His Broken Vow

The rain in Paris never arrived softly and It thundered against the roof of the taxi like a warning. Celeste Moreau sat stiffly in the back seat with  her fingers clenched around the envelope that had changed everything, her eyes were a stormy green and she stared blankly at the wrought iron gates coming into view and the towering emblem of Devereux International standing like a fortress in the heart of Rue Saint-Honoré.

She swallowed hard because she hadn't been here in ten years, not since the day her father walked into the Seine and never came out, and now she was back summoned like some puppet on strings by the very man she'd sworn to hate for the rest of her life. Lucien Devereux, the name tasted like rust in her mouth." Madame?" The driver turned to her, eyes concerned. "We're here." She nodded stiffly and stepped out and the rain instantly soaking into her coat,her fingers trembled as she clutched her sketch portfolio under one arm and  the invitation letter still crumpled in her palm."

We'd be honored to review your private collection for a potential partnership with Devereux International." The words were typed, sterile and professional,but she'd read between the lines. Lucien Devereux didn't do "partnerships" , he bought, crushed and he also  consumed, and now, he wanted her. She passed through the main doors and was met with silence and steel with white marble floors, minimalist chandeliers, and security cameras that watched every movement. The receptionist looked up, recognizing her name on the schedule." Miss Moreau, Mr. Devereux is expecting you on eleventh floor." Of course he was. The elevator opened to a floor bathed in glass and gold and a floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a gray with rain-slicked Paris. A long hallway stretched ahead, guarded by a set of sleek black double doors and her heels echoed as she walked. She stopped before the door with her heart thudding so loud she thought it might betray her, then a soft click and the door opened and there he was,  Lucien Devereux, standing by the window. He was tall and terrifying in a tailored black suit and his dark hair was swept back with his  jawline so sharp that it could have cut glass, then he turned slowly like he had all the time in the world. His eyes were icy blue and unreadable expression settled on her and time collapsed."Celeste Moreau," he said with his voice deep and smooth. "Still painting in ashes, I see." Her breath caught, of course he'd remember her father's favorite phrase and she forced herself to stand taller,  "Still pretending you have a soul, I see."His mouth curled in half amusement and half something darker. "I see the years haven't dulled your tongue." she replied him harshly. "

And I see yours is still dipped in poison."Then a small laugh escaped him, soft, unexpected and  dangerous."Still fire," he murmured. "That will make things...interesting." she replied and she dropped her portfolio on the glass table between them. "Let's not waste time,you asked for a viewing and here's the collection."

Lucien didn't move toward it but instead, he moved toward her, step by step. Celeste's heart hammered against her ribs and she hated that he smelled like rain and money and something unmistakably male, she hated that his presence stirred something traitorous inside her. But most of all she hated how calm he looked like none of this mattered, like her father hadn't died with Lucien's company name in his suicide note. He stopped barely a breath away. "I didn't ask you here for your sketches, Celeste. "She blinked. "Excuse me?" I asked you here because you owe me."The room tilted and her voice cracked. "I don't owe you a damn thing."

"Oh, but you do," he said, gaze dropping to her mouth. "Your father did,and now... the debt is yours."She stepped back,"You're insane."

"Perhaps," he said smoothly, "but even madness has rules." Her blood turned to ice, "What do you want?" then Lucien smiled slow and cruel." Three months with me under contract and as my personal designer, exclusive,no outside clients,  no questions,no refusals."

Her lips parted and stunned. "You want me to work for you?"

"I want you under my roof  and under my control."

Her heart raced, and not just from fury.

"You can't just. "

" oh , I can," he said moving past her. "Or you can watch your name disappear from every runway in Paris and your dreams drowned like your father."The words hit her like a punch to the chest.