Julian had never noticed the way the city went quiet after midnight until he started coming to her pce. There was something eerie about the silence of her penthouse, gss walls staring over a sleeping skyline, her voice the only sound that mattered.

  “You look tired,” Celeste said as she poured wine into two gsses. She didn’t ask if he wanted any. She never did.

  He sat where she liked him, on the velvet chaise, hands folded in his p. “I didn’t sleep well.”

  She smiled, and he could already feel the familiar tightening in his chest. That smile didn’t mean sympathy. It never did. It meant she knew why he didn’t sleep. He was thinking of her. She always made sure of that.

  “You should stop thinking so much,” she said. Her heels echoed across the marble as she approached, winegss in each hand. “It’s not a good look on you.”

  He took the gss she offered. “I just-“

  She silenced him with a touch, two fingers to his lips, cool and firm. “No,” she said gently. “Don’t ruin the moment with feelings.”

  Julian’s face flushed, and she smiled again, pleased.

  Celeste sat down beside him, curling her legs under her body like a cat. She studied him the way a collector might inspect a rare coin, calm, meticulous, aware of its value. “You skipped lunch again,” she murmured, brushing his jaw with the backs of her fingers. “I told you not to. You need energy if you’re going to keep up with me.”

  “I had meetings,” he said softly. “Back-to-back.”

  “Hmm.” She traced a line down his neck, and he shivered. “Work is important. But not more than me.”

  He nodded. Of course. That was the rule.

  Celeste leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. “Do you know what I hate, Julian?”

  He swallowed. “What?”

  “Men who pretend to be strong,” she whispered. “It’s so… tedious. But you-“ Her voice dipped lower. “You don’t pretend, do you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s what I like about you.”

  Julian closed his eyes as her hand slid behind his neck, fingers threading through his hair. There was no escaping her touch, not that he wanted to. Not really.

  “I could make you leave your job,” she said, almost idly. “You’d come live here. I’d keep you, feed you, dress you. You’d be mine.”

  He said nothing, but the winegss in his hand trembled.

  She noticed, of course. Celeste always noticed.

  “You’re scared,” she murmured.

  “A little.”

  She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

  Julian didn’t move. Her lips hovered near his skin, and it was like breathing near fire. There was no safety in her nearness, only the thrill of surrender.

  Celeste pulled back just slightly, her gaze locking onto his. Her eyes were the color of polished obsidian, and just as unreadable.

  “You don’t have to be brave with me,” she said. Her voice was a whisper, soft enough to be mistaken for kindness, but he knew better. It wasn’t an invitation. It was a command dressed in silk.

  He nodded again, and that was enough. She took the gss from his hand and set it down on the gss table with a delicate clink.

  “Lie down,” she said.

  He obeyed. Slowly, carefully, as if her furniture might bruise under the weight of his presence. She watched him with a quiet satisfaction, as if this entire moment had already pyed out in her mind and she was simply watching it unfold according to pn.

  Celeste walked to the side of the chaise and ran her hand through his hair. Julian exhaled, his body sinking deeper into the cushions. Her touch had a way of unraveling him one thread at a time. There was no resistance left.

  “You’re too soft,” she said after a moment. “That’s why I like you. Most men try to be stone. You’re more like… wet cy.”

  Julian’s throat was dry. “Is that a bad thing?”

  Celeste smiled, slow and deliberate. “No. It means you can be shaped.”

  She moved to sit beside him again, her legs tucked under her, her bare feet brushing against his thigh. She sipped from her own gss, eyes never leaving his face.

  “You want to be shaped, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  He hesitated, just long enough for her smile to fade into a warning. He felt the shift in her, like a change in temperature before a storm.

  “I want to be shaped,” he said, barely louder than a breath.

  Celeste leaned down, her lips ghosting over his. “Good boy.”

  The words filled him with something hot and helpless. Her approval was rare and terrifying. Like sunlight in a world that didn’t know how to survive the heat.

  She set her gss down, then slid her hand slowly under his shirt. Her nails grazed lightly across his chest.

  “One day,” she said, voice low, “you’ll forget who you were before me.”

  Julian stared at the ceiling. There were no stars, just reflections of city lights on the gss above.

  And the worst part was, a small voice inside him was already starting to forget.