Chapter 57
Chester eyed Zeke warily. “Did you piss anyone off lately?”
Zeke racked his brain. Aside from that deadbeat chef at the restaurant last night, there wasn’t anyone that came to mind.
“That guy? No way he has that kind of pull.”
The mention of last night jogged another memory for Zeke. “Damn it, running into Celestine was pure bad luck. The deal was right there in my hands, and she managed to ruin it by morning!”
Chester’s brow furrowed. “What does she have to do with this? She is still my wife, Zeke. Watch your mouth.”
“Come on, Chester. It’s not like you love her. Why are you always defending that woman?” Zeke’s frustration bubbled over. “Joanna’s put up with your family’s crap for ten years because of you!”
“Enough!” Chester’s tone turned icy, shutting Zeke down. “We’re talking business, not your personal vendettas. Focus on the deal, not the women.”
Zeke knew he’d crossed a line and fell silent.
Still, if Celestine hadn’t gotten in the way, he and Chester wouldn’t be at odds like this. It was all her fault.
Last night’s incident at the Watersedge Grillhouse had already become the talk of the town. Someone dug up the fact that the plaque was addressed to Zeke. His usual rivals had a field day, mocking him relentlessly,
Damn it. He wasn’t about to let this slide.
Outside the apartment building.
Celestine awkwardly pulled/herself out of Gideon’s arms. “S–sorry, Mr. Prescott. Did I hurt you? What are you doing here, anyway?”
“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried–I’m Mr. Shield, remember?” Gideon straightened his rumpled collar.
Celestine forced a laugh. Why did it feel like he just wouldn’t let this go?
Well, to be fair, he had, stepped in to help her more than once. Maybe she owed him some thanks. Maybe she should light a candle for him at church or something, just
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Chapter 57S
to.be safe.
An uneasy silence settled between them.
Gideon’s gaze landed on the pot of purple basil in her arms. “Not feeling well lately?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Celestine glanced down, following his eyes, and explained, “It’s for the gentleman next door. He’s not been well, so I thought I’d bring him something.”
“You’re quite the Good Samaritan,” Gideon observed.
Celestine smiled politely, but she couldn’t shake the feeling there was more behind his words.
Suddenly, Gideon added, “I’m here to visit my grandfather.”
“Well, aren’t you thoughtful yourself,” she replied.
“Runs in the family,” he said, deadpan.
Celestine silently cursed herself. What was she even saying? But the pressure he radiated made it so hard to think straight.
“Alright then, I’ll let you get to your visit. I should be heading home,” she said, eager
to escape.
She hurried into the apartment building, mentally replaying every awkward second of their conversation and wishing she could crawl into a hole.
She hit the elevator’s close button, hoping for a quick getaway.
But the doors slid open again–and there he was, his striking features framed by the doorway, tall and imposing in a black trench coat.
Celestine blinked. He wasn’t about to chase her down, was he?
Gideon lingered outside the elevator, expression unreadable. She thought: Heartless, running off so quickly. Bringing a gift for the old man, but nothing for him. She’d promised to take him out to dinner and hadn’t mentioned it since. All that talk about saving up for the best doctor for his scars–was that just to make him feel better?
Gideon’s gray eyes flickered with hurt.
Celestine caught it and quickly stammered, “I didn’t realize your grandfather lived here too…”
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“Yeah,” he said quietly.
He stepped into the elevator, not pressing any buttons.
Celestine hesitated, unsure what to say as the elevator ascended. When it finally reached her floor, she gathered her courage. “Mr. Prescott, this is my stop. Don’t forget to press your floor.”
“No need,” Gideon replied. “My grandfather lives here too.”
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