Chapter 50 Whispers of Celeste
LEITANA
My eyes darted around the building as we walked deeper inside.
Everything looked so big and shiny, high ceilings, white walls, bright lights everywhere.
It was beautiful, overwhelming, and completely unfamiliar.
I had no idea where we were. After breakfast, Ravial had simply taken my hand, led me to the waiting car, and the driver pulled away without a word.
I never asked where we were going.
I couldn’t have, even if I’d wanted to.
My mouth had been… otherwise occupied the entire ride.
The memory alone sent a flutter through my stomach. Without thinking, I brushed my fingers across my lips—still tender, still swollen from him.
Ravial leaned down, his warm breath grazing my ear. “Something wrong, little lamb?” he murmured, voice low and rough, laced with amusement. “You keep touching your lips like you miss me already.”
My hand dropped like it had been burned. Heat flooded my cheeks; I stared at the polished floor, feeling his hidden gaze on me even through the blindfold.
Then the massive doors at the far end swung open.
Two men in black suits stepped aside, and we walked through.
I forgot how to breathe.
The room was vast and icy-cold, air-conditioning humming like a distant storm. Bright lights blazed from every angle, white curtains billowing from the ceiling. People bustled everywhere—hauling cameras, rolling racks of glittering clothes, aiming huge fans that whipped hair and fabric into perfect chaos.
And bodies.
So many bodies.
Women in barely-there lingerie, some with only tiny scraps covering their breasts. Men in tight shorts or less. Endless skin, long legs, sculpted stomachs, flawless faces caught mid-pose as flashes popped.
My mouth fell open. I dropped my gaze instantly, cheeks blazing.
Papa God, what kind of place is this?
I couldn’t look up for long. Every stolen glance revealed more skin, more confident poses, more blinding beauty.
Then, as if someone flipped a switch, everything stopped.
Every head turned.
Toward us.
Toward him.
Whispers rippled like wind through dry leaves.
“That’s him…”
“Mr. Ashbourne?”
“He never comes here…”
A man in a sharp suit and a woman clutching a clipboard hurried over, smiles stretched too wide.
“Mr. Ashbourne! We weren’t expecting. ”
Ravial didn’t slow. He acknowledged them with a single, cool nod and kept walking.
Then I saw her.
The stunning woman from the party, tall, long dark hair, perfect face, striding toward us in a sleek black dress that hugged every curve.
She reached Ravial first, smile bright and confident, white teeth flashing under the lights.
“Ravial,” she purred, voice smooth as silk. “You finally grace your own empire with a visit and you brought your wife.”
He stopped.
Glanced down at me, the corner of his mouth twitching in something almost like a smile before it vanished.
“It seems I haven’t introduced you two.”
“This is Leitana,” he said simply, his hand settling possessively at the small of my back.
Her sharp eyes flicked to me, polite, assessing.
“Leitana, meet Valentina Rossi. She runs the fashion and modeling division for Ashbourne Global.”
Valentina’s smile stayed perfect, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Pleasure,” she said coolly.
Then she turned back to Ravial, fingers lightly brushing his arm. “We need to discuss that incident. Walk with me?”
Ravial’s gaze shifted to a young assistant nearby, a nervous man clutching a tablet like a shield.
“Take care of her,” he ordered, voice flat and chilling.
The assistant nodded frantically. “Yes, sir.”
Valentina was already guiding Ravial away, leaning close to murmur something I couldn’t catch.
I watched them disappear through a side door, his broad back straight, her hand lingering on his sleeve.
My heart shrank, tight and heavy in my chest.
The assistant cleared his throat awkwardly. “Mrs. Ashbourne… would you like a seat? Something to drink?”
I forced my eyes away from the door and managed a small smile to ease his nerves. “Please follow me, Mrs. Ashbourne,” he said, gesturing toward the chaos.
“Plis,” I said softly, “call mi Leitana.”
The moment the words left my mouth, the entire room seemed to freeze. Heads turned. Conversations hushed. Dozens of eyes locked on me, like I’d suddenly become the main attraction.
Heat rushed to my face; I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“Did… did mi say something wrong?” I whispered.
The young man, Nathan, his badge read, stared at me like I’d sprouted wings.
Before he could answer, a familiar voice cut through the silence.
“Hi again, beautiful. We meet at last.”
I spun toward the sound, eyes widening in delight.
“Lafu!”
Her smile deepened as she sauntered closer, confidence radiating. “I knew I’d see that pretty face again, not just through a screen this time.”
Joy bubbled up inside me, chasing away the loneliness. I’d thought I’d never see her again after Ravial tore up her business card that night. Seeing a friendly face in this sea of strangers felt like finding shore after drifting.
Lafu turned to stunned Nathan. “You can go, Nathan. I’ll take care of her.”
He hesitated, glancing between us, then, under Lafu’s sharp look, hurried off.
“Come, come,” she said, grabbing my hand warmly and leading me to the side of the room. Curious eyes followed us like spotlights.
She guided me to a tall director’s chair beside a row of makeup stations. Models sat while artists worked magic on their faces, powder, gloss, dramatic liner.
“You’re right, Lafu,” a bright, cheerful voice chimed in. “She’s even prettier in person. That sneaky photo you took doesn’t do her justice.”
I turned to see a man with hair streaked in vibrant pink, blue, and purple, grinning wide as he set down a brush. A colorful silk scarf knotted at his neck, rings glinting on nearly every finger.
“Hi, gorgeous!” he exclaimed with a theatrical wink. “I’m Marco, resident face-painter and chief gossip collector. And you must be the mystery wife everyone’s buzzing about.”
My cheeks warmed, but I managed a shy smile. “Mi Leitana. Nice to meet yu.”
Marco clutched his chest dramatically. “That accent! It’s pure sunshine in audio form. Sit, sit, let me see that glow up close. Flawless, I swear.”
Lafu laughed and helped me onto the chair beside two stunning models already being prepped.
“This is Amara,” Lafu said, nodding to the tall, dark-skinned woman with a shaved head and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.
Amara offered an elegant, cool nod. “Welcome to the circus, darling.”
“And Jules,” Lafu continued, gesturing to the slim man with long blond hair and piercing green eyes. “Runway king, walks for every major house.”
Jules leaned forward, curiosity sparkling. “So you’re the one who finally tamed the untameable Ravial Ashbourne. Spill, girl, we need details.”
Marco swatted him lightly with a brush. “Hush, Jules. Let her breathe. First day in the lion’s den, remember?”
I shifted on the tall chair, suddenly aware again of all the lingering stares. “Mi… mi no tame anybody,” I said quietly. “Mi jus’… here.”
Lafu squeezed my shoulder gently. “You’re doing great. Ignore the gawking, they’re terrified of him and dying to know about you. Deadly mix.”
Marco leaned in, voice conspiratorial. “Half this room thought the boss was a myth. The other half figured he was married to his work. Then you show up looking like a tropical dream. They’re short-circuiting.”
Amara glanced over, lips curving in dry amusement. “Give it ten minutes. Someone will ask for a selfie. Then the floodgates open.”
My eyes widened. “Selfie?”
Jules chuckled. “Welcome to the jungle, sweetheart.”
Across the room, the photographer shouted for Amara and Jules. They rose gracefully and glided toward the set like they owned the air itself.
Lafu smiled down at me. “You good here for a minute? I need to check the next look.”
I nodded, twisting my hands in my lap. “Mi okay.”
As she walked away, Marco leaned closer, voice softening.
“Don’t worry, honey. You’re the prettiest thing in this room, and that’s saying something with these supermodels around. Own it.”
I managed a tiny smile for Marco’s sake, small and polite, the kind I’d practiced back home when the sisters at the orphanage asked if I was okay even when I wasn’t.
But inside, my stomach twisted into cold, tight knots.
Across the massive studio, past the swirl of half-dressed bodies, the blinding flashes, the endless sea of perfect skin and confident poses. I could still feel Ravial’s absence like a missing limb. The spot beside me felt hollow, as if the air itself had been carved out when he walked away with Valentina’s hand on his arm.
I drew a shaky breath, telling myself to relax. He’d come back soon. He always did. I just had to wait, like a good little lamb.
Then, just as my shoulders started to loosen, a hushed whisper drifted from two assistants nearby. They were huddled close, heads bent over a glowing phone screen, thinking no one important was listening.
“They’re saying Mr. Ashbourne only showed up because of what happened to Celeste Rey,” one murmured, voice low but laced with thrill. “Overdose… then jumped naked from her penthouse window. Rumor is she was sleeping with him, trading her body for those huge covers. And when he suddenly got married, he dropped her cold. Couldn’t take the rejection… so she ended it all.”
“Shh…lower your voice!” the other hissed, eyes darting nervously toward me. “His wife is right over there.”
“Shit…”
But the warning came too late.
The words slammed into me like ice water poured straight down my spine.
My blood turned to frost in my veins.