Chapter 11: Ice Between Us

Killian stood by the expansive window of her bedroom, his tall figure silhouetted against the glittering cityscape below, his gaze fixed on the endless stream of lights, a chaotic symphony of movement. His fingers twitched restlessly at his sides, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within him, his mind replaying Celeste's unexpected visit over and over again, searching for a logical explanation, a hidden motive. 

It didn't make sense, the pieces of the puzzle refusing to fit together. Why now, after all these years of silence? Why would she suddenly appear, offering a cryptic warning about Adrian, when she had every reason to stay out of his life, to distance herself from the tangled web of their shared past? It wasn't like Celeste, a woman who calculated her every move, to meddle in affairs that didn't offer some form of personal gain, some strategic advantage. 

Luna sat on the edge of the bed, her posture tense, arms folded defensively across her chest, watching him with an intensity that mirrored his own. "You've been standing there, lost in thought, for the past ten minutes, Killian. What's on your mind?" she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and thinly veiled annoyance. 

He let out a slow, deliberate breath, attempting to regain his composure. "Celeste," he admitted, the name a heavy weight on his tongue.

Luna scoffed, shifting her position slightly, a defensive gesture. "Of course. Should I be jealous?" she retorted, her voice laced with a bitter sarcasm. 

Killian finally turned to face her, his expression unreadable, a carefully constructed mask that hid the conflicting emotions swirling within him. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, his voice firm but lacking conviction. 

She shrugged, feigning indifference, attempting to maintain a facade of nonchalance, but the way her fingers dug into her own arms, a subconscious gesture of anxiety, betrayed her carefully constructed composure. "I'm just saying—she was your fiancée, and now she suddenly shows up, out of the blue, warning us about Adrian. Seems like a lot to process," she pointed out, her voice laced with a hint of accusation. 

Killian didn't respond immediately, his silence a heavy presence in the room. Instead, he walked over and sat on the plush armchair across from her, his elbows resting on his knees, his posture radiating a thoughtful intensity. "She's playing a game, Luna. She always does," he finally said, his voice low and laced with a hint of warning.

Luna tilted her head. "And what's the prize this time?"

He looked at her, his blue eyes colder than usual. "That's what I don't know."

Luna sighed. "Well, whatever it is, it's not my problem. You deal with her."

He studied her, something unreadable flickering across his face. "And if she's telling the truth? If Adrian is planning something bigger?"

"Then we'll deal with it when it comes," she said, standing up and heading toward the walk-in closet. "I'm done discussing your ex."

Killian watched her disappear into the closet, his jaw clenching. He didn't like that Celeste had thrown a wrench into things—not because he cared about her, but because it stirred something in Luna. Something that made her walls go up even higher.

And the last thing he needed was more distance between them.

When Luna emerged a few minutes later, dressed in silk pajamas, she barely spared him a glance as she got into bed. Killian exhaled sharply before switching off the main light and getting in beside her. There was a stiff silence between them, a familiar one, filled with all the things they never said.

Luna turned to face away from him. "You don't have to sleep here. This is MY ROOM afterall. I know this marriage isn't real." 

She really does mind being in the same bed with him as there's an unexplainable sense of security when he is closer. But, does that really matter?

Killian stared at the ceiling. "We're married, Luna. Whether you like it or not."

"That doesn't mean we have to act like it."

His fingers curled into the sheets. "So you'd rather I leave?"

She didn't answer right away. Then, "I'd rather not pretend."

Something in him twisted. He turned his head slightly, watching the outline of her back in the dim light. "I'm not pretending."

Luna let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Of course you are, Killian. You think being in the same bed makes us husband and wife? You think sharing a house means we share anything at all?"

Killian inhaled deeply, his patience thinning. "What do you want me to say, Luna? That I regret this marriage? That I wish it never happened?"

She hesitated. Then whispered, "Don't you?"

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

Luna swallowed hard, rolling onto her back to look at him. "You still love her, don't you? Celeste."

His eyes darkened. "No."

"Then why are you so bothered by her appearance?"

"Because I don't trust her," he said bluntly. "And neither should you."

Luna searched his face, but his expression was unreadable, his cold mask firmly in place. She hated it. Hated that he always shut her out just when she thought she was starting to understand him.

"You know what I think?" she murmured. "I think you don't even know how to trust. Not her. Not me. Not anyone."

Killian turned fully, his arm resting under his head as he studied her. "Maybe I don't."

Luna let out a soft breath of frustration. "That's sad, Killian."

His lips curled into something almost resembling a smirk. "And yet, you married me anyway."

She shook her head, turning away again. "Not out of love."

The room went quiet once more. Killian closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle over him.

No, their marriage wasn't built on love. It wasn't built on trust or passion or the kind of connection other couples had. It was built on circumstances, on obligations, on a past that neither of them could escape.

And yet, as he lay there, listening to Luna's soft breathing, he couldn't help but wonder—

Why did it bother him so much?