The Broken Vows: Zane and Celeste’s Story (The Windsors)

Celeste pauses with her lipstick in hand when I step out of the shower, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. She draws a shaky breath, her gaze darkening with desire.

I’m not sure what I was thinking when I reserved the same room we had years ago at this same conference, back when I tried my hardest to win over her grandfather. It wasn’t mere nostalgia that led me to do this, but I can’t quite define what it is either. Is it because I want to remind her of everything she destroyed? Or because I want to recreate the nights we shared here? I’m not sure, and that’s the problem with Celeste. The longer I’m married to her, the less sure I am that I’ll be able to walk away from her when our time is up. I don’t know what I want from her anymore, but I do know I want her.

I can’t see a future with her, not with the way my family feels about her and the way we can’t trust each other, but fuck, I love her. I just wish that was enough, that the rest didn’t matter.

She watches me as I dry off and tries her hardest to pretend she’s focused on her makeup. I can’t help but smirk, enjoying the way she gives me her attention. She looks fucking stunning standing there in nothing but another set of stupidly sexy lingerie — red, this time. She’s got her back turned to me, most of her ass on display, and fuck, she’s my greatest fantasy come to life.

She catches me looking and smirks, satisfaction flashing through her eyes as she turns to face me, giving me a better view. There’s something about those fucking things she wears to keep her stockings up — it’s fucking irresistible. Just the sight of it makes me want to kneel between her legs and worship her pussy.

I walk up to her with nothing but a towel around my waist, and she stares at me the way she did on the plane and again last night, with a hint of desperation. A few stray drops of water run down my chest, and my beautiful wife follows them intently, her hungry gaze making my cock throb.

One hand wraps into her hair, and she sucks in a breath when the tips of my fingers run down the side of her neck and over her bra. “Who is this for?” I ask, irrational jealousy settling deep in my chest. She’s been quiet since we got here, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she knows Clifton will be here too. Is she planning to sneak away at some point, the way she used to sneak around with me?

I still remember the way she taunted me when we were first forced together. She told me she wouldn’t stop seeing him, that even if she married me, she’d only ever love him. The memory sickens me. I spent years trying to get over her, and she fell in love with someone else so easily. It hurts even more that it was him. When I’m touching her, her entire attention is on me, but who is it that occupies her thoughts when I can’t drown them out with desire? Is it him?

I tip her face up to mine, my grip on her hair tightening as she places her hand over my chest, the tips of her fingers brushing over my tattoo. “You,” she says, her tone pleading, like she can read the insecurity I’m trying to hide. “It’s for you.”

I slide my hand around her waist, my touch eager, impatient. She whimpers when I grab her ass and squeeze tightly. “It’d better be,” I warn her, fisting my hand in her hair as I pull her closer, my lips finding hers. The moment our lips meet, she rises to her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck, deepening our kiss. There’s something so reassuring about the way she melts into me, and my touch softens, my anger draining away. I fucking hate that she still has so much power over me, and I don’t think her hold will ever loosen.

Her hand wraps around my cheek and she pulls away a little to look at me, that same vulnerability I’m feeling present in her eyes. “Celeste Windsor,” I tell her. “That’s your name now. Don’t you dare forget it.”

I’d expected her to snap at my harsh tone, but she just stares at me for a moment, and then smiles. “I’m well aware that I’m your wife, Zane,” she whispers, her gaze filled with a hint of heartache and torment. It’s like she both loves and hates the fact that she’s mine, and fuck, I feel the same way.

I take a step away, and she grabs my hand, the two of us staring at each other for a moment, so much left unspoken. It’s like we’re on the cusp of something new, or perhaps, something that used to be, but neither of us knows how to navigate our newfound normal. “We’ll be late,” I murmur, and she nods, letting go of me with a hint of reluctance that disarms me.

I watch her for a moment as she turns around and begins to get dressed, my heart racing. Fuck. Five years, and I’m still in love with her. She’s been different ever since she had that nightmare about Lily, and the way she looks at me has changed. Now, when she looks into my eyes, there’s no hatred — just questions I don’t have answers to. Years ago, I’d have given the world to be in this situation with her, where she’s at least open to the idea of me telling the truth, but now? It’s too little, too late.

We’re both quiet as we head down to the ballroom the conference is being held in, her body brushing against mine in the elevator. My heart wrenches as I think back to the way she hooked her pinky around mine back then, and when I glance at her, the look in her eyes makes me think she’s remembering it too.

Something flashes in her gaze when I wrap my hand around hers and entwine our fingers, the way I couldn’t back then. She searches my face, and I do the same, neither of us quite sure what we’re hoping to find.

She sighs when we reach the ground floor, her expression shuttering closed as she faces forward, and I tighten my grip on her as we walk out, finding myself entirely unable to let go.

“Celeste?”

A chill runs down my spine at the sound of a familiar voice, my mood sinking when I spot Clifton Emerson. He pushes off the wall like he’s been waiting for my wife, just like he did back then. She tenses, and he pauses mid-step when he notices our joined hands.

The heartache that crosses his face would’ve made me pity him if it wasn’t my wife he coveted. I tighten my grip on Celeste, and she squeezes back, almost like she’s trying to reassure me.

“Cliff,” she says, her voice carrying a hint of affection that irritates me to no end. It’s crazy how easily she affects my emotions, even after all these years.

Clifton looks at her like he wants to pull her away from me and take her in his arms, and I grin at him tauntingly, taking comfort in the fact she hasn’t tried to wrench herself free from me. She was mine then, and she’s mine now.

He averts his gaze like he knows what I’m thinking and focuses on Celeste instead, neither of us bothering to greet the other. “I missed you,” he tells my wife, his tone conveying his sincerity. It fucking guts me to see the way her expression softens, and I wait with bated breath to hear her reply, my heart on the verge of breaking.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says, and my shoulders relax, air rushing back into my lungs. I smile and let go of her hand to wrap it around her waist instead, pulling her closer. She comes willingly and leans into me like it’s the most natural thing to do, like she belongs with me.

Clifton looks away, but he fails to hide his longing and despair. I don’t have it in me to feel sorry for him. “You got here later than you said you would,” he says, his tone accusatory. “I thought you said you’d arrive last night? I called you, but you didn’t pick up.”

My entire body goes rigid, and I clench my jaw to keep my silence. She spoke to him? Told him what time she’d arrive? Why the fuck would she do that?

“We did arrive last night,” she says, heat rushing to her cheeks. Is she thinking of what went down moments after we walked into our room? She certainly wasn’t thinking of Clifton when she turned around halfway across our suite, her beautiful amber eyes dripping with need as she reminded me I’d told her I wouldn’t deny her anything, if she just asked. He wasn’t on her mind as she dropped to her knees and repaid me for the way I buried my face between her legs on the plane.

Clifton’s eyes flash with disappointment, and I bite back a smile as I analyze Celeste’s behavior, learning something interesting that my anger prevented me from seeing before. I study my wife carefully as we walk into the conference room, noting the way she looks at Clifton and interacts with him. Every few seconds, her gaze moves back to me, and I grin as I follow along quietly, enjoying the way my mere presence gets on Clifton’s nerves.

Sometimes, it’s like history repeats itself with her. Once again, I find myself seated next to Celeste, with Clifton on her other side. This time, however, I place my hand in her lap, my palm turned up. My wife places her hand in mine, and I smirk as the presentation starts. It’s some bullshit about the advances in 3D modeling, and the entire time, I just focus on the feel of our intertwined fingers.

Celeste leans into me halfway through the presentation, letting me know she’s taking a quick bathroom break, and I tense, cold dread washing over me. I’m instantly reminded of the way we disappeared together, and she must know what I’m thinking, because she throws me a reassuring smile before she walks away.

I glance at Clifton, making sure he doesn’t follow her, and he looks back at me, his gaze challenging. Something akin to anger flickers through his eyes as I grab my trusty tin of peppermint candy and pop one into my mouth. He frowns at it, pure despair taking over his entire demeanor.

“It won’t last,” he says. “You two fell apart once. It’ll happen again. When it does, I’ll be where I’ve always been, right here, waiting for her.”

I lean back in my seat, quietly confident for the first time in years. I didn’t even realize he knew we dated years ago, and I’m oddly pleased to learn my wife told him about us. “If our marriage doesn’t last, you will be where you’ve always been, Clifton. On the sidelines, pining after a woman that’ll always be mine.” I’m not sure what it is about us these days, but I just know I’m right. We’ve hurt each other fatally throughout the years, but through it all, I’ve been hers as much as she’s been mine. Even if we don’t make it, that won’t change. The defeat in his eyes tells me he knows it too.

I smirk as I rise from my seat, intent on intercepting my wife and pulling her into the closest utility room. When she sits back down next to him, I want her to remember who the fuck she belongs to, once and for all.