CHAPTER 3
CELESTE
The door bursts open.
“Celeste!”
Two staff members rush in, faces flushed. They stop dead at the sight of me—hair a mess, lipstick smeared, dress half-zipped. Their eyes flick to Adrian leaning against the wall, shirt wrinkled, hair mussed, chest still rising too fast.
Silence.
“Fix her,” Adrian says, voice sharp.
They scramble. One...