Chapter 3

Dorian quickly stood up, but his movements remained gracefully composed. "Looks like your guardian is here to pick you up."

The booth door was roughly pushed open, and Montgomery appeared in the doorway. His suit was still perfect, but his tie was loose, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes burning with a wrath I'd never seen before.

When he saw me leaning against Dorian, that anger instantly escalated to rage.

"Let her go!" Montgomery strode into the booth.

Dorian stood up calmly, completely unintimidated by Montgomery's presence. "Mr. Sterling, you seem to be rather late."

Montgomery's expression grew even darker. "You know me?"

Dorian offered a faint, knowing smile. "Everyone knows the great Mr. Sterling."

That smile seemed to infuriate Montgomery even more. "You're just a bartender," Montgomery's voice was ice cold. "Don't think you can lecture me."

"Maybe," Dorian smiled, but there was something dangerous in that smile. "But at least I was here when she needed someone."

Montgomery's fists clenched, and I worried he might actually throw a punch. But then the bar owner and a man who looked like a driver walked in.

"Mr. Sterling," the owner said carefully, "perhaps we can resolve this privately?"

Montgomery gave Dorian a long look, then turned to me. "Celeste, we're going home."

This wasn't a request—it was an order.

I swayed as I stood up, alcohol making my balance precarious. Dorian reached out to steady me, but Montgomery got there first, roughly grabbing my arm.

"Thank you for keeping me company," I said to Dorian, my voice trembling.

"Anytime," he replied, his eyes meeting Montgomery's directly. "If you need it."

Montgomery dragged me out of the bar where the driver was already waiting. The black Mercedes gleamed under the streetlights like a beast waiting to devour its prey.

The car door slammed shut, trapping us in this confined space. The city's nightscape flashed past the windows, neon lights flickering across Montgomery's incensed expression.

"You're never going to places like that again!" his voice exploded in the car.

My drunkenness began to fade, replaced by a rebellious clarity. "Why? You already have Scarlett," I deliberately mentioned his fiancée, wanting to hurt him. "And Dorian is gentler than you..."

This had an unexpected effect. Montgomery's face became extremely dark, his eyes flashing with something I'd never seen before—was it jealousy?

"He's nothing!" Montgomery said. "Just a bartender!"

"But he listens to me," I shot back, "unlike certain people who only give orders."

Montgomery suddenly turned to face me, his expression frightening. In the dim car, he looked both angry and pained, like a trapped animal.

"You don't understand, Celeste," his voice became low and dangerous. "You have no idea what you're doing."

"Then explain it to me!" I countered. "Explain why you can marry Scarlett but won't allow me to have my own life!"

He didn't answer, just clenched his fists and stared out at the night scenery. Under the streetlights, I could see his jawline was rigid with tension.

The silence in the car became oppressive and dangerous. I could feel some intense emotion radiating from Montgomery, but I couldn't understand its nature. Was it possessiveness? Or something else?

"You know nothing about him," Montgomery turned to look at me, something unreadable in his eyes. "Do you think he really cares about you?"

The words stung, but I refused to show vulnerability in front of him. "At least he didn't publicly humiliate me after I confessed my feelings."

Montgomery's face went even paler. "Celeste...Don't... "

"Don't what?" The alcohol still coursing through my veins made me bold, reckless. All the pain, all the frustration, all the confusion of the past years suddenly boiled over. "Don't remind you that you rejected me? Don't make you face what you did to me?"

Before he could respond, before I could lose my nerve, I lunged forward and crashed my lips against his.

For a split second, Montgomery went completely rigid. His hands came up to my shoulders as if to push me away, and I could feel his internal struggle, his attempt at rationality.

But then something in him snapped.

His resistance crumbled like a dam bursting. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as he kissed me back with a desperate hunger that took my breath away. It wasn't gentle—it was fierce, consuming, years of suppressed emotion poured into this single moment.

"Celeste," he breathed against my lips, his voice broken. "We can't... I can't..."

But his actions contradicted his words. His hands roamed my back, his lips found my neck, and I could feel him trembling with the effort of holding back.

"You want this," I whispered, my hands fisting in his shirt.

He groaned, a sound of pure torment. His forehead pressed against mine, his eyes closed tight. "But this is wrong, Celeste. I'm supposed to protect you, not..."

"Not love me the way I love you?" I challenged, my lips brushing his.

That broke him completely. He kissed me again, harder this time, his control finally shattered. In the darkness of the car, with the city lights streaming past us, we crossed a line we could never uncross.

When the car finally stopped in the Sterling house driveway, we sat apart, both breathing heavily. Montgomery's hair was disheveled, his lips swollen from our kisses, his eyes wild with a mixture of desire and regret.

I walked toward the house. Montgomery was still sitting there behind the window, watching my retreating figure. Even in the darkness, I could feel that complex and dangerous emotion in his eyes —and the weight of what we'd just done.