The Celeste Winter Capsule Collection Preview was held at the iconic Crystal Pavilion—an opulent glass venue nestled in the heart of the city, known for its cascading chandeliers and starlit dome ceiling. The event was invitation-only, attended by top fashion critics, influencers, investors, and key media houses.
Tonight, Celeste shimmered with elegance—and so did its people.
Liyana stood near the entrance, dressed in a midnight-blue velvet gown, her presence commanding without needing to raise her voice. Damien wasn't far behind, quietly handling greetings and giving the occasional protective glance in her direction.
But the highlight of the night wasn't just the fashion.
It was who showed up.
Mira, dressed in a minimalist ivory sheath dress with delicate pearl earrings, walked through the arched glass doors, clipboard in hand. As Celeste's senior executive assistant, she had managed logistics for the entire event—from press coordination to seating charts.
Her heels clicked against the marble as she gave instructions to a junior staffer.
"Swap Table 3 with Table 5. We don't want the blogger who leaked spoilers sitting near the brand rep from Maison Evreux."
"Yes, Ms. Mira."
She was poised. Efficient. Unapologetically elegant.
Just as she finished reviewing the press rundown, a low, confident voice broke through the bustle.
"Still ruling the room with military precision, I see."
Mira turned. Her expression flickered—ever so slightly.
Aiden Zhou.
He stood a few feet away, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit with a subtle silk lapel. His tie was undone, the top button of his shirt casually open. He looked effortless, as usual. Too charming for his own good.
"Aiden," Mira greeted, raising an eyebrow. "You're early."
He held up a sleek invite. "Fashionably so."
Mira's gaze narrowed. "You don't usually attend these kinds of events. Too many cameras. Too many people."
"I came for business," he said simply, but there was a teasing tilt to his voice. "And maybe because Damien said the dessert bar has gold-dusted macarons."
Mira didn't smile. Not exactly. But there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
"You came to a billion-dollar showcase for sweets?"
He stepped closer. "No. I came to see what Celeste looks like when you're not hiding behind an Excel sheet."
She didn't flinch. But her breath caught — just a little.
"And what do I look like?" she asked coolly.
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze dropped briefly to the pearl detailing on her neckline before returning to her eyes.
"Like someone who doesn't know how much attention she draws."
There was a long pause.
"I'm working," she said, turning to walk toward the main runway. But Aiden followed easily, hands tucked in his pockets.
"Are you always this formal?"
"Only when I have work to finish. Which is… always."
"You know, if I didn't know better," he said casually, "I'd say you're avoiding having dinner with me."
"You never asked," she replied, stopping at the VIP check-in booth.
Aiden smiled. "Fair. Would you say yes if I did?"
Mira turned her clipboard slowly, looking at him with a faintly tilted head.
"Why would you want to have dinner with your friend's assistant?"
He shrugged. "Because his assistant happens to be the most interesting person in the room."
Her lips parted—slightly.
But before either could continue, a call came through Mira's earpiece. She pressed it in.
"On my way," she said. Then, to Aiden: "Duty calls. Try not to charm the media while I'm gone."
"I'll do my best," he said, his voice low and amused.
As she walked away, Aiden watched her go—his playful expression giving way to something softer. Curious. Intrigued.
Later that evening, Ruoxi spotted Aiden near the edge of the ballroom, sipping wine.
"Careful," she said as she joined him, "you're starting to look like a man with feelings."
Aiden didn't deny it.
Ruoxi followed his gaze—landing on Mira, who was now laughing softly with one of the fashion photographers.
"Well, well," she murmured. "Didn't peg you for the type."
Aiden didn't take his eyes off Mira.
"She's got fire beneath the frost," he said simply.
Ruoxi smiled. "Sounds like your kind of trouble."
He sipped his wine. "Exactly."
As the lights dimmed and the fashion presentation began—featuring Liyana's new Celeste Noir line—Mira slipped into the back row beside Aiden, clipboard still in hand.
He leaned over. "Sit with me for five minutes. No questions. No logistics. Just... the show."
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
And for five uninterrupted minutes, Mira sat beside him—silent, close, and strangely calm.
Something had shifted.
By the end of the night, as guests filtered out beneath fairy-lit arches and staff began winding down, Mira turned to Aiden one last time.
"I'll think about dinner," she said.
He looked at her, that smile returning. "I'll take that as a yes."