Lucas Vs Celeste, his Ex

Maeve's POV

The brushed-steel doors slid open with a soft chime, letting us out onto an upper terrace where the night air felt crisp and cool against my flushed skin. Lucas pushed open a pair of heavy glass double doors, and my feet rooted to the stone floor. My jaw dropped as I took in the view in front of us.

A massive rooftop garden stretched out across the top of the mansion. Warm fairy lights wove through thick green vines along wooden pergolas, glowing like trapped stars above our heads. Near the center, a long banquet table groaned under silver platters of food that belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine. Groups of well-dressed relatives stood around chatting and laughing, the clink of crystal glasses mixing with the sound of little kids darting between legs. Beyond the stone ledge, the city skyline glittered against the dark horizon, making this rooftop feel like a private kingdom floating above the rest of the world.

A tight knot twisted in the pit of my stomach. Big crowds always set my teeth on edge, and tonight, the sheer number of rich, unfamiliar faces made the air feel thin. Without thinking, I pressed closer to Lucas's side. He must have felt the tremor in my shoulders, because his fingers tightened around mine in a firm, steady grip.

Before we could take three steps into the garden, a woman broke away from a nearby group. It was Penelope, Lucas's mother. I recognized her face right away from my childhood. People in town used to talk about her like she was a saint—graceful, kind, the woman who handed out charity baskets every Christmas and Easter with a warm smile that never looked down on anyone. When I was little, I used to watch her from across the street and wonder if my own mom would have been just like her if she hadn't died so young. That old ache pinched at my chest, and I forced it back down where it belonged.

“Lucas! My boy!” Penelope called out, hurrying through the crowd with her arms wide open, the hem of her silk dress floating around her ankles.

Right on her heels was Lucas's younger sister, Lyra. She had shot up since the last time I saw her. Back then, she was a skinny ten-year-old in pigtails tearing down the sidewalk on an expensive bike; now she was sixteen or seventeen, tall and striking, with the exact same warm honey-brown eyes as her brother.

The two of them practically tackled him. Penelope cupped Lucas's jaw and peppered his cheeks with kisses while Lyra latched onto his free arm, talking a mile a minute about how much broader his shoulders had gotten.

Lucas let out a low, half-hearted groan and tried to duck his head. “Mom, come on—stop. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Penelope just laughed and reached up to mess up his hair. “You’ll always be my baby, no matter how big you get.”

He rolled his eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Watching them made a hollow feeling open up inside me. I had never known what it felt like to have a parent fuss over me like that—I had only ever stood in the hallway watching my dad pour all that warmth onto my step-siblings. I stood quiet beside Lucas, feeling like a stray cat that had wandered into someone else's family portrait. Yet through all the hugging, Lucas never once let go of my hand, keeping me anchored right next to him.

When Penelope finally stepped back to catch her breath, her eyes landed on me. Her brows drew together as a spark of recognition lit up her face. “I know you…”

I offered a small, polite smile. “Good evening, ma’am. I’m Maeve Vance.”

Her eyes flew wide, brightening all at once. “Maeve! Oh, darling, how are you?”

Before I could answer, she pulled me into a tight hug. A soft cloud of rose perfume wrapped around me, warm and comforting. There was nothing fake in the way she held me, and for a brief second, I let myself lean into her embrace. When she pulled back, she kept her hands on my arms, looking me up and down with a mother's gentle pride.

“Look at you! All grown up and so beautiful. It’s been… what, a hundred years?” She let out a light, easy laugh that made me chuckle right along with her.

“Nice seeing you too,” I said softly.

Penelope's gaze bounced between the two of us, one eyebrow arching high as she spotted our linked hands. “And what are you doing here… with Lucas? Last I remember, you two couldn’t stand each other. You were like cats and dogs growing up, always clawing and snapping.”

Lucas gave my hand a firm squeeze and tugged me right up against his side. “Well, things change, Mom. She’s my girlfriend now.”

Penelope's jaw dropped, one hand flying to her collarbone in pure shock. “What? Oh my…”

“Did you say girlfriend?”

The sharp voice cut straight through our little circle, dripping with nasty disbelief. We all turned our heads to see Celeste strolling toward us. She was poured into a tight, low-cut dress that left almost nothing to the imagination, her blonde hair pinned up in a sleek bun and her makeup painted on like battle armor. She twirled a glass of red wine by the stem, her gray eyes raking over me from head to toe with undisguised malice.

Beside me, Lucas stiffened. His arm came around my waist, his big hand settling heavy and possessive on my hip to pull me flush against him. When I glanced up at his face, his expression was blank, his brown eyes cold and flat as he looked at his ex. But down at my waist, his fingers dug into my skin through the fabric of my dress—just a fraction too hard, like a man hanging onto a ledge to keep from falling.

That tight grip gave him away. It screamed that seeing her still got under his skin, that he wasn't over her at all. And god, I would be lying if that realization didn't slice straight through my chest, leaving my heart raw and bleeding.

Celeste's cold eyes lingered on me for a beat before sliding up to Lucas's face. A smug little grin curved her painted lips, the look of a woman who knew every weak spot in his armor and knew he was still tangled up in the mess she had left behind.

She gave her wine glass a lazy swirl, her voice syrupy sweet on top and pure poison underneath. “Come on, Lucas. You could do so much better. I mean, from me… to this?”

She dragged her gaze down my body a second time, curling her lip as if my mere presence was stinking up the rooftop. Heat crept up my neck. Sure, I had plenty of insecurities about my curves and my cheap clothes, and I usually hid under baggy layers just to stay off people's radar. Still, I wasn't blind. Take away her trust-fund wardrobe, the spray tan, and the caked-on contour, and she had nothing on me. Being broke had just kept me in the background. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, forcing back the sharp remark sitting on the tip of my tongue.

Lucas rolled his eyes and let out a low hiss under his breath. “What do you want, Celeste? And where’s that fiancé of yours hiding?”

A throaty laugh came out of her, grating on my ears like nails down a chalkboard. She tilted her chin back and reached up with manicured fingers to tug a loose strand of hair from her bun, acting like she was posing for a camera crew.

“I knew it. You dragged her here just to make me jealous.” She let out a soft scoff and took a slow sip of wine, peering over the rim at us. “That’s clever, however, unnecessary. You should give it up already. What’s it been… four years? Babe, move on. I did, a long time ago.”

Lucas cocked his head to the side, flashing her a cold smirk. “And what makes you think I haven’t?”

Celeste waved her free hand toward me as if swatting a fly. “You’re literally with this girl. If you’d shown up with a model, someone… credible, maybe I’d buy it. But her? Please. It’s obvious, you’re just trying to rile me up. Sorry, but it won’t work. Don’t bother.”

My fingers curled into tight fists at my sides. I sucked in a sharp breath, tired of biting my tongue, and took half a step forward to meet her glare head-on.

“You seem awfully bothered for someone who’s supposedly moved on. You could have minded your business, and avoided us if you weren’t.”

The smug grin slipped right off her face. “Excuse me?”

I held my ground, squaring my shoulders even as my pulse hammered in my throat. “I mean, if you’re really so over him, why do you care who he brings home? And for the record, you’re not all that, Celeste. Maybe try accepting that he’s moved on, just like you claim you have.”

The words tumbled out before I could second-guess them, and I didn't regret a single syllable. Back in high school, Celeste had taken every chance she got to tear down my looks while acting like she was God's gift to the world. Nobody had ever put her in her place back then, and it felt damn good to finally fire back and defend the man I loved.

Ugly red blotches bloomed across Celeste's cheeks. Around us, the background chatter quieted down as nearby relatives turned their heads to watch the train wreck.

“How dare you?” Celeste spat out, pulling her free hand back like a striking snake and swinging her open palm toward my face in a vicious arc.

I barely had time to flinch before Lucas moved. His hand shot out with lethal speed, clamping around her wrist mid-air an inch from my cheek.

His voice dropped to a dark, dangerous growl that vibrated right through my ribs. “Don’t you dare. Lay a finger on her, and I swear I’ll forget you’re a woman.”

Damn, Papì. A sudden wave of heat rushed straight to my core at the rough edge in his tone and the fierce glare in his eyes. Not the time, Mae, I scolded myself, though my racing heart didn't listen.

Celeste wrenched her arm out of his grip and rubbed her reddened wrist, shooting daggers at me while I stood tucked behind Lucas's shoulder with a forced smirk plastered on my face to hide my shaking knees. Her gray eyes narrowed on me with nasty triumph, like she had just dug up my deepest secret.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you? I know your type. You’ve wanted him all those years while we were together. You just waited for a chance to crawl into his life.” She paused, scraping her hateful gaze over my face once more. “Well, newsflash, sweetheart, he still loves me. You’re just a tool for his bed and my jealousy.”

I rolled my eyes to play it off, yet her words struck a hidden chord deep in my chest. Was I really nothing more than a tool? It wasn't even about his bed—Lucas hadn't laid a finger on me like that. We hadn't shared a real kiss, or even a real hug that wasn't part of the act; every time his hand brushed my waist or held mine, there was a practical reason behind it. Being a prop to make her jealous made total sense. Still, when I lay awake alone in my room at night, tangling my legs in the sheets and whispering his name into my pillow... didn't that mean I was letting myself be used anyway? He had walked straight into my heart years ago and wrecked me from the inside out without ever having a clue.

Beside me, a muscle ticked in Lucas's clenched jaw. His voice came out sharp and low, carrying clearly in the quiet pocket of the garden.

“Don’t blame her, Celeste. You cheated. You kissed my cousin, hopped on him like our whole future—the plans we busted our asses for—meant jack shit to you. So don’t stand here playing the innocent victim card.”

Celeste's eyes widened. For a split second, raw hurt and regret cracked through her arrogant mask before she forced her chin back up.

Right on cue, Lucas's cousin Damian strolled over in a sharp tailored suit, carrying himself like he owned the whole damn building. He slid a possessive arm around Celeste's waist and pulled her against his hip, a slow smirk spreading across his face like a shark catching the scent of blood in the water as his eyes bounced between us.

“What’s all this?” Damian asked.

The air between us turned thick and suffocating. My palm grew slick with sweat as I squeezed Lucas's hand tighter, my heart hammering against my ribs as a cold wave of dread washed over me, leaving me to wonder if this ugly clash was merely the warmup for whatever hell was waiting for us next.