Chapter 1: Donovan Fordham
1426 Words
The melody of the piano and violin played a lullaby, letting notes fly around the venue filled with beautiful people feasting their eyes on jewelry that was about to be sold.
“Flawless,” uttered Celine, as her eyes fell on a festoon necklace, showered in expensive design from white diamonds to pink.
Automatically, her hand reached for her collar, where she could picture herself wearing it around her neck.
But Celine knew she would never touch it—let alone hold it.
As much as her focus was driven by the sight of real beauty, the alluring scent of sandalwood and manliness stole her attention.
Her bronze eyes landed on a man in a dashing ash-grey three-piece suit.
Standing less than an inch shorter than her, holding a glass of champagne in his hand, looking so perfect in every way.
Only if I forgot to wear four-inch heels, he’d be taller than I am, mentally noted Celine, which caused her to frown.
“I can foresee that pretty little thing belongs to its rightful owner.”
That heroic baritone voice came from his naturally reddish lips. His eyes were colder than the blue sea, but hotter than the yellow sun. So fetching.
“Do you find it attractive?”
Lifting a penciled eyebrow, Celine glanced at his charming aura and nodded her head.
“Very,” answered Celine.
“Then I’m glad to tell you that I’m the owner of that brilliant necklace.” He held out his hand, offering a small but bewitching smile. “Donovan Fordham.”
Hanging midair, his hand waited for a shake—yet Celine hesitated at the slightest thought of touch.
“I don’t shake hands, Mr. Fordham.”
“Would you rather accept a torrid kiss instead?”
The jaunty reply caught her off guard.
Never was she used to a man that talked so informally in the world she and her husband lived in. And Donovan... his air was different.
Withdrawing his hand, he narrowed his deep-set eyes that spoke of the ocean’s depth.
“For a woman involved in this life, you don’t seem to be social.”
“I’m not,” she retorted. “But my husband is.”
As if it turned him off, Donovan’s expression shifted—but he shook it off a millisecond later. “Of course, a beautiful woman like you would be claimed by a man.”
“How lucky he is,” he added and sipped the last drop of his champagne.
“But not for me,” Celine mumbled.
Her eyes wandered the room, trying to spot the man who slipped the ring on her finger.
Celine could feel Donovan’s stare linger beside her.
“Ah! The problem with all men devoted to capital—the wives have been suffering under their hands,” he chuckled.
Placing the empty glass on a tray brought by a waiter, Donovan stepped closer to the stand, close enough that his breath fogged the glass that protected it.
“I find no jewelry you wear would ever compare to my collection,” he said before turning to look at her with adoration. “Twelve million dollars, sold to you.”
For some reason, it made Celine let out a graceful laugh. “Oh, Mr. Fordham, you have the humor.”
“Not the first time I was told.”
Lifting a finger, a hostess came in and greeted them.
“Wrap this up, please. It’s sold.”
Her smile faded.
Celine looked at Donovan, utterly confused.
“I’m sorry, sir, but the auction hasn’t started yet.”
“Whose name is listed as the owner of this item?”
The hostess checked her board and stated Donovan’s full name.
“You’re looking at him now, sweetheart.”
Face reddening from embarrassment, the hostess prepped what he asked and left to process it.
“Are you mad?” asked Celine. “You bought your own item for a woman you don’t even know?”
“You liked it. I’m giving it to you,” he said. “I’m generous—as long as you agree to the catch.”
“A catch?” she repeated.
“I’m asking you to have dinner with me, Ms. Celine Ellington.”
Showing him her wedding band indirectly, Celine shook her head. “My husband is a devoted businessman. He likes the dollar sign. And it’s Celine Iversen,” she corrected.
Finding him unbelievable.
“As for you, Mr. Fordham, you don’t wear the cuffs of a businessman. What I see is a man trying to get in thousands of women’s pants using your charm and money.”
“Always works, no doubt,” he simply, but proudly uttered.
“To burst your overwhelmingly-sized bubble, I’m not like those women you’ve preyed on.”
Lifting her chin, she was about to pivot and leave, but a hand held her by the arm.
It stiffened her. She was never touched by any other man—even her own husband barely held her.
“You’re touching me, Mr. Fordham.”
“You’ll like it once you stop fighting that desire,” he smirked. “I know you want me.”
“The height of your confidence is taller than you,” Celine grimaced and pulled her arm from his grip.
“The confidence I have is because I know the challenge you’re giving me will be worth it, eventually.”
“You’re a creep.”
“And I’m handsome," he retorted.
Trashing all the compliments Celine mentally noted about him, it all vanished in the air when he claimed the praise himself.
“I see loneliness in your eyes. May I assume you haven’t been... filled correctly the past few days? Maybe weeks?”
His guess wasn’t wrong, and the truth spilled when Celine’s eyes betrayed her—showing off the longing for genuine affection.
“Or is it that you were never given a great night in years?” The tip of his index finger caressed the skin of her forearm.
The electrifying sensation wheeled through her system with just that simple touch.
“I can help you ease that loneliness,” he offered. “Only if you let me in, of course.”
Wearing the sweetest smile on his face, Donovan waited for an answer.
But before Celine could utter a thing, a hand snaked around her waist and pulled her away from Donovan.
“Hector!" Donovan greeted her husband in a vexing tone. “How ungrateful of you to abandon a lovely woman?”
“And I believe you’re flirting with the wrong lady, Donovan.”
Celine was caught in the middle of a wolf fight—standing between two dangerous men.
“Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” Trying to convince her husband to back off, she held him by the shoulder. “Hector...”
“The lady’s asking for peace,” Donovan said, showing him a peace sign with two fingers. “A good dog listens well.”
“You have no respect. Who do you think you are?” Hector gritted through his teeth.
“I’m Donovan Fordham. But most people like to stress me as a young philanthropist, a playboy, and a tall and handsome billionaire.” Face-slapping everything he owned, Donovan boasted. “I think you know who I am, Hector.”
Flashing a grin that caused pure annoyance, he leaned to the side to meet her gaze—and winked.
Celine saw the way her husband’s jaw clenched, and the hand resting on her waist tightened—hurting her.
“You stay away from my wife. You stay away from me,” Hector stated. “And we won’t have any problem.”
Donovan protruded his lower lip and shrugged. He watched them walk away from his side.
“Don’t ever go near that man. Why are you even entertaining him?”
“Hector, he won’t take me from you. I love you.”
Celine cupped his face and planted a kiss—but Hector neglected it and joined the other associates.
Left standing alone once again, Celine’s eyes lifted—and there he was.
Donovan, with his menacingly charming eyes, undressing her with his gaze.
He saluted her before sashaying his way out of the hallway.
Right then and there, Celine questioned herself—her faithfulness and loyalty to a man who had failed to see her true worth.
And she was starting to consider Donovan... The one man who made her feel something…
Even if it was wrong.
- Writer
