The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(54)

“What did?”

“Your distraction.”

“If it worked, then why do you still look so troubled?”

Celine met Pippa’s worried blue eyes. “I hate being like this. It’s not . . . me. I feel like I’ve lost myself.”

“You’ve been through such an ordeal.”

“I know.” Celine bit back a spike of irritation. “I know.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?”

“I wish I could,” Celine said as she stared at the knife in her lap. “I just felt . . . threatened. As if I needed something to defend myself.”

“Has this happened before?” Pippa asked. “Since your recovery in the hospital?”

“No. But you’ve known for some time that I have these”—Celine searched for the words—“vivid dreams. Often I don’t remember what happened in them, but I always remember how I felt.”

“Frightened?”

Celine shook her head. “Powerful. As if I could destroy anything and everything in my path.” She hesitated. “These kinds of dreams have become more frequent since Michael and I went to dinner at Jacques’ last week.”

Alarm gathered at the bridge of Pippa’s nose. “Heavens, why would he take you there, of all places?” she blurted. Her hand flew to her mouth, as if to catch the words before they could spill.

Further proof that Pippa was hiding something. That those around Celine were keeping an important truth from her. “Was I not supposed to go to Jacques’?”

Pippa exhaled slowly. Bit her lower lip.

“There was a boy on the second floor,” Celine pressed, her gaze intense. “He knew me. I’m certain of it. And I knew him, though I cannot recall from where or from when.”

Pippa remained silent.

“Please tell me, Pippa. If you know something, please share it with me. I feel like I’m going mad. Like the world around me is conspiring to conceal the truth. I need to know the truth.” She moved to the edge of her seat. “Do I know that boy named Bastien? Tell me, once and for all.”

Pippa hooked a stray blond curl around an ear, her expression torn. “Yes. You know him.”

“Is he someone I should remember? Is he important?”

Another hesitation. “No. You shouldn’t remember him. He isn’t . . . good for you, dearest.”

“Does he know what happened to me?” Celine said. “If I ask him, can he tell me—”

Pippa stood in a rush. “No. He’s the reason you almost died, Celine. Please. I’m begging you. Stay away from him. He isn’t right for you. Knowing him brought you nothing but pain. There are so many suitable young gentlemen out there. Take your pick! Detective Grimaldi has moved heaven and earth to make sure you are safe. If you would only give—”

“‘Suitable young gentlemen’?” Celine scoffed. “You mean men like Phoebus.”

Pippa recoiled. “Do you find fault with him?”

“No. I simply don’t understand why you’re marrying someone you don’t love.”

It was a cruel thing to say. Celine knew it the instant she saw the blood drain from Pippa’s face. But Celine was angry. So very angry. As she suspected, everyone had lied to her.

Pippa had been lying to her this entire time.

“Real love isn’t like a fairy tale, Celine,” Pippa said, her tone clipped. “It isn’t this all-consuming force that blinds you to reason. Real love is a choice. And I choose to love Phoebus, even if he isn’t a knight in shining armor or a dark prince in a shadowy underworld. I don’t need such childish dreams to be happy. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

It was like a slap in Celine’s face. Pippa had never passed such judgment on her before. Celine stood, the pilfered knife falling to the carpeted floor. “I refuse to believe that Phoebus Devereux is your match. I think you’re terrified of being alone and have said yes to the first rich boy who asked. Like a coward, you’ve let fear make your decisions, Philippa Montrose,” she seethed. “And real love may be a choice, but I plan to choose someone who steals the breath from my body and haunts my very dreams. That is the only kind of love worth having.”

Splotches blossomed on Pippa’s cheeks, her shoulders starting to shake. “It doesn’t matter what you think,” she snapped. “Phoebus would never put me in danger. I can’t say the same for Sébastien Saint Germain. You almost died, Celine. If Michael hadn’t been there, Lord knows what would have happened. How can you be so foolish, even now? Have you learned nothing?”

“How can I learn anything when everyone keeps lying to me!” Celine raged. “And I’d rather be foolish than settle for a fool.”

Pippa’s eyes began to shimmer. Her lower lip trembled. The next second, tears started to slide down her cheeks, a sob escaping her lips.

The knot in Celine’s throat tightened like a garrote. She swallowed, but her sight began to water in response. She and Pippa were fighting. She’d caused her dearest friend to cry at her own engagement party. What kind of person was she?

In two long strides, Celine enveloped her friend in an embrace. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry. I spoke out of turn. There is no excuse for my behavior. Please forgive me.”