Chapter Six: The suggestion

Celeste’s POV

I waited on the steps in front of my apartment building, arms crossed against the morning chill, staring down the cracked sidewalk like it owed me something. The sky was still a dull grey, the kind that made everything feel heavier.

The low purr of an engine cut through the quiet, too smooth, too polished—like it thought it was too good for the cracked pavement it rolled over. A sleek, black car pulled up and stopped right in front of me. It idled there, windows tinted too dark to see in—but I didn’t need to. I already knew who it was.

Still, he made no move to step out. Not even a quick honk.

A few seconds later, the driver’s side window rolled down halfway, revealing the sharp jawline and colder eyes of Leo Kingsley.

His voice, rich with sarcasm, cut through the silence. “Did you actually think I’d get out and open the door for you?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I was giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

His smirk barely touched his lips. “Keep dreaming.”

I walked over and opened the door myself, slipping into the leather-scented luxury. The interior was spotless, impersonal—much like the man behind the wheel.

For a moment, I looked over at him. He hadn’t changed much in appearance. Sharp suit, cleaner lines, that same infuriating calm. But there was something colder in his posture, like every inch of him had learned not to soften.

His gaze flicked toward me briefly. “Buckle up.”

I did.

And just when I thought he might drive off without saying anything else, he added, “You’re living in this dump?” he asked, voice dry. “I’ve seen condemned warehouses with more curb appeal.”

I smiled sweetly. “Funny. I could say the same about your personality.”

He smirked but didn’t reply. Typical.

The ride to Margaret’s estate was silent, but it wasn’t peaceful. It was taut. Like we were both holding our breath and waiting for the other to snap first.

Leo didn’t speak, didn’t glance at me. His hands gripped the steering wheel like it had personally offended him. Outside the window, the city faded into open roads, and the world began to look polished—cleaner, richer. The potholes vanished. The cars got sleeker. Even the trees looked like they belonged in curated gardens.

This wasn’t Leo’s original world. He hadn’t grown up in wealth—he’d fought, bled, clawed his way into it. And maybe that was the problem. He’d become so wrapped in power and polished suits, he didn’t know how to be human anymore.

Or maybe he did.

Maybe I was the only one who remembered what that looked like.

When the car finally curved into the long driveway of Margaret Kingsley’s estate, I couldn’t help the way my breath caught.

The mansion was nestled into the hills, elegant but not showy. Soft stone walls, sprawling windows, and the kind of landscaping that whispered money without shouting it. It wasn’t some cold billionaire’s fortress.

It felt… lived in.

Warm, even.

Leo pulled to a stop in front of the house but didn’t move to get out. He didn’t even look at me.

“I’ll give you five minutes to rehearse your lines,” he said flatly.

I raised a brow. “Oh, so now it’s a stage play?”

“You were always good at pretending.”

That one hit low, but I didn’t flinch. “And you were always good at acting like you never ever needed anyone. I guess we both stuck to our strengths.”

He opened his door and got out, slamming it harder than necessary. I followed, smoothing my jacket and forcing my heart to steady.

The front door opened before we reached it.

And there she was.

Margaret Kingsley stood tall despite the years, her silver hair swept back, her eyes warm and sharp at once. And when they landed on me, they softened into something so tender I nearly forgot how to breathe.

“Celeste,” she said, and just my name held a thousand unsaid things.

I smiled. “Hi, Margaret.

I called her Margaret because she never wanted me to call her grandma—said it made her feel old.

She stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug that smelled like roses and tea and safety. Her embrace was real, grounding. It had been ten years since I’d last seen her—and somehow, it felt like coming home.

When she pulled back, her hands cupped my face gently, like she was still seeing the girl I used to be. “You’ve grown more beautiful and those eyes… they still carry that fire. That spark.”

“I try,” I murmured, fighting the lump in my throat.

She smiled softly, her eyes lingering on me with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

Then, her gaze shifted to the side, but she didn’t look at Leo. She just nodded toward the door with a warm smile. “Come inside, darling. Lunch is ready. I made all your favorites.”

Her words cut deeper than I expected. It was a kindness I hadn’t realized I was missing.

No one had made my favorites in years.

I didn't have anyone to make them

And I didn't realize how badly I needed that.

As we followed Margaret into the house, the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little bit. The Kingsley estate was grand, yes, but it had this soft, lived-in feel to it, like the home of someone who knew how to love.

The smell of freshly baked bread and something warm and savory floated through the air, and my stomach growled at the comfort of it all. I could already smell the roasted chicken, seasoned perfectly, and the mashed potatoes—my absolute favorite. The rich, buttery scent reminded me of all the home-cooked meals I’d missed over the years, and for a second, I allowed myself to feel the loss.

Margaret led us into the dining room, where a spread of food awaited, arranged like something out of a magazine.

I sat down, across from Leo, my heart in my throat. He hadn’t spoken much since we arrived. He was like a statue, his sharp gaze trained somewhere just beyond me. It was like he had a wall built up, one that he wouldn’t let anyone—least of all me—break.

Margaret, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice the tension at all. She poured us both a glass of iced tea and passed around a basket of warm rolls.

“So, Celeste,” she said, her voice light and bright, “how has life been treating you? I imagine a lot has changed since we last saw each other.”

I forced a smile. “It’s been… interesting.”

She nodded, as if that answer was exactly what she expected. “I’m sure it’s been difficult, with everything that’s happened. But look at you now, sitting here with Leo again. I always knew you two had something special.”

I shifted in my seat, trying to find my place in a conversation that had no right being so natural. “It’s been… a while,” I said quietly, my fingers tapping on the edge of my glass.

Margaret’s gaze flickered to Leo, who was sitting so still, his jaw clenched like he was holding everything back.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat, “I’ve been thinking. I know this is all so sudden, but perhaps… it might help if you two were to live together .”

I nearly choked on my iced tea. I hadn’t been prepared for that. I glanced at Leo, who remained eerily silent, his gaze still distant.

“Live together?” I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. “But… we just—”

“It would make things easier,” Margaret interrupted gently, her hands folding in front of her. “You’ve both been through a lot, and sometimes distance can make things more complicated. If you lived together, it might help bring back what you had… or at least give it a chance to bloom.”

My breath caught in my chest. I hadn’t expected this. Not from her. Not now.

“I don’t know,” I said, glancing at Leo again. He was still looking at his plate, avoiding my gaze completely. “It’s… it’s not that simple.”

Margaret smiled softly, her eyes full of understanding. “Love rarely is, dear. But sometimes, we have to take a step forward, even if it’s scary.”

I looked down at my plate, suddenly overwhelmed. She was right. Love wasn’t simple. And it wasn’t something that could be fixed by moving in together. But part of me wanted to believe it could be that easy. That somehow, living under the same roof would bring us back to where we had been.

Leo finally looked up, his expression unreadable, but his voice was quieter than before.

“If you think it will make things easier,” he said to Margaret, “we’ll do it.”

Leo’s phone buzzed on the table, cutting through the tension. He glanced at it, his face unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing up and walking toward the other room, his phone pressed to his ear.

As soon as he was gone, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I leaned back in my chair, staring out the window at the garden outside.

Margaret placed her hand over mine, the warmth of her touch a contrast to the coldness I felt from Leo.

“You’re still the same girl, Celeste,” she said quietly. “I see it in your eyes. And I think… Leo needs someone like you. He’s been lost for a long time. But you, you’ve always had that fire. That thing he needs.”

Her words pierced me, more than I cared to admit. It was true. I had been the one who had always kept that part of him alive. And now, seeing him again, I wondered if that fire still burned inside him, or if it had been extinguished long ago.

When I spoke again, my voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can be that person for him again, Margaret. I don’t know if he even wants me to be.”

Margaret’s eyes softened, and for a moment, before she replied “He does, dear. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

Margaret’s words settled into the air, heavy and lingering I wanted to believe her, I really did. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how little Leo had changed—or how much he'd changed, depending on how you looked at it. He was still that man who could shut everything out with just a look, still the one who buried his feelings beneath layers of indifference and sharp words. And maybe, just maybe, he liked it that way.

“I don’t know,” I murmured again, my voice breaking through the tension. “He’s so… distant. So cold.

Margaret’s hand squeezed mine gently. “You’ve always been the one who could reach him, Celeste. Don’t give up on him just yet.”

I looked up at her, my eyes raw with everything I was trying to hold back. “It’s not that easy. He doesn’t want me to reach him. He doesn’t even care enough to try.”

Margaret’s expression softened. She didn’t say anything else—just kept her hand on mine, as if her silence was enough to say what she couldn’t find the words for.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, lost in my own thoughts, before Leo returned, his phone still pressed to his ear. His presence filled the room with that icy energy I had come to dread. He didn’t even look at me when he reentered, just made his way back to the table like nothing had happened.

Margaret shot me a quick, knowing look before standing up. I followed her, giving Leo space though I could feel his gaze on me from across the room.

I walked over to the door, pausing just before stepping outside onto the porch. The air had a bite to it, and I closed my eyes, letting the coolness sting my skin. I could hear the faint sound of Leo talking, his voice low and clipped, but it was distant, like it didn’t matter.

When I heard footsteps behind me, I didn’t turn around.

“Celeste,” Leo’s voice cut through the silence, colder than it had been all evening.

I didn’t answer right away, just stood there, letting the weight of everything settle around me.

Finally, I spoke without facing him. “Is this really what we’re doing, Leo? Living together? Is this just some kind of... temporary arrangement? Or are we pretending everything is fine?”

Leo’s footsteps stopped just behind me. “You’re not in a position to question anything,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “It’s not up for discussion. We’re moving in together. It’s what’s best for both of us.”

I whipped around, my pulse spiking at the finality in his words. “What? No. I—what do you mean, ‘it’s best for both of us’? You don’t even care.”

Leo’s eyes met mine, cold and unwavering. “I care enough to make sure you don’t screw this up. You’ll move into my penthouse. You’ll be under my roof, and we’ll maintain the damn charade. There’s no room for failure here, Celeste.”

“Charade?” I echoed bitterly, my chest tightening. “That’s all we are to you? A damn performance?”

His gaze hardened. “You were always good at pretending, so don’t act like it’s beneath you now.”

I felt the sting of his words, but I didn’t flinch. “So that’s it then? You’re just ordering me to move in with you?”

“Yes,” Leo said, his voice unyielding. “Get used to it.”

I took a breath, my heart pounding in my chest. “You can’t just tell me what to do. I’m not your damn puppet.”

Leo’s lips curled into a faint smirk, but his eyes never wavered. “I don’t need you to be anything other than what you’ve always been. It’s simple, Celeste. Live with me, play your part, and everything will go according to plan.”

I stared at him, feeling the weight of his words press down on me like a boulder. He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t even considering my feelings. This wasn’t about me. This was about maintaining control.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Leo said, turning on his heel. “You’ll be moving in tomorrow.”

I stood there, watching him walk away, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps. There was no way out. No room to argue. I had no choice.

I let my shoulders sag, feeling a mixture of anger and helplessness wash over me. He had just told me what to do, and it was like I had no say in the matter. But this wasn’t over. I’d make him regret underestimating me.

I was no one's puppet.