“You don’t get anything.” Nick’s voice dropped into something darker, rawer. “Do you have any idea how easy it would’ve been for that son of a bitch to walk in here while we were asleep? To stand in this goddamn apartment and watching your every move?”
Her stomach twisted. “Nick—”
“I know exactly how this goes,” he cut in, eyes blazing. “I’ve seen it before. The escalation. The sick satisfaction they get from proving how close they can get before they strike. And I will not—” his voice hardened, “—let that happen to you.”
Celeste sucked in a breath, because it wasn’t just fury in his voice. It was something deeper.
She studied him, the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists like he was holding back from punching something. She had known Nick was protective, but this? This was personal.
Her voice softened. “Nick… has this happened before?”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then, quietly— “Yeah.”
Celeste’s chest tightened. “Tell me.”
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Not now.”
“Nick.”
He looked away. “It was a long time ago.”
Her stomach knotted. She knew that look. That edge in his voice. “It didn’t end well, did it?”
His silence was her answer.
A realization settled between them. This isn’t just about me.
Celeste ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t want to feel like I’m running.”
Nick met her gaze, steady, unwavering. “You’re not running. You’re regrouping. And you’re doing it with me.”
She swallowed hard. “This isn’t how I do things.”
Nick’s lips quirked, just barely. “Yeah? Well, guess what, princess? It’s how we’re doing them now.”
Celeste exhaled sharply. “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
Nick smirked. “Not when your life’s on the line. Now go pack.”
Celeste studied him, her heart pounding. The control she’d held onto for so long was slipping. And for the first time in a long time… she didn’t mind it.
She didn’t want to be alone anymore.
She squared her shoulders. “Fine. But just so we’re clear—this is temporary.”
Nick’s eyes darkened. “Sure, Celeste.”
But they both knew better.