I had a taser in my bag. Why hadn’t I grabbed my taser? I’d only held onto the letter, which I’d dropped onto the floor next to me. It was useless as a weapon unless I planned to paper cut the intruder to death.
Stupid, useless, disappointing…
Tears burned behind my closed lids.
Would my family care if I died? They might be sad at first, but eventually, they’d be relieved that the family’s biggest disappointment was gone. They hadn’t even wanted me. I’d been an accident, a disruption in their long-running plan to only have one child.
If I died, they could finally get their plan back on track. If I—
A hand grasped my chin and tilted it up.
“Stella, look at me.”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay in my well of denial forever.
If I can’t see the monster, it doesn’t exist.
But the voice didn’t sound like it belonged to a monster. It sounded deep and velvety and too authoritative for me not to obey.
I slowly opened my eyes.
Whiskey. Fire. Warmth.
My chills skittered away at the banked fury glimmering beneath those dark pools of concern, but Christian’s face softened when our gazes connected.
“You’re okay.”
Only two words, but they contained such calm reassurance that the dam inside me finally broke.
A sob tore from my throat, and moisture spilled past my eyes until his face blurred.
I heard a low curse before strong arms engulfed me, and my face pressed against something hard and solid. Immovable, like a mountain in a storm.
I curled into Christian’s embrace and let out weeks of stress and anxiety until I ran dry. It wasn’t just the note, though that had been the tipping point. It was D.C. Style, my family, Delamonte, my social media, and the deep-rooted sense that no matter how hard I tried, I would never live up to the expectations of those around me. That I would always be a disappointment.
It was my life.
Somewhere along the way, it’d careened so off course I couldn’t even see the main path anymore.
I felt like a total failure.
Christian didn’t say a word as I sobbed out my frustration on his chest. He just held me until my tears dried enough for mortification to seep into the void left behind by my expelled emotions.
“I’m sorry.” I lifted my head and swiped the back of my hand against my damp cheeks. My mortification deepened when I saw the tear blotches staining his expensive-looking button-down. “I—” I hiccupped. “I ruined your shirt.”
Of all the ways I’d pictured the night ending, having a mini meltdown in Christian Harper’s arms wasn’t one of them.
He didn’t even glance down. “It’s a shirt. I have plenty.”
We were still on the floor, and I would’ve laughed at the sight of him sitting so casually on the hardwood in his designer clothes had his words not created another well of moisture behind my eyes.
An hour ago, I’d thought he was the biggest jerk in existence. Now…
I blinked the fresh tears away. I’d embarrassed myself enough already, thank you very much, and I couldn’t keep up with my roller coaster of emotions.
First my argument with Christian, then finding the note.
The note.
Dread resurfaced as a slow, insidious wave that washed away my short-lived relief. Whoever sent the note was still out there. They hadn’t been a physical threat so far, but…
My eyes strayed toward the deceptively innocent-looking letter.
Christian followed my gaze. His face hardened, and I didn’t stop him when he picked up the paper and read the typed message.
When he lifted his eyes again, their cool amber color had darkened into obsidian.
“Who sent this?” His calm, almost pleasant tone contrasted with the danger flickering in the air.
I pulled it tight around me, taking strange solace in his quiet fury.
“I don’t know. I came home, looked through my bag, and found it.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I’ve…I’ve received similar notes before. But it’s been a while since the last one.”
The flicker of danger ignited into a flame. The intensity of it soaked every molecule of air, but instead of unnerving me, it made me feel safe, like it was a titanium wall shielding me from the outside world.
I’d never told anyone except Jules about my stalker before. I wanted to tell Christian, if only because he was the security expert and would have ideas about how to track the creep down. But I was crashing now that the adrenaline from finding the note had worn off.
Exhaustion tugged at my eyes, and every time I opened my mouth to explain the situation, a yawn escaped instead.
Christian must’ve known I lacked the energy for anything except sleep because he didn’t ask for details. Instead, he stood and held out his hand.
After a brief hesitation, I scooted out from under the table and took it.
Dizziness overtook me as he pulled me to my feet, but when it passed, I almost did a double take at how normal my apartment looked.
Same aromatherapy candle sitting on the coffee table. Same cashmere blanket draped over the back of the armchair. No trace of the wild panic that’d cycled through me less than thirty minutes ago.
We always expected our external world to reflect our internal one, but it was situations like these that reminded me the world would go on no matter what happened to us individually.
It was equal parts reassuring and depressing.
I sank onto the couch while Christian did a quick security sweep of the apartment. My legs couldn’t hold my weight anymore, and I’d almost fallen asleep against the deep cream cushions when he returned to the living room.
“You can’t stay here. The apartment’s secure,” he added when I straightened with alarm. “But the person who wrote the note is still out there and probably knows where you live. You have to move.”
Anxiety tightened my stomach. “To where? This is my home.”
“It’s not safe.”
“I thought the Mirage had the best building security in the city.”
Christian’s only response was a tightening of his jaw.
I took a deep breath. My fog of terror had cleared enough for rational thinking to sink in again.
“Whoever the culprit is, they got to me outside the building. There’s nowhere I can move that would be safer than here. Besides…” My fingers curled tight around the edge of the couch. “I’m not letting some coward who hides behind anonymous letters drive me out of my own home.”
I’d spent too many years in the passenger seat of my life, letting other people steer me to where they wanted me to go. Living in fear of their commentary about my actions and making myself small to fit into whatever box they put me in. My parents’ expectations, my boss’s demands, my stalker’s notes, which left me so paranoid I jumped at every slam of a door and snap of a twig.
They acted, I reacted.
I was sick of it. It was time to wrestle back control, and learning how to say no was the first step.
“I’m not moving,” I repeated.
If the stalker had broken into my apartment, it would’ve been a different matter, but he hadn’t. Besides, I was right. There was nowhere I could move that would be safer than the Mirage.
Christian stared at me, his expression carved of granite.
I forced myself not to look away even as my body fought against the weight of his gaze.
He’d seen me vulnerable, but I refused to let him see me weak.
My breath pressed tight against my lungs, and it wasn’t until Christian dipped his head in acquiescence that I released it.
Relief and a kernel of pride rushed to fill the void.
He hadn’t said a word, but I had the unshakeable sense that I’d just faced off against a lion and won.
“Fine, but you’re not staying here without extra protection.”
I could live with that. I welcomed it, even, as long as the extra protection wasn’t too intrusive.
For a second, I thought Christian would offer to stay the night with me, and I hated how my heart skipped a beat at the thought.
“Kage, I need you for an assignment…yes. Overnight.” Several beats passed before he spoke again, his voice hard. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re dining with the Pope or having sex with Margot fucking Robbie. I want you on the tenth floor of the Mirage in twenty minutes.”
Disappointment curled through me before I crushed it. Of course Christian wouldn’t stay with me. He was the CEO. That type of work was probably beneath him.
He hung up, and something niggled at the back of my mind in the silence that followed.
“Why did you come to see me? Before you…” Found me in the middle of a panic attack. “Before you realized what happened.”
Christian slipped his phone into his pocket. “I wanted to clear the air after our exchange.”
It was a smooth, neutral reply. Almost too smooth.
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“You have a reason for everything, or you wouldn’t do it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t elaborate on his earlier answer.
He’d said twenty minutes, but someone knocked on the door less than ten minutes later.
That someone turned out to be a mountain of a man, all muscles and tattoos and good-looking in a way that must be irresistible to women with a weakness for bad boys.
Kage, I assumed.