Chapter 15 – Sparks in the Silence
Chapter 15 – Sparks in the Silence
[Celeste]
Celeste Hart didn’t believe in coincidences.
Everything in her life was built on structure, intuition, and timing. When she saw Damon Hale standing alone at that rooftop party—stiff, handsome, haunted—she didn’t see a broken man.
She saw an opening.
For her career.
For her curiosity.
Maybe even for something more.
He was a project wrapped in brooding silk. She could already tell he was the kind of man who hid pain under polished smiles and kept his walls guarded by sharp retorts and long silences.
And Celeste loved a puzzle.
When he didn’t pull away from her light banter, she knew she had her chance.
They spoke for nearly an hour—about business, politics, and grief in subtle strokes. She didn’t press for personal details. She didn’t need to. She could read between the lines like poetry.
And she saw it clearly: this man had once loved fiercely, and now he didn’t know what to do with the pieces left behind.
So when she slipped her card into his palm, she didn’t say “Call me.”
She simply said, “When you’re ready.”
Because she knew he eventually would be.
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[Damon]
He didn’t call her.
Not right away.
But he kept the card.
And every time he saw it on his dresser, it reminded him that someone out there didn’t see him as a broken man—or a scandal, or a liability. Just... interesting.
It shouldn’t have meant much.
He had Aurora. He had Caleb. He had enough.
But...
Aurora was busy at the foundation every day now. The passion in her eyes when she talked about programs and press outreach reminded him of the woman he met years ago—bold, driven, unreachable.
And while he loved watching her thrive, it made him feel further away somehow.
They still slept in the same bed, but more often than not, their backs faced each other, both too exhausted to speak.
He started waking in the middle of the night with his jaw clenched and hands balled in the sheets, sweat dripping down his spine.
Dreams.
Or were they memories?
He didn’t know anymore.
All he knew was that Aurora’s skin still haunted his senses.
Her voice—her sighs—echoed in the dark.
Sometimes, in sleep, he reached for her.
But she was never there.
---
[Aurora]
He was growing distant.
She noticed.
And it hurt.
But she said nothing.
Maybe because she was afraid of what she might hear.
Instead, she buried herself in the foundation. Every success story fueled her—every rescued girl, every safe house built in Gregory’s crumbling empire.
Luca, the foundation’s legal counsel and her old college friend, was an anchor. He brought calm energy to the chaos and always knew when she needed a break.
One Friday evening, after back-to-back meetings, he knocked on her office door.
“You need a drink,” he said.
“I have to finalize the donor report,” she replied, not looking up.
“It can wait. Come on. Just an hour. We’ll go to that old jazz bar on 9th. No press. No board members.”
She hesitated.
And then nodded.
They sat in a corner booth, velvet seats and dim lights, a saxophone crooning softly nearby.
He asked about Caleb. She asked about his last case.
And then he said, carefully, “You’re not happy, are you?”
She looked away. “That’s a complicated question.”
“I’m not trying to pry. I just... remember you. Before all of this. You lit up rooms, Rory. Now you walk through them like you’re carrying ghosts.”
She swallowed. “I lost a lot.”
“I know. But it’s okay to want more. You deserve more.”
His hand brushed hers briefly on the table.
She didn’t pull away.
But her heart raced with guilt.
Because even as her fingers warmed under his touch, her mind was somewhere else.
Back in a villa in Spain.
Back on a terrace with the sea roaring below.
Back in Damon’s arms.
---
[Damon – That Night]
The dream hit hard this time.
Aurora. In his arms. Moaning his name. Her breath on his neck, her legs tangled with his. Skin to skin.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t sweet.
It was desperate—like they were breaking each other open just to feel whole again.
He woke with a start.
Panting.
His sheets were soaked.
His heart thundered like a war drum in his chest.
And when he glanced to the side of the bed, it was empty.
Aurora hadn’t come home yet.
He stared into the dark, and something sharp pierced through his chest.
He missed her.
He wanted her.
But he didn’t know if they were still allowed to want each other.
And worse—he didn’t know if she still dreamed of him too.
---
[Aurora – That Same Night]
She stepped into the apartment quietly, the door clicking shut behind her.
It was past midnight. She had stayed late talking with Luca, and after the jazz bar, they had walked under the city lights.
He hadn’t kissed her.
But he almost did.
And she didn’t know what scared her more: the fact that she’d let him... or the fact that part of her wanted to.
She tiptoed into the bedroom, careful not to wake Damon.
But he was already awake.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, staring at the floor.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught up—”
“Were you with him?” he asked, voice flat.
She froze.
“Yes,” she admitted.
He looked up then.
And something burned in his eyes—jealousy, yes. But something else too.
Fear.
“Do you still love me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
She stared at him.
And for the first time in weeks, she didn’t deflect.
“I don’t know how to stop,” she said, her voice cracking.
And just like that, the distance between them crumbled.
He rose and walked toward her slowly.
She trembled—not from fear, but from the storm unraveling inside her.
When he reached her, he didn’t touch her.
He just said, “Then stop running.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. Every time we get close, you pull away.”
“So do you,” she whispered.
And then, without another word, she stepped into him.
Their lips met like thunder.
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