Celeste 

I peeped through the peephole in the door, and guessed who was there, Killian. He had stood as the owner of the house, and while I thought hard about it, I discovered that since the announcement of our engagement, he had owned it in a way.

I furiously swung the door open to face him. "What the hell brought you to my abode?" 

He made no attempt to answer. Instead, he brushed past and stepped inside, his presence enveloping the living room in the most annoying way. "Be quick, pack a bag, we are leaving."

I blinked in confusion. "Excuse me, I should do what exactly?"

"You’re now engaged to me, and you are moving in with me."

I let out a humorous dry laugh. "You must be joking."

He stared in confusion at me, and I saw he was completely serious. "Do I, anyway, appear to you as a joke?"

I arched my brow, my arms folded as I observed him. "No, that would have been better. You definitely sound like a psychopath."

He smirked, seeing that he got me in a tight corner. "And I can remember vividly that you look and sound exactly like the lady that signed a contract a few minutes ago with me, and one of the criteria requires her to put her acting skills into work, and act like my fiancee. That means you are not allowed to live alone, but under the same roof as me."

I exhaled as I tried to collect my thoughts. "You can’t just make decisions for me because of fake engagement, Killian!"

"Celeste," he called softly, stepping closer than necessary. "Whoever attempted to assassinate you isn't dead yet, they are still out there. "You shouldn't wait to be told that the safest place you will ever be is my house."

His words refreshed my memory, bringing back the horrible experience I had the day I was attacked. As much as I despised everything that had to do with him, he wasn’t entirely wrong. My safety in a strange way lies with him.

I turned away trying to process everything, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. "Fine, if you say so. But let it be known to you that I’m coming with my own security."

He chuckled in a cute way. "Of course, I won't stop you. You can decide to bring your whole army, no restrictions. But all you have to do is get ready in an hour."

And without saying another thing, he turned and left, leaving me hanging, wondering if I had been rash in accepting to take coverage in his house. 

Exactly an hour later, I found myself in Killian’s penthouse. I should have been secure, relaxed, but instead, it felt more like a fortress. Everywhere I turned, from the floor to the ceiling, including windows to the furniture, and every single thing in the house screamed power and dominance.

"You are welcome home, fiancee," Killian startled me, folding his arms and observing as I surveyed my forced prison.

"Don’t even try to push it," I muttered, as I dragged a few of my suitcases to my room.

He chuckled at my behavior, and with that, took the directions to the bar. "Do you care for a drink?"

I glanced at him, my body pushing me to accept just a sip, but my head kept screaming consciously. "I would rather stay dehydrated and clear-eyed than risking getting tipsy near you."

"Smartest choice ever." I watched as he poured himself a glass of rich whiskey, watched him hungrily to when he swirled his amber liquid. "So, let's have a small chit-chat, Celeste. Who among your enemies would be despicable to think of harming you?"

I hesitated while trying to gather my list. "I certainly have those ranking high on my list. That's my suspicion. But it would be baseless to just assume."

He took yet another sip, his gaze focused on me. "Then let’s get your list ready and make them solid."

I frowned in confusion. "What would that imply?"

Killian set aside his glass of wine, then pulled a file from a drawer close by and pushed it for me to take a look. "Let's dig deep into your past, Celeste." Someone had succeeded in founding something fishy there. And it is worthy of note that that person isn’t me."

I froze immediately. "What do you mean?"

He leaned for comfort against the bar, still analyzing the report on the file like a detective. "That's very strange, isn’t it? The accurate timing of when the attack took place. How the media suddenly released chaos. And now, just to paint you black and tarnish your image, someone is devoted to digging into your history."

I swallowed an invisible lump already forming in my hand. "Who again?"

Killian’s eyes became heavy but expressionless. "That’s exactly what I plan to find out."

My hands involuntarily curled into fists. "I don’t remember asking you to carry my matter on your head, Killian."

He smirked. "You did, actually. You are just too arrogant to admit it."

Before I could counter his point, my phone buzzed, halting our conversation. At first glance at the screen, I saw an encrypted email.

My pulse quickened as I tried to open it.

I was expecting to see a lengthy message, but before me was a single line stared text.

Your father, whom you all assumed was dead, is alive. But that won't be for long.

The room started spinning. I could not place my bearing. My breath became hitched and unsteady. 

My father had died and far gone years ago. 

And was buried straight?

Killian, if paying keen attention, must have noticed the shift in mood after checking my phone. "What is the problem?"

I found it difficult to utter a word. Even my breathing was hitched.

"Celeste," he pressed further, moving closer, and I found his voice strangely soft. "What’s happened?"

I gazed at him without saying a word, my fingers gripping the phone for safety. 

If this happens to be true, it could only mean one thing; everything I ever knew was forged and all lies.

And what if this was planned to trap me?

Then someone very close desperately wants me out of the way. 

Who could this be? Why cut corners while playing games? And what freaks me the most is how it feels like I have already lost.