Page 125 of Hard to Resist

I avert my gaze from the window view I’d been admiring, landing on an utter eyesore.

“Al, I’ve got to go. I’ll text you later.” I hang up on my business partner and cross my arms. “Celine, what are you doing here?”

My ex pulls out the chair opposite me and takes a seat like she has every right to be here. She even picks up the glass of ice water, taking a small sip.

“Celine.”

“I thought my lawyer told you I wanted to meet.”

“And I thought I told your lawyer that I didn’t want to.”

“You want me to sign those new papers, don’t you?”

“You have to sign them, whether I meet with you or not. That was our agreement.”

“Our agreement never stated a specific date by which I have to do that.”

Those fucking loopholes in that damn agreement. They are the whole reason why Halston calls me an idiot once a month and why I am still not free of this harpy.

Celine crosses her legs, picking up the menu.

“You want me to sign them, you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

“How did you even know I was here?”

“You think you’re the only person with connections in this city? News flash, Cullen, I’ve come quite a long way since we separated.”

“Yes, you’ve achieved everything you set out to do. Congratulations.”

Her gaze cuts me like glass.

“No thanks to you.”

Talking with Celine is like playing a playlist on repeat that only has one song. It is the same shit, every single time, and eventually you get so sick of the words you just want to burn your ears off rather than hear the lyrics again.

“Hi, welcome to Gaëtan. I’m Lisa, your server. Can I get either of you something to drink to start?” Our server smiles at us, unable to read the tension.

“No, thank you, we’re—”

“I’ll have a glass of the 1987 Château Margaux Pavillon Rouge.” Celine hands the woman back the wine list, completely ignoring me.

“Wonderful. Would you like to hear our specials for lunch?”

“Of course.”

I tune the conversation out, my gaze homing in on the blonde bombshell who has just walked in the front door.

Fuck.

Verity.

I try not to raise any alarm bells, subtly unlocking my phone and pulling up her contact. I’d been so thrown off by Celine that I completely forgot why I am here in the first place.

I send a slew of texts to Verity, each one a different iteration of the same thing.

ME:STOP

ME:DON’T

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