Romance With The CEO

Celest’s POV

The piano was my shield. Every night, I hid behind its polished wood and ivory keys, letting the music drown out the whispers that followed me through life. Tonight, I played Chopin's Nocturne in E-flat major, my mother's favorite. My fingers knew the melody by heart, each note a memory of her teaching me, her hands guiding mine across these same keys years ago.

The private club’s usual crowd of Manhattan’s supernatural elite buzzed around me, their conversations a distant hum beneath the music. Crystal glasses clinked, expensive perfumes mingled with aged whiskey, and I remained invisible. Just another human employee. Or so they thought. Just the piano girl.

Until he ruined everything. Until he noticed me when all I wanted was not to be noticed.

I had been warned about wolves like him.

Earlier that evening, in the staff lounge, Estel had pulled me aside.

"Celest, you need to be careful," she whispered, her gaze darting around the scattered break room. "You work around them. You know what happens when they…" she swallowed, lowering her voice. "When they catch a scent that’s… different."

I kept my expression neutral, but inside, dread coiled in my stomach. I knew exactly what she meant.

"I'm careful," I assured her, avoiding her eyes as I tightened my apron.

Estel sighed, pressing on. "I know you are, but accidents happen. You're already working crazy hours just to afford your tiny apartment. And this place? It's dangerous. I mean, the only reason they pay us so well is because no normal human would willingly work here."

She wasn’t wrong. The high commission was the reason I endured it. The reason I played piano for creatures that would rip me apart if they knew the truth.

"Look," she added, squeezing my arm. "Just… be careful tonight. And for god’s sake, don’t bleed."

Her warning echoed in my mind as his hand landed heavy on my shoulder.

The scent of thousand-dollar whiskey and designer cologne couldn’t mask the wolf beneath.

"You play beautifully," he slurred, his breath hot against my ear.

I kept my eyes fixed on the keys, willing my heart to stay steady. "Thank you, sir." The words tasted like ash in my mouth.

He chuckled, the sound of someone used to getting his way. "Come on, sweetheart. A pretty thing like you shouldn't be wasting herself behind a piano."

My stomach twisted. His hand had tightened slightly, not letting go. A flicker of unease crawled up my spine.

I shifted away, forcing a polite smile. "I'm just here to play music."

His grip didn't ease. "Maybe I want a little more than just music." His voice turned low, possesive.

Panic flickered in my chest, but I masked it. "Sir, you're making me uncomfortable."

For a moment, I thought he might back off. But then, the worst thing happened My hand slipped against the keys, and a sharp sting shot through my finger.

I sucked in a breath as a single drop of blood welled up.

The change in him was instant.

His nostrils flared, pupils dilating as he inhaled sharply. The playful leer vanished, immediatel replaced by something far more dangerous.

His grip turned bruising.

My blood. He had scented it.

A flash of hunger crossed his face. Then, before I could react, his hand shot up and grabbed my wrist.

"What are you?" His voice was no longer slurred but sharp, clear. His entire demeanor had shifted from drunken playfulness to something primal, beastly.

I yanked away. "Let go!"

But he didn’t. His fingers dug into my skin, his breathing ragged. He was seconds away from shifting, seconds away from exposing me in front of the entire club.

I didn't think so. I acted.

I slammed my free hand against his chest and shoved.

The force caught him off guard. He stumbled back, snarling, but I was already moving. I turned and ran.

I could hear him recovering behind me, his footsteps quick, his breath coming fast. My scent would lead him straight to me. I needed to get out. Fast.

But instead, I crashed into something solid. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

Strong hands caught my waist before I could fall, and then….

I smelled it.

His scent. It wrapped around me like dark velvet. Aged scotch and cedar smoke, winter nights and raw power. But underneath was something else, something that called to the deepest, most primal part of me.

The air around us crackled with authority that made my knees weak and my blood sing. Without conscious thought, I pressed closer, fingers curling into the fine material of his suit.

"Please," I whispered, hating the tremor in my voice. "Help me."

Behind me, my pursuer went completely still. His arrogance evaporated, replaced by something much colder. Fear.

Because the man I had run into wasn’t just powerful. He was the power.

The pressure of his presence filled the room like storm clouds before lightning strikes. Every supernatural being within range went still, instinct warning them to freeze before the apex predator.

His attention shifted to me, and I felt it like a physical touch. "You reek of wolf," he murmured, voice like thunder wrapped in silk.

Ice slid down my spine. I forced myself to meet his gaze and nearly drowned in eyes like arctic storms—ancient and merciless.

"I don’t know what you mean," I lied, proud that my voice didn’t shake. In moments like that, I stuttered.

His jaw tightened. Those big hands flexed against my waist, and I couldn’t tell if he wanted to shove me away or pull me closer.

"You’re hiding something." The words rumbled through his chest, vibrating against mine.

But I could barely focus on his accusation. Because my body was betraying me in the worst possible way. Heat bloomed wherever he touched, spreading through my veins like wildfire. Every breath brought more of his scent, making my head spin.

I tried to step back. His grip tightened fractionally, holding me in place. His nostrils flared, catching something in my scent that made his own breath hitch.

Then his hold changed. It became something careful, restrained. Like he was holding himself back.

The fire in my blood roared higher.

No. Not now. Please, not here.

My heat. It was coming at the worst possible time.

In one fluid motion, he spun me around and pressed me against the wall. The move knocked a small sound from my throat. Not quite a gasp, not quite a whimper. His body caged mine completely, one hand pinning both of mine above my head.

A small moan escaped my lips. My body loved it. It loved the force and the way his touch felt on my skin.

When he lowered his head to my neck, I stopped breathing entirely.

"Who are you?" The question ghosted across my skin, deceptively soft.

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t form words. Everything narrowed down to the points where our bodies touched, to the heat building between us.

Then, his lips captured mine in a fiery kiss that totally consumed me. His hand roaming through my dress as he teased my body.

And fuck, did I want him to stop? No. Fucking no.

But the next thing I felt was sharp, sudden pain. His fangs sank into my neck before I sensed it coming.

The sound that escaped me was broken, desperate.

And I knew. Everything had just changed.