Chapter <b>36 </b>


    <b>Chapter </b><b>36 </b>


    CELINE’S POV~


    Hunter looks like a mess.


    Worse than a mess<b>. </b>


    His shirt is wrinkled, his cor loose, his hair disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it all night. There’s a dark flush to his skin, the kind that onlyes from too much whiskey, too many mistakes.


    His eyes are ssy but sharp, locked I onto me like I’m the only thing keeping him standing. <fn0d3a> Checktest chapters at ?ovelFind</fn0d3a>


    And I should leave.


    I should turn around, whisper a quick goodnight, and forget that I ever wandered here in the first ce.


    But I don’t.


    Because the moment stretches too long. Because Hunter doesn’t look at me like I’m just a maid. Because despite everything, a part of me wonders if he wants me here.


    He lets out a slow breath, then rakes a hand through his hair, as if trying to pull himself together. His lips tilt, just slightly.


    “Are you going to stand out there all night, or do you want a drink?”


    I blink. “A drink?”


    He gestures vaguely behind him, toward the dimly lit study.“That’s what people do when they’re too tired to sleep.”


    I hesitate, every warning bell in my head screaming at me. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.


    But instead of walking away, I hear myself say, “I don’t think another drink is what you need right now.”


    It’s barely above a whisper, but he hears it anyway. His smirk deepens. “You might be right,” he murmurs. “But I need something.”


    And before I can change my mind, he steps aside, holding the door open.


    And I walk in.


    Hunter’s study is nothing like I expected.


    It’s not just a room–it’s a sanctuary. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and dark wood stretching up to the ceiling. A fire burns low in the firece, casting long shadows across the room.


    The scent of whiskey lingers in the air, thick and heady.


    For someone as cold as Hunter, the space is… warm, Almost intimate.


    I don’t belong here.


    I wrap my arms around myself<b>, </b>suddenly too aware of how small I feel in the room. Of how present he is.


    Hunter doesn’t say anything as he moves to the bar, pouring himself another drink. His movements are slow, methodical–like he’s trying to ground himself.


    I should say something. Make an excuse. But the words tangle in my throat.


    “Do you always wander the house at night?” His voice is casual, but there’s something sharper beneath it.


    I force myself to meet his gaze. “Do you alwayse home looking like that?”


    Hunter smirks, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Touché.”


    The silence stretches between us, thick and unspoken. Then, without warning, he steps closer. I take a breath, but it catches in my throat.


    “You’re hiding something,” he says, voice lower now. “And I won’t stop until I figure it out.”


    My pulse stutters.


    I shouldugh it off, and make some sarcastic remark, but I can’t. Because the way he’s looking at me–like he sees straight through me–makes it impossible to hide.


    I feel the weight of the past pressing down on me. The exhaustion. The loneliness. The years of fighting for a future that was never mine to have<b>. </b>


    And suddenly, something inside me snaps.


    “You want to know the truth, Sir?” My voice is sharper than I nned, but I don’t stop.


    “I’ve spent my entire life–fighting. Fighting to be seen. Fighting to survive. I worked myself into the ground for a future that never came, and then <b>one </b>mistake–one–changed everything”


    Hunter goes still.


    I swallow hard, my chest rising and falling too fast.


    “I was neen,” I continue, my voice barely above a whisper.


    “One night. That’s all it was. And then I had Caesar. And suddenly, my life wasn’t just mine anymore. Suddenly, I was a single mother with nothing but a


    dream I couldn’t afford.”


    . I breathed out, shaking my head.


    “You think I’m hiding something? I wish I had something to hide. But this is it. This is my life. And I have spent every second of it wing my way forward, hoping–praying–that I won’t fail the one person who needs me.”


    Silence.


    A heavy, suffocating silence.


    I don’t look at him. I can’t. I stare at the floor, my chest rising and falling, my entire body trembling from the weight of everything I’ve just said.


    And then- Hunter steps closer.


    Slow. Deliberate. When he speaks, his voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.


    “Tell me everything, Celine.”


    And for the first time, I see something human in him.


    ~HUNTER’S POV~


    Celine is crying.


    And I don’t know what the hell to do about it.


    Her words still echo in my head. The weight of them. The exhaustion in her voice<b>, </b>the quiet heartbreak behind every syble.


    <b>2/4 </b>


    1011


    <b>She’s </b>curled in on herself on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around her knees like she’s trying to make herself smaller<b>. </b>Like she’s <b>trying </b>to disappear


    But I see her.


    I’ve always seen her.


    Her hair falls in front of her face, shielding her from me, and something about that–it just irritates me. I reach forward, hesitating <b>for </b><b>half </b>a second bartons tucking a strand behind her ear.


    My fingers graze her skin, and she flinches–just slightly.


    Not because she’s afraid. Because she feels it too.


    Her eyes flick up to mine, wide and ssy with unshed tears. Confused. Vulnerable. And fuck, she’s beautiful. Even now. Especially now.


    My chest tightens.


    I hate this. I hate her for making me feel like this. I hate myself more for wanting to pull her closer instead of walking away.


    in from “S


    I shift, lowering myself to my knees in


    Her breath hitches.


    of her.


    Neither of us speaks. The room is silent except for the crackling fire and the unsteady rhythm of her breathing.


    My hand moves before I can stop it, my thumb brushing the tear–stained skin of her cheek.


    She leans into it. Just barely. Just enough.


    And suddenly, it feels like the mood between us isn’t air at all, but something heavier. Something charged.


    My fingers trail down, tracing the soft line of her wrist. I feel her pulse hammering beneath my touch.


    I exhale slowly. “Why do you make me feel like this?”


    Celine swallows hard. “Like what?”


    Her voice is barely a whisper. I don’t answer. Because I don’t know the answer. Or maybe I do. Maybe that’s the problem.


    I shift closer. My fingers curl around her wrist. Her lips parted, her breath warm against my skin. And fuck–I want to kiss her.


    I could.


    I should. It would be so easy. Just a tilt of my head, a breath of space between us–I’m so close- And then- I curse under my breath, my whole body tensing.


    And I pull away.


    Fast. Abrupt. Like touching her was a mistake I can’t afford to make again. Her expression flickers. Hurt. Confusion. Something else.


    I force myself to my feet, running a hand through my hair, already regretting this whole damn night.


    “Forget this ever happened,” I mutter, my voice sharp. Cold.


    Like none of this meant anything. Like she doesn’t mean anything. Then I turn and walk away.


    Because if I don’t- I might do something I can’t take back..