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Thorns Grow After Betrayal (Celeste and Chester) novel Chapter 58

Celestine's striking, fox-like eyes were wide with astonishment.

Her apartment building had just two units per floor.

And the only person who lived next door was Clifton.

Clifton… Mr. Prescott…

She whipped her head toward Gideon.

No way. It couldn't be that much of a coincidence, could it?

Gideon arched an eyebrow, his deep gray eyes almost as if he could read her mind. "It's exactly that much of a coincidence."

He strode out of the elevator without another word.

Celestine stared at his broad back, suddenly remembering all those times Clifton had rambled about his second grandson—the one who was supposedly about to take religious vows and retreat from the world.

So it's him?

Her mind started to merge the two images together.

She never would have imagined the world could be this small.

Steeling herself, she stepped out of the elevator.

Gideon was leaning lazily against his front door, watching her intently, making no move to go inside.

"What is it?" Celestine kept her gaze down, her voice barely above a whisper.

She frantically tried to recall whether she'd ever said anything embarrassing in front of this grandfather-grandson duo.

Gideon glanced at the basil in her arms. "Weren't you going to give that to the gentleman next door?"

Her eyelashes fluttered. "Oh—right. Yes… Thank you for helping."

She quickly shoved the basil into his hands, turned, unlocked her own door, and all but fled inside.

He lingered in the hallway, staring at her closed door. After a moment, he let out a low, amused snort.

Back inside, Celestine set down her things.

She felt as if all the strength had drained from her body and collapsed onto the sofa.

Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying!

A delayed blush spread across her cheeks, hot and burning.

Whatever plans she'd made for tonight were officially postponed.

She threw together a quick bowl of pasta for dinner.

At nine o'clock, her phone chimed with a message from Gideon.

[Mr. Shield]: I'm heading out.

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