Chapter 57 A Secret For A Secret
Celene's POV
I wanted to say no and take my words back but I was too hurt, too angry and too betrayed.
"I don't know what you are anymore," I said instead. "I thought I knew you but I was wrong."
Silence filled the room. It was heavy and suffocating.
"I want space," I finally said. "I need you to leave. I need time to think, to process all of this. Just leave me alone please."
"No." He said firmly.
"What?"
"I said no." He stepped closer. "I'm not leaving you. Not again and not ever."
"Cole, I'm asking you to give me space!"
"And I'm telling you that's not happening." His voice was calm and controlled, but there was steel underneath. "You can ask me for anything else. Anything and I'll get you whatever you want. But I will never give you space. I will never leave you alone again, not after what happened and I almost lost you."
"You don't get to make that decision for me!"
"Yes, I do." He moved even closer until he was standing right in front of me. "You're mine, Celene. And I protect what's mine. Even if that means protecting you from yourself."
"That's not love," I whispered, my voice breaking. "That's control."
"Call it whatever you want," he said. "But I'm not leaving."
I opened my mouth to argue further when a sharp knock interrupted us.
Cole's jaw tightened. He turned toward the door looking irritated. "What?"
The door opened slightly, and Jeffery's face appeared. He looked apologetic but urgent. "Boss, I'm sorry to interrupt, but your attention is needed. It's urgent."
Cole closed his eyes briefly, as if gathering patience he didn't have. "How urgent?"
"Very. It can't wait."
He turned back to me, and for a moment, I saw conflict in his eyes. He didn't want to leave but whatever Jeffery needed him for was important enough to pull him away.
"I'll be back," he said, reaching out to touch me
I stepped back instinctively, but he didn't relent. He moved closer and reached out again, hesitating for just a second before his fingers brushed against my cheek in what was supposed to be a gentle touch.
And that's when his scent hit me. It washed over me like a wave, triggering something deep in my memory.
I'd smelled this before. Not just in the past few weeks but before that.
My mind flashed back to the airport event. How I was panicking and crying because I was so sure that I'd missed my flight and ruined everything. And then that man in the black suit who'd appeared out of nowhere, telling me a seat had opened up. He'd stood close to me and close enough that I'd caught a whiff of cologne.
This cologne.
Then another memory was at the club. The night I'd been drugged. Someone had carried me away from those men and lifted me over their shoulder and taken me somewhere safe. I remembered the scent then too, cutting through the haze of alcohol and whatever drug they'd slipped me.
My eyes widened as I stared at Cole.
He seemed to notice my expression change because his hand dropped from my face. "I'll be back soon," he said again, his voice quieter this time.
Then he turned and left with Jeffery, the door closing softly behind them.
I stood there in the middle of his bedroom, my mind racing.
It was him. It had to be him.
The airport and the club. Both times someone had saved me, and both times I'd caught that same distinctive scent.
But that meant he'd been following me for much longer than I thought. Much longer than he'd admitted.
How long had he been watching and stalking me?
I sank back onto the bed, my head spinning. Every revelation about Cole Ryder just led to more questions, more uncertainty, more fear about who he really was and what he wanted from me.
I sat there for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, trying to piece together a timeline. Trying to figure out when my life had stopped being my own and started being something he controlled.
Another knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts.
"Come in," I said, my voice hoarse.
A young woman in a maid's uniform entered, carrying a large tray. She was petite, with dark hair pulled back in a neat bun, and she kept her eyes downcast as she approached.
"Mr. Ryder asked me to bring you food, miss," she said quietly, setting the tray on the bedside table.
The moment she lifted the cover, the smell hit me. It was rich, savory and delicious. My stomach growled loudly, betraying me completely.
The maid gave a small smile. "I'll leave you to it, miss. If you need anything, just press the button by the bed."
She left quickly, closing the door behind her.
I stared at the tray. There was soup, still steaming. Fresh bread that looked homemade and some kind of pasta dish. A small salad, glass of juice , even dessert that looked like chocolate cake.
My stomach growled again, louder this time.
I didn't want to eat his food. Didn't want to accept anything from him because I was still angry. Eating the food he'd sent felt like giving in somehow, like admitting he could take care of me.
But God, I was hungry. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten . Before the kidnapping, probably which was days ago.
And the food smelled so good. The soup sent up curls of steam that carried the scent of herbs and vegetables. The bread was golden brown and crusty and the pasta looked perfectly cooked.
My resolve crumbled.
I reached for the soup first, bringing a spoonful to my lips. It was perfect, warm and comforting and exactly what my battered body needed.
I ate quickly after that, not even bothering with manners. I was too hungry to care. The soup, the bread, half the pasta, some of the salad. By the time I reached for the glass of water, I was actually feeling almost human again.
I was mid-sip when the door opened without a knock.
Cole walked in like he owned the place. Which, ofcourse,he did.
He looked at the nearly empty tray, then at me, and something that might have been satisfaction crossed his face. He moved to the bed and sat down on the edge, not too close but close enough that I could feel his presence.
"Are you less angry now that you've eaten?" he asked.
The audacity of this man.
I set down the glass of water and turned to face him fully. All the questions that had been swirling in my mind since his scent triggered my memory came rushing to the surface.
"It was you, wasn't it?" I asked, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart.
He tilted his head slightly. "You'll need to be more specific."
"At the airport. When I thought I'd missed my flight and then suddenly a seat opened up. That was you."
His expression didn't change, but I saw something flicker in his eyes like recognition.
"And at the club," I continued, my voice growing stronger. "The night I got drugged. Someone carried me away from those men and toook me somewhere safe. That was you too, wasn't it?"
He was quiet for a long moment, his green eyes studying my face. I could see him weighing his options, deciding whether to lie or tell the truth.
Finally, he cleared his throat.
"Yes," he said simply. " It was me at both times."
The confirmation hit me like a physical blow, even though I'd already known. Hearing him say it out loud made it real.
"How long?" I whispered. "How long have you been following me, Cole?"
He held my gaze, unflinching. "Long enough."