9. Celina
NINE
CELINA
Celina surfaced from sleep like a woman emerging from deep water, consciousness returning in slow, luxurious waves.
The first thing she registered was warmth—not the artificial heat of climate control, but the solid, living warmth of arms wrapped around her waist. Osias’s chest rose and fell against her back in the steady rhythm of sleep, and his breath was hot against her neck.
For a heartbeat, panic flickered through her. She’d slept with a man she’d met twenty-four hours ago. She’d thrown caution aside with a recklessness that would have sent Rennick into cardiac arrest if he’d known. Every rational thought screamed that this was too much, too fast, too—
But then Osias moved slightly, his arm tightening possessively around her, and that familiar electricity sparked along her nerve endings. The rightness of it hit her like a physical force. This didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like coming home to a place she hadn’t known she was searching for.
Fast doesn’t matter when it’s right.
His words from last night echoed in her memory, and she found herself smiling into the morning light filtering through his bedroom windows.
Everything about being with him felt inevitable, as if the universe had been orchestrating this moment for thirty-four years and she’d finally stopped fighting the current.
The mate bond.
Even without the completion he’d described—the mark that would open their connection fully—she could sense something profound settling between them.
A recognition that went deeper than attraction, deeper than the desperate hunger that had consumed them last night.
She didn’t need to feel his emotions to know this mattered.
She’d known it the moment their hands touched in his office.
She’d spent three decades having every decision filtered through someone else’s lens. Now, she wanted to build something that belonged to her. Not just Bates Films, but this. Whatever was blossoming between them felt like the most authentic thing she’d ever known.
Her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, jerking her from her thoughts.
The screen lit up with a cascade of notifications that made her stomach clench.
Twenty missed texts from Rennick. Three voicemails.
Five texts from Daya. Her social media apps showed triple-digit notification badges that promised a feeding frenzy she wasn’t prepared to face.
The attack. Mancini’s. The paparazzi photos that were undoubtedly already circulating. Her rebellion from Rennick’s suffocating management suddenly felt overwhelming in the harsh light of morning reality.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” Osias murmured against her neck, his voice rough with sleep. She felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin. “I can practically hear the gears turning.”
She turned in his arms, holding up her phone so he could see the chaos lighting up the screen. “This is what happens when Celina Bates steps outside the carefully managed box for five minutes.”
His blue eyes, still heavy with sleep, sharpened as he took in the notifications. “Oh, I see. That’s a problem.”
“I know.” She set the phone aside. “I told Rennick I could handle everything. The press, the attack follow-up, finding new security. But the truth is, I have absolutely no idea how to manage a crisis without him.”
She could feel his attention shift, that laser focus she’d witnessed in his office yesterday.
“Let me clear my entire schedule for the day and help you,” he said simply. “If you want that, of course.”
Celina stared at him. She knew enough about Osias Fellan to understand that his calendar was probably booked solid for the next six months. “You would clear your entire schedule for me?”
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, the gesture so tender it made her chest ache. “For you, I would do just about anything.”
His words should have concerned her. Should have triggered every alarm bell that Rennick had installed in her psyche about men who wanted to control her life. Instead, she felt safe.
“I could really use your help,” she admitted quietly. “Rennick has always handled everything, and I hate to admit it, but I don’t really know the first thing about managing an actual crisis. But I want to. I need to.”
She sat up, and the sheet pooled around her waist, baring her chest to the morning light. Osias’s gaze darkened immediately, his eyes tracking the movement with undisguised appreciation. Heat flooded her body as she watched his jaw clench with obvious restraint.
“As much as I could stay here in this bed all day with you,” she said, fighting the urge to lean back into his arms, “I really need to find new security, handle the press buzz about the attack and us, and follow up with the police.”
He sat up as well, the sheet falling away to reveal the magnificent expanse of his chest and the clear evidence of his arousal. “I’ll help you with whatever you need.”
The difference struck her immediately. Unlike Rennick’s offers of help, which always came with strings and conditions and subtle demands for gratitude, Osias’s assistance felt genuine. She could tell that he wanted her to learn how to handle her own problems, not become more dependent on him.
She stood and moved to her overnight bag, which had somehow materialized on the chair by his window.
He must have brought it up during the night while she’d slept more deeply than she had in months.
She pulled out a silk blouse and dark jeans, then spotted her white lace bra on the floor where it had been discarded in their frantic need for each other.
Fresh heat coursed through her as the memories crashed back. His mouth on her skin, the way he’d made her feel completely undone, the overwhelming rightness of him moving inside her. She grabbed fresh panties from her bag and began dressing, hyperaware of his gaze following her every movement.
When she glanced over, he was still sitting on the bed, gloriously naked and unashamed, watching her with the focused intensity of a predator. His erection hadn’t diminished, and the sight of him sent liquid heat pooling low in her belly.
“We don’t have time for that right now,” she told herself as much as him, though her voice came out breathier than intended.
His smile was pure sin. “I know. But I can still enjoy the view.”
She finished dressing and watched as he finally rose from the bed, all fluid grace and unconscious power. He moved toward his walk-in closet, and she couldn’t help but admire the play of muscles across his shoulders and back as he disappeared through the doorway.
Thirty minutes later, Celina pushed through the glass doors of Bates Films, her hand still tingling from where Osias had held it during the drive.
The modest West Hollywood office building couldn’t compete with the towering presence of Fellan Entertainment, but stepping inside felt like breathing after being underwater.
This space belonged to her—every carefully chosen piece of furniture, every framed poster from their small but meaningful catalog of films, every plant that somehow managed to thrive despite her complete inability to remember watering schedules.
Daya’s head snapped up from her computer the moment they entered, her wild curls practically vibrating with concern.
“Are you okay? I heard about the attack and texted you five times.”
Celina felt heat rise in her cheeks as she registered the way Daya’s sharp hazel eyes immediately cataloged everything—her slightly rumpled silk blouse, the satisfied glow she couldn’t quite hide, and the way Osias moved protectively behind her.
“I’m fine. I stayed at Osias’s last night and my phone was on silent.”
The words hung in the air for exactly three seconds before Daya’s expression shifted from worry to absolute delight. Her gaze ping-ponged between Celina and Osias with the precision of someone who had spent years reading between the lines of Hollywood’s carefully constructed facades.
“Oh, I see.” Daya’s smile bloomed into something that could power the building. “That certainly explains the glow this morning.”
Leave it to Daya to be completely honest with no filter.
Celina’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything about the night before.
Not the way Osias had made her feel completely seen, not the earth-shattering intimacy, not even the revelation about mate bonds and lion shifters that should have sent her running but instead made everything feel inevitable.
“We need your help. Can you field the press emails and handle my social media while Osias and I figure out new security and follow-up with the police?”
Daya’s fingers were already flying across her keyboard before Celina finished speaking. “I’ll get right on it.” She paused, confusion flickering across her expressive features. “But why isn’t Rennick handling all this like he usually does?”
The question hit like a physical weight. For thirty years, Rennick had been the answer to every crisis, the solution to every problem she didn’t know how to solve. The idea of navigating something this significant without his input would have been unthinkable yesterday.
“Because I told him I would handle everything myself.” The words felt foreign in her mouth, like speaking a language she was still learning. “He was less than pleased that I didn’t go stay with him. So I’ve decided I need to start doing things on my own.”
Daya’s smile transformed into something fierce and proud. “About damn time. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.”
Standing up for yourself.
The phrase echoed through Celina’s mind as she led Osias toward her corner office. When had such a basic concept become revolutionary? When had choosing her own path started feeling like rebellion instead of simple adulthood?