Celine sat on the edge of Stacy's oversized bed, staring blankly at the floor. Boxes of clothes, some unpacked, some half-stored, were scattered around the room like a small storm had passed through.
Stacy, sprawled across the bed with her laptop open and a cup of coffee in hand, glanced up with a knowing smile.
"You're staring at those clothes like they personally offended you," Stacy said.
Celine gave a half-hearted chuckle. "It's not the clothes… it's me. What if they don't like me?"
Stacy rolled her eyes, sitting up and closing the laptop. "Celine, stop it. They're human beings, not fashion critics. And besides, you're not just any woman, you're the woman August has chosen. That already puts you ahead of, I don't know, a billion other candidates."
Celine fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, voice low. "Yeah, but what if they notice… my past? Or that I'm not… you know, like Marissa?"
Stacy snorted. "First, you're not Marissa. Second, who cares? Do you think August is gonna bring someone home just to make a point? Girl, he's already hooked. They can either like you or not. But they'll notice the difference, because you actually make him happy."
Celine sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. "I just… I want them to like me. I don't want to be some… disappointment. What if I say something stupid? Or look like a fool?"
Stacy stood and grabbed a pile of clothes from the chair. "Okay, first of all, you're panicking over nothing. Second, fashion is everything here. And I mean it. If you look amazing, they won't even notice a single other thing. Trust me. This," she held up a soft, cream-colored blouse with subtle detailing, "is perfect. Chic, understated, approachable."
Celine took it, eyes flicking nervously to the mirror. "And you really think… they'd like me?"
Stacy smiled warmly, pushing a strand of hair behind Celine's ear. "Of course they will. But let's be real, if they don't, it's their loss. Look, you're smart, funny, kind, and you make August… well, you make him August. That counts for more than any first impression."
Celine's lips twitched into a tiny smile. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not easy," Stacy said, tugging on her own chic scarf and winking. "But I promise, we're gonna make this a power move. Shoes, accessories, subtle jewelry… not too much, not too little. You'll walk in there looking like someone who belongs, and guess what? You do belong."
Celine exhaled and shook her head. "I still feel like I'm faking it."
"Fake it 'til you make it, girl," Stacy said with a grin. "And don't forget, August already likes you. That's the real armor. You're not walking into a battlefield; you're walking into a dinner that he wants you at. That's huge."
Celine held up the cream blouse in front of her, staring at her reflection. "Okay… and the hair? What if I look plain?"
Stacy walked over, squinted, and tilted Celine's chin up. "Not plain. Natural, approachable. Subtle waves, light makeup, nothing screaming for attention. You want them to see you, not a character you made up."
Celine nodded slowly, absorbing it. "I… I guess I just don't want them to think I'm… not enough. Or—"
"Stop," Stacy interrupted, holding up a finger. "No 'not enough' tonight. You're going there as the woman August cares about. Nothing else matters. And if they have a problem with it, that's on them."
Celine laughed softly, the tension easing a little. "You really do make it sound so simple."
"Simple, yes. Easy, no," Stacy said with a wink. "Now, shoes. This is your moment. Own it."
Celine looked at her reflection again, the blouse on, hair done in soft waves, subtle earrings catching the light. She felt… almost ready.
"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'll go. I'll do it. I'll survive."
Stacy clapped her hands and grinned. "No, honey, you'll slay. And when you do, don't forget to text me every detail. I live for this stuff."
Celine smiled, feeling some of her nerves finally settle. "Thanks, Stacy. Really. I… I just hope they like me."
Stacy laughed. "If they don't, I'll personally haunt them. But trust me, they will. Now go, before you change your mind."
Celine grabbed her bag, giving Stacy one last uncertain but grateful look. "Alright. Here goes nothing."
And just like that, the nerves, the fear, and the self-doubt were bundled up… replaced by a small, shaky excitement.
Because the next step was inevitable: meeting August's family.
And Celine, for all her worry, couldn't deny it, she wanted to do this. She wanted to be part of this life.
August's car was still running outside when Celine adjusted her bag nervously, glancing one last time at the messy but familiar living room.
A knock at the door made her heart skip. She opened it slowly, and there he was, August Creed, casually perfect as always, yet there was something in the way he was looking at her that made her stomach twist.
Her breath caught.
He didn't speak at first. He just looked. Eyes sweeping over her, taking her in from head to toe.
And for a heartbeat, the world shrank until it was just the two of them.
"You… wow," he finally said, his voice low, rough with that subtle warmth that always made her pulse jump. "You look… breathtaking."
Celine felt her cheeks heat instantly. She opened her mouth to say something, but words refused to form.
August took a step closer, and she could smell the faint, comforting scent of him, something clean, something familiar.
"You mean it?" she whispered, barely audible.
He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down. Their foreheads touched first, soft and grounding, and then… his lips brushed hers.
Soft. Gentle. But lingering.
Not a quick peck. Not a fleeting hello.
A kiss that said I've missed this. I want this. I'm here.
Celine's eyes fluttered closed, and she didn't move away. Instead, she let herself melt into it, her hands lightly brushing against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of him.
The kiss deepened just a fraction, slow and unhurried, like they were the only two people in the world. The kind that stretched time, leaving her breathless but wanting more, a warmth pooling in her chest.
Finally, they pulled back just slightly, foreheads still touching. Her lips tingled, her heart raced, and for a second she forgot everything.
A playful whistle cut through the quiet.
Celine's eyes shot open. Stacy, sitting on the couch with a wide grin, gave a teasing clap. "About time! I was starting to think you'd just stare at each other forever."
Celine's blush deepened, her hand flying to cover her face. "Stacy!" she groaned, mortified.
August chuckled softly, his hand still lightly brushing hers. "Ignore her," he murmured, voice low and warm. "She's harmless… mostly."
Stacy laughed. "Mostly! That's my favorite line! Celine, don't tell me you're blushing at him!"
Celine huffed, still hiding her smile behind her hand, while August just shook his head, amused, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"You ready to go?" he asked gently, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Celine nodded, her lips twitching into a small, delighted smile. "Yeah… I think so."
And as they stepped out toward the car, the lingering warmth of that kiss stayed between them, a quiet promise of everything still to come.
August started the engine, the low purr filling the quiet of Stacy's driveway. Celine buckled up, a little flutter of nerves in her stomach.
"You sure you're ready?" he asked, eyes flicking to her with a teasing lift in his brow.
Celine smirked. "Ready-ish. But I might need a warning if your music is terrible."
"Terrible? You picked last time, don't act like I don't remember," he said, laughing.
She rolled her eyes, reaching over to tap the touchscreen. "Fine. But this one, this one stays."
The opening beat of a song started, and Celine's face lit up. "Finally! This is so my jam."
August chuckled, leaning back, one hand on the wheel, the other brushing against hers. Their fingers met. He didn't pull away. "You have excellent taste," he said, thumb grazing hers lightly.
Celine felt her cheeks warm. "Oh, you're just saying that."
"Nope," he said, eyes flickering to hers, playful. "Not this time."
She laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly. "You're impossible."
"And yet, you like it," he teased, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
They laughed, sang along to the song quietly, and teased each other over the lyrics. Celine swerved slightly to dodge an imaginary note, August playfully honking.
"You're cheating! You skipped my favorite part!" she protested.
"Cheating? No way! You just need better coordination," he shot back, grinning.
The car filled with their laughter, easy and natural. Their hands stayed together, fingers intertwined, and every now and then, their knees brushed as they shifted in their seats. Celine felt the warmth of his presence, the comfort of him so close, and the thrill of their playful tension.
As the song changed, August leaned slightly closer. "I could get used to this," he murmured.
Celine blushed, turning her gaze to the window. "Get used to what?"
"This," he said simply, hand still holding hers, fingers threading naturally. "You, me, music, laughter… no deadlines, no problems. Just this."
Her heart fluttered. "I… I like it too."
For several minutes, they fell into a quiet rhythm, joking and teasing, hands together, smiles shared. Then, as the driveway began to widen, she noticed something in the distance. Rolling lawns stretched endlessly, dotted with groves of ancient trees whose branches swayed gently in the breeze. Fountains sparkled in the sunlight, sending arcs of water into perfectly manicured ponds. Flowerbeds of every color framed winding cobblestone paths that disappeared into secluded corners, hinting at private benches and hidden nooks. Sculptures peeked from the greenery, and the soft hum of nature filled the air, birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the faint scent of jasmine drifting from the gardens.
And then, looming beyond the greenery, came the house. Massive and elegant, its stone walls gleamed, tall arched windows reflected the sunlight, and the slate roof rose proudly above it all. Balconies lined with wrought-iron railings overlooked terraces and manicured lawns, while a grand fountain marked the center of the circular driveway. The estate radiated wealth without shouting, grand, tasteful, timeless.
Celine's breath caught. "It's… huge. And… beautiful."
August's lips twitched in a small grin. "Almost there. You're gonna love the house… but first, a little nature for the soul. Mom loves it."
Celine's eyes took in the endless greenery, fountains, and elegant architecture, feeling both awed and a little overwhelmed.
He chuckled, squeezing her hand one last time. "Yeah… my dad would do anything to make my mom happy. And now, I get to share all of this with you."
Celine's lips curved into a small, nervous smile. "I think I can handle that… as long as you're with me."
He looked at her, that teasing glint in his eyes softening. "Always."
***
The car wound its way up the final stretch of the estate driveway, the house looming larger with every turn. Celine's fingers nervously fiddled with her bag strap.
"Hey… you forgot something," August said casually, glancing at her with a small smirk.
Celine blinked, confused. "Forgot… what?"
He reached into the passenger seat and pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped package. "This," he said, handing it to her gently. "Thought it might be useful. Don't worry, I've got your back."
Celine's cheeks flushed as she took it, fingers brushing his. "Oh… thank you. I—I totally forgot."
August's eyes crinkled in that familiar, teasing smile. "I know. Relax. That's why I'm here."
She exhaled, trying to steady her racing heart. With the gift in her hands, a small bouquet with a box of chocolates peeking out, she felt slightly more prepared, but nerves still fluttered in her chest.
"You're going to be fine," he murmured, his thumb brushing over hers briefly. "Just… be yourself. That's more than enough."
Celine nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay… I'll try."
As they approached the grand front entrance, the tall doors opened, revealing the warm, polished interior. Her eyes widened slightly, taking in the ornate chandeliers, the sweeping staircase, and the subtle elegance that spoke of wealth without ostentation.
August held the car door for her. "After you," he said softly.
Celine stepped out, gift in hand, and felt a flicker of panic. His parents, and possibly Malcolm, would be watching her every move. She was used to negotiating with clients, sealing deals, and commanding rooms, but this was personal.
"I'm nervous," she admitted quietly, leaning slightly toward him.
He smiled, hand brushing the small of her back. "Good. That means you care. Just… breathe. You've got this."
She swallowed, clutching the gift a little tighter. "I hope so. I've met plenty of in-laws before, but… this feels different."
August's gaze softened. "It's different because it matters. And because I want you here. Don't forget that."
Celine let a small smile escape. "Thanks… I needed that."
He chuckled softly. "That's what I'm here for."
And with that, they stepped through the grand doors together, her carrying the thoughtful gift he'd rescued, him by her side, steady and reassuring, ready to face the family she'd been nervous about but slowly beginning to trust she could charm.
August led Celine through the grand foyer, her heels clicking softly on the polished marble floors. The house smelled faintly of fresh flowers and something rich, leather, wood, and a faint whiff of his mother's perfume. Her stomach fluttered. She had met clients, investors, even intimidating business tycoons—but this? This felt different. A whole room, or rather, two people, watching her.
In the living area, August's mother stood tall and composed. She wore a cream silk blouse tucked into a high-waisted forest-green trouser, perfectly tailored, with subtle gold jewelry that caught the light with every movement. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek chignon, and her eyes, sharp and lively, studied Celine with curiosity and a hint of amusement.
August's father sat in a high-backed leather armchair, newspaper in hand, reading quietly. The man's dark hair had flecks of silver at the temples, his jawline sharp, his posture straight and commanding. Celine instantly realized where August had inherited that perfect blend of strong features and calm confidence. Even now, with the newspaper lifted, his piercing gaze flicked toward her, assessing yet not unkind.
Celine's nerves tightened. She gripped the small bouquet August had reminded her to bring, feeling suddenly hyper-aware of her outfit, her hair, and the way she carried herself.
August brushed her hand briefly, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Relax," he murmured, a teasing warmth in his voice. "Trust me."
Celine forced a nod, taking a shaky breath.
He stepped forward, breaking the tension smoothly. "Hi, Mom. Looking pretty as always."
His mother's lips curved into a warm, approving smile. "August," she said lightly, eyes flicking toward Celine, studying her with the practiced scrutiny of someone used to reading people.
Celine swallowed hard, the bouquet feeling heavier in her hands. Malcolm hadn't arrived yet, so it was just her, August, and his parents.
August's father folded the newspaper, setting it aside, and stood. His presence filled the room: tall, calm, confident. He extended a hand toward Celine. "You must be Celine," he said, voice steady, carrying authority without intimidation.
Celine straightened. "Yes, sir. Celine Monroe, 32 years old," she said nervously, fumbling slightly with her words. "I… uh… I've met a lot of people, but this… is a bit nerve-wracking."
For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then August's mother laughed softly, the sound warm and melodic.
"Oh, I like this one," she said, walking gracefully toward Celine. "We are accommodating people, dear."
Celine exhaled, a laugh escaping despite her nerves. She instinctively lifted the bouquet. "I… brought a little something," she said, offering it to the mother.
Her mother's eyes softened as she took it. "How thoughtful! That's very kind of you."
Celine felt the tightness in her chest ease, remembering August's gentle squeeze of her hand and the warmth in his eyes. She straightened her shoulders and smiled, realizing she could actually breathe here, and maybe even charm them.
August stayed close by, subtly protective, a small approving nod flicking her way. She returned it with a shy smile, feeling the tension ebb and a quiet confidence bloom inside her.
Celine sat stiffly on the plush velvet chair, her fingers fidgeting slightly. The parlor felt grand, the sunlight streaming through tall windows, but the scrutinizing eyes of August's parents made her feel exposed.
His mother leaned forward, curiosity in her gaze. "So… tell me a little about yourself, Celine. Where are you from?"
Celine took a breath. "I'm from Brooklyn," she said softly, glancing at August for support. "My family is Catholic… very traditional. I… I've always loved designing, creating things, making spaces beautiful."
August's mother nodded, eyes twinkling. "I see. And your family? Are they still in Brooklyn?"
"Yes, ma," Celine replied.
August's mother's gaze softened slightly. Then she tilted her head, curiosity sharpening. "And… tell me, how did you meet my son?"
Celine's lips curved into a small, nervous smile. "Well… it's a little unusual," she admitted. "I actually ran into Liam on the roadside one day. He… uh… he fell, and… he cursed at me." She grimaced slightly, embarrassed, but shrugged. "It wasn't the best first impression. But… that's how I met him, and then August came along."
August's mother's lips curved in a small, knowing smile. "I see," she said softly, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Then she leaned forward playfully. "And… can you cook, Celine?"
Celine blinked, cheeks warming. "No, ma… but I can boil water," she said honestly.
His mother burst into a melodramatic laugh, wiping her eyes as though tears were forming from amusement. "Oh! That is priceless," she exclaimed, still giggling.
August's father chuckled from his armchair, folding his newspaper. "Well… at least she can feed herself," he said, a small grin tugging at his lips.
Celine's cheeks flushed crimson, and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed by the laughter. August, standing behind her, gave a small, reassuring smile, his eyes twinkling.
His mother waved her hand dramatically, as if trying to compose herself. "You're charming, dear… I can see why my son is so… taken with you," she said, still teasing lightly, her laughter subsiding into a warm smile.
Celine let out a small, relieved laugh. The tension eased slightly, between the humor, the warmth, and August's quiet presence, she felt… a little more at home.
it natural and professional:
The parlor had grown quieter after the laughter about cooking, the air warm with ease. August's father set aside his newspaper, eyes fixed on Celine with a keen, assessing look.
"Celine," he began, calm but curious, "I want to hear your perspective on business. Leadership, strategy… making money. What's your approach?"
Celine took a small breath, then leaned slightly forward, finding her voice. "Well… I think leadership is about balance," she began. "A good leader has vision, but also knows how to empower their team. You can't just demand results, you have to inspire people to achieve them. Communication and culture are just as important as strategy."
She paused, then added, more confidently, "And when it comes to making money… you have to understand value, timing, and opportunity. It's not just about chasing profit, but about creating sustainable growth, recognizing where investment matters, and knowing when to pivot. I focus on building systems that work, leveraging talent, and making calculated decisions that keep both the business and people thriving."
August's father's eyes narrowed slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Impressive," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You speak with clarity and confidence, and you understand both the human side and the financial side. That's rare. You have brains, and judgment."
Celine's cheeks warmed, and she glanced at August, who gave a subtle, approving nod from behind her. She let herself smile, quietly proud.
His mother leaned in, her eyes twinkling. "I see why my son is fond of you," she said, teasing lightly. "It's not just charm, is it?"
Celine shook her head with a small laugh. "Not entirely," she said. "I believe in being honest, working hard, and thinking strategically. That's what I try to do in work… and in life."
August's father gave her a slow, approving nod. "Good. That's the kind of thinking I respect. Shows maturity, intelligence… and the potential to handle pressure."
Celine exhaled softly, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. August's hand brushed hers reassuringly from behind, and she allowed herself a quiet, genuine smile.
The soft hum of conversation in the parlor was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.
A tall figure appeared, hair slightly disheveled, a suit casually slung over his shoulder. He moved with effortless ease, but there was a subtle weariness in his eyes. He looked strikingly familiar, Celine's gaze immediately registered the resemblance.
"Mom. Pops," he greeted, voice casual as he dropped onto a chair with a soft sigh, slumping as though the day had been long.
August, standing beside Celine, straightened slightly. Malcolm's eyes scanned the room lazily, then landed on August. A small smirk tugged at his lips before his gaze shifted to Celine. His eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Celine. Then his lips parted in genuine shock.
"You… you're Celine?" he asked, disbelief coloring his voice. "Impossible."
Celine blinked, a small nervous laugh escaping her. "Yes… that's me," she replied cautiously.
Malcolm leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. "I've seen you online," he said slowly, tone measuring. "You're… quite famous. All over the place, actually."
Celine felt her stomach tighten. "Well… I try to keep a low profile, but…" she trailed off, unsure how much to say.
His eyes flicked between her and August, an eyebrow raised. "Famous, huh? And you're… dating my brother? Really?" There was a hint of judgment in his tone, but it wasn't cruel, more skeptical curiosity, the way a protective sibling would approach someone who suddenly enters his family.
Celine swallowed, forcing herself to remain composed. "Yes… really," she said honestly. "But fame isn't… everything. I'm just me, Celine. I work hard, I care about people, and I care about him… and Liam."
Malcolm's eyes studied her for a long moment, his posture still casual but his gaze sharp. Finally, he let out a slow, measured sigh.
"Hmm… well," he said, half-grinning, half-evaluating. "I'll be watching. Famous or not… you've got a lot to prove in my book."
Celine's cheeks warmed, but a small, confident smile tugged at her lips. She met his gaze steadily. "I hope I'll have the chance," she said softly.
August, sitting beside her, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, a small smile tugging at his lips. Malcolm glanced at August and smirked faintly, clearly amused by his brother's patience with the situation.
The tension hung briefly in the air, but it wasn't hostile, just the natural judgment of a protective brother, testing the new person in his family while letting her charm and honesty begin to win him over.