Chapter 107 Chapter 107
Chapter 107
Celine sat in the back of the black SUV with her hands folded neatly in her lap, bag resting against her knee. The leather seat was cool through her skirt.
The driver hadn’t said much since picking her up only a quiet “good morning, ma’am” when she got in. The security guard beside him kept his eyes on the road and the mirrors, scanning every few seconds like he expected something to appear out of nowhere.
She still wasn’t used to this. The assigned car. The extra person in the front seat. The way the whole arrangement felt like protection she hadn’t asked for but couldn’t quite refuse. Ethan had explained it as “company protocol for senior staff,” voice calm and matter-of-fact when he told her the day before. She hadn’t pushed back. She didn’t want to seem difficult. But sitting here now, watching the city give way to quieter roads, she felt the strangeness of it all over again.
The driver slowed at a light, then eased forward when it turned green. Celine glanced at her phone. Still early enough. She could make her first meeting if traffic stayed light.
Then the engine made a low, stuttering sound.
The SUV rolled to a stop on the shoulder, tires crunching over loose gravel.
Celine leaned forward. “What happened?”
The driver tried the ignition once. Nothing. He tried again. The engine turned over weakly, then went quiet.
“Looks like it overheated,” he said, keeping his tone even. “We’ll need assistance.”
Celine checked the time again. “How long will that take?”
The guard in the passenger seat turned halfway. “Could be twenty minutes. Could be longer. This stretch doesn’t get fast response.”
She looked out the window. Empty road. Trees on both sides. No gas stations. No bus stops. Just asphalt stretching ahead and behind.
“I have an early meeting, ” she said quietly.
“We’ll handle it,” the driver replied. “Please stay in the vehicle.”
Celine shook her head. “I can’t wait. I’ll walk up the road and flag a taxi.”
The guard’s eyes flicked to her in the rearview. “Ma’am, Mr. Castellan was very clear ”
“I know,” she cut in, already reaching for the door handle. “But I’ve been taking taxis my whole life. I’ll be okay.”
The driver hesitated. “We’re responsible for getting you to the office safely.”
“And I appreciate that,” she said, voice firm but not sharp. “I really do. But I can’t sit here and miss the day.”
They exchanged a quick look.
“Let us call Mr. Castellan first,” the driver said.
Celine paused. “That’s not necessary.”
“It is,” the guard answered.
She exhaled slowly through her nose. “Fine.”
She opened the door and stepped out. The morning air was cooler than she expected. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, smoothed her skirt, and started walking along the edge of the road. Her heels clicked steadily against the pavement. Behind her, she heard the driver’s voice on the phone, low and urgent.
She kept going.
Ethan was already at his desk when his phone rang.
He almost let it go to voicemail. He was deep in the quarterly projections, numbers blurring together after a night of too little sleep. But when he saw the caller ID, everything else dropped away.
He answered on the second ring.
“Yes?”
“Sir,” the driver said. “The vehicle has broken down. Engine failure. We’re on the shoulder about three kilometers from the main turnoff.”
Ethan’s chair scraped back. “Where is she?”
“She… insisted on getting out, sir. Said she’d walk and catch a taxi. We advised against it, but ”
“Where exactly,” Ethan repeated, already moving toward the door.
The driver gave the coordinates.
Ethan ended the call without another word. Grabbed his keys from the drawer. Walked straight past his assistant’s desk without explanation. The elevator doors opened the second he pressed the button.
He didn’t wait for the private garage lift. Took the staff one down to the basement level. His car was parked closest to the exit—black, low, fast. He slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled out.
The Lamborghini ate the distance. Not reckless. Precise. Eyes scanning every stretch of road, every shoulder, every parked car.
Then he saw her.
Celine stood alone by the roadside, phone in one hand, other hand shading her eyes against the morning sun. She looked small against the long empty road—bag on her shoulder, posture straight but shoulders a little tense.
Ethan slowed hard. Pulled over. Stepped out.
“Celine.”
She turned fast.
Her eyes went wide. “Mr. Castellan?”
He walked toward her, jaw tight. “What are you doing out here?”
“The car broke down,” she said quickly. “I didn’t want to be late for the meeting.”
“You shouldn’t have gotten out of the vehicle.”
“I was going to catch a taxi,” she replied, a little defensive now. “I’ve done it a hundred times.”
Ethan glanced around once road empty in both directions then back at her. “There’s no taxi service on this stretch. You’d be waiting hours.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked down the road like she was just now realizing how far she’d walked.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his voice to level out. “There was an issue at the office. I was already on my way this direction.”
She studied his face. “You came because of me.”
He didn’t answer that.
Instead he gestured toward the car. “Get in.”
She hesitated for half a second. Then nodded and followed him.
He opened the passenger door for her. She slid in, smoothing her skirt as she settled. He closed it gently, walked around, and got behind the wheel.
The engine purred back to life. He pulled onto the road smoothly.
Neither of them spoke for the first minute.
Then Celine broke the quiet. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“You didn’t,” he said.
His hands stayed steady on the wheel.
“You should have called me,” he added.
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
He glanced at her briefly. “You won’t.”
She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together in her lap.
The city started coming back into view—buildings rising, traffic thickening.
Ethan didn’t slow down.
Celine sat beside him, heart still beating too fast, unsure why his presence made everything feel both safer and more unsteady at the same time.