The Rescue
Celeste was definitely drunk.
The warmth of the tequila buzzed through her veins, making the room feel like it was spinning—but in a fun way. She laughed at something Josh the bartender said, though she had no idea what it was.
Mia had left for the bathroom a few minutes ago, leaving Celeste alone at the bar.
That's when he approached.
"Celeste Sinclair, right?"
She turned, her vision slightly hazy, but she managed to focus on the man in front of her. He was tall, sharp-featured, and wearing an expensive-looking watch that screamed old money.
She squinted. "Uh... do I know you?"
The man chuckled, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Not personally. But everyone knows Adrian Sinclair's wife. Or should I say... soon-to-be ex-wife?"
Celeste stiffened. "And you are?"
"Nathan Cross." He extended his hand, but she ignored it. He smirked. "I deal with luxury real estate. You've probably heard of me."
She hadn't.
Nathan's smirk widened when she didn't respond. "Saw your little announcement earlier. Brave of you."
Celeste rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. If you're here to ask for a free drink, the party's over."
"Oh, I don't need free drinks." He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. "I'm more interested in you."
A red flag shot up in her mind. She took a step back. "Not interested."
Nathan tilted his head. "Come on, now. You can't expect to declare yourself single in a bar and not get attention."
Celeste's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "I'm still married."
He scoffed. "Didn't look like it. No wedding ring. No husband in sight."
She clenched her jaw. "He wouldn't like you messing with me."
Nathan chuckled. "Sweetheart, your husband let you come here alone, get drunk, and announce your singlehood to an entire bar. I don't think he cares."
Celeste's skin crawled as Nathan reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her shoulder. She flinched, stepping back.
"Don't touch me."
His eyes darkened. "Playing hard to get, huh?"
She swallowed hard. The people around them noticed, but no one intervened. Nathan Cross was powerful, and people weren't eager to get on his bad side.
"I said—" she took another step back, her voice sharper, "—you don't want to start a fight with my husband, Adrian Sinclair."
Nathan's lips curled into an amused smile. "Your husband isn't here, princess."
Celeste opened her mouth to argue—
Then a fist collided with Nathan's face.
The force sent him stumbling backward, crashing into the bar. Glass shattered. People gasped.
And standing there, hand clenched, jaw tight, was Adrian Sinclair.
His gray eyes burned. His usual calm, cold demeanor? Gone. In its place was pure, undiluted rage.
"She's not your problem," Nathan spat, wiping the blood from his lip.
Adrian's voice was low, lethal. "She's my wife."
Nathan scoffed. "She said she was single."
Adrian's fists tightened. "Say that again, and you'll need more than an ice pack."
Celeste's heart pounded. The protectiveness in Adrian's voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Before Nathan could respond, Adrian turned to Celeste. His eyes softened slightly—but his anger was still there, simmering just below the surface.
"You're drunk," he muttered.
Celeste blinked. "You just punched a guy."
He ignored that. "We're leaving."
Mia, returning from the bathroom, gasped. "Oh my God. Did I miss a fight?!" She rushed to Celeste's side. "Are you okay?"
Celeste nodded quickly. "I'm fine."
Mia turned to Adrian with a glare. "Okay, Mr. Caveman, you had your hero moment. Now, back off."
But before she could do anything, Adrian flicked his gaze to Ethan—his best friend, his enforcer without words.
Ethan immediately stepped in, smoothly grabbing Mia's arm. "Alright, Mia, how about another drink? On me."
Mia looked outraged. "Excuse me—"
Ethan shot her an easy smile, but his grip was firm as he started leading her away. "Trust me, you don't wanna get in the middle of this."
Mia tried to protest, but Ethan was relentless. "Ugh! Sinclair, if you hurt her, I swear—!"
And just like that, Mia was handled.
Celeste barely had time to react before Adrian did the unthinkable.
He lifted her into his arms.
A full-on bridal carry.
Gasps. Whispers. Someone even whistled.
Celeste's face burned. "A-Adrian! Put me down!"
His grip tightened. "Not a chance."
She squirmed, pushing at his chest, but he was solid. Strong. And ridiculously warm.
"You're being ridiculous!" she hissed.
"And you're drunk," he countered, effortlessly carrying her through the crowd.
"That's not the point!"
He didn't respond, didn't waver. He carried her out of the bar, into the cool night air, the city buzzing around them.
Despite herself—despite everything—her heart was racing.
Not from fear.
Not from anger.
But from the way Adrian Sinclair was holding her.
As if he was never going to let her go.
But he would.
Because she would make sure of it.