Chapter 7: The Assassin

CELESTINA

When I left the room and gave my idiotic father a signal that the deal would be successful, his annoying prideful look ruined my day. 

As much as possible, I don’t want to spend any more minute in this fucking place so I head out first in the exit. 

As I stepped out of the mansion, a sleek black car park in front of me. 

The driver is one of Sevastian’s men,I looked at him and he seemed reluctant to even open the door for me. 

His hesitation was amusing, but I wasn’t in the mood for patience.

I arched a brow at him, and that was all it took. Without another word, he scrambled to follow my silent command. 

I wasn’t their boss, but I was someone they couldn’t afford to ignore.

When I told him where to take me, his eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a respectful nod.

The drive here had been quiet, the tension between myself and Sevastian still clinging to my skin like an unshakable shadow. 

But now, standing at the threshold of his home, I let myself take a long, steady breath.

The doors opened, revealing a grand foyer. At its center stood an older man with impeccable posture. 

He steps forward with a slight bow, his posture flawless as introduces himself as the family butler, James. 

His voice is smooth, carrying the practiced tone of someone who has served with quiet dignity for years. 

Beside him, an older woman stands with a gentle warmth in her expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she offers me a kind smile. 

Her graying hair is pinned back neatly, and her hands rest gracefully in front of her.

 James turns to her with a soft glance, the faintest hint of affection in his gaze. 

“This is Ophelia, my wife,” he says, his tone momentarily losing its formality. Ophelia nods slightly, her smile deepening, exuding an air of quiet strength and warmth that immediately sets me at ease.

His wife stepped forward, her voice soft but cheerful. “Please, come in. Is there anything you need?”

For the first time in hours, the weight on my shoulders eased slightly. 

Their warmth and hospitality were a stark contrast to the constant tension surrounding the Ortega name.

“Yes,” I said smoothly, offering them a polite smile. “A bucket of your best liquor, Ophelia. And, if Sevastian arrives, tell him I’m waiting for him in the master bedroom.”

Ophelia hesitated only for a moment before nodding. “Of course, madam.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, and I allowed James to escort me upstairs to the lavish master suite. 

Once inside, I took a moment to survey the space. It was as cold and precise as Sevastian himself, gray tones, sharp edges, everything perfectly in place.

Soon, Ophelia arrived with a silver bucket filled with an assortment of liquor. 

She placed it on the table and smiled sweetly before excusing herself, leaving me alone.

I wasted no time. 

Pulling a small vial of pills from the hidden compartment in my corset, I crushed them between my fingers and poured the powder into one of the bottles. 

The liquid swirled as the substance dissolved, leaving no trace of its presence.

I glanced at the clock on the wall, its hands ticking closer to the moment Sevastian would arrive. 

A wicked grin tugged at my lips.

Any minute now, the devil will arrive…

Picking up the bucket and two glasses, I made my way to the round crystal table by the glass-paneled windows. 

Two chairs were perfectly placed across from each other, but I didn’t bother with them. Instead, I perched myself on the table, crossing my legs elegantly.

I poured myself a glass of wine, letting the velvety red liquid swirl in the crystal. 

I took a sip just as a loud thud echoed through the house, the unmistakable sound of the front doors slamming shut.

Seconds later, Sevastian stormed into the room. 

His tie was already loose, his chest rising and falling like he had rushed here. In his right hand was a single sheet of paper, gripped so tightly it was crumpled at the edges.

I raised a brow at him, my expression deliberately calm as I set the glass down. 

“You seem to be in quite the hurry,” I teased, letting my voice drip with mock innocence.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he yanked his tie free and tossed it onto the floor. 

His stormy eyes locked on mine as he closed the distance between us, his movements sharp and calculated.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “What rights do you have to order my men when our contract hasn’t even been signed yet?”

Ah, there it was—his anger, raw and delicious.

I tilted my head, smiling sweetly, though my tone was far from apologetic. 

“What can I say? I was bored. You took too long, so I thought I’d make myself comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” he growled, his tone dripping with disbelief. 

His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, I thought he might actually lose his temper.

But that was the thing about Sevastian Ortega. He never truly lost control and neither would I.

“Yes, I want our night to be fun,” I teasingly replied.

Sevastian’s sharp gaze bored into me as he stood in the center of the room, radiating frustration. 

I sipped my wine leisurely, letting the silence stretch until he finally spoke.

"Are you dumb, or just an idiot?" His voice was low and cutting, his patience clearly at its limit.

I tilted my head, feigning innocence as I gave him a small, sweet smile. "Am I?"

His jaw clenched, his frustration spilling over as he ran a hand through his already tousled hair. 

For a brief moment, his control slipped, and it was mesmerizing.

"You think this is a game, don’t you?" His voice rose slightly, sharper now. "The car you rode in here? That wasn’t one of my men. That driver was hired to assassinate me. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that he didn’t just kill you outright or leave you in a ditch somewhere?"

The room stilled. For a fleeting second, my pulse quickened, and a cold chill crept down my spine. 

But I refused to let him see it. I couldn’t. My expression hardened into a perfect disguise, my smile widening as I leaned back casually.

"Well," I said, my tone light and teasing, "at least I’m still alive. Isn’t that what matters?"

His eyes flared, disbelief and fury warring within him. He took a step closer, the space between us shrinking as his presence loomed over me.

"You’re unbelievable," he muttered, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.

"And you’re sexy when you’re this mad," I shot back, my grin widening. I let my eyes sweep over him, purposefully lingering on the way his chest heaved with anger. "All worked up for me? How flattering."

"Celestina," he warned, his tone cold and biting.

"What?" I asked, my tone feigning innocence. "You don’t like compliments? Or maybe you just don’t know how to handle someone who isn’t afraid of you."

His gaze darkened, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, I can handle you just fine. But can you handle what’s coming for you?"

I raised my glass in mock salute, tilting my head as I gave him a pointed look. "Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?"