The event turnedout to be more fun than I’d expected. It was an early look at the designer Lilah Amiri’s new collection, and the clothes were incredible. The perfect mix of elegance and sexiness. Lilah herself seemed genuinely friendly, which was rare in the fashion world. We’d even exchanged contact information so we could meet up for coffee sometime.
After she excused herself to talk to her publicist, I stopped in front of a stunning, semi-sheer black gown that shimmered with subtle golden threads. The skirt draped to the floor in a lavish sweep, and the way it shone beneath the lights made it look like it was woven from the stars themselves.
The gown was a study in quality, both from the design and craftsmanship perspectives.
My mind drifted toward the stack of unfinished fashion sketches buried in the back of my drawer. Guilt pierced my gut as I tried to remember the last time I’d sketched.
Was it two, maybe three years ago?
I’d always wanted to start my own fashion brand. That was one of the reasons I started blogging and took the job at D.C. Style. I’d wanted to establish a name in the industry and make the right connections first.
But somewhere along the way, I’d gotten so caught up in the daily “emergencies”, brand partnerships, and follower counts that I’d lost sight of my end goal.
My guilt thickened.
I told myself I didn’t have the money to start my own brand anyway, but the truth was, I hadn’t really tried to make something work.
Buzzing from my phone pulled me out of my thoughts.
Natalia.
Dread snuffed out every other emotion faster than a candle in a rainstorm.
I shouldn’t feel that way about calls from my sister, but they were almost as stressful as the calls I used to receive from Meredith.
I eased a deep breath into my lungs.
Cool, calm, collected.
“Hi, Nat.” I dipped my head and walked to a quiet corner near the exit.
“Hi. There’s been a change in dinner plans,” Natalia said, crisp and no-nonsense as usual. “Dad has to leave for a last-minute work trip tomorrow, so dinner’s been moved to tonight. Can you be there at seven?”
My heartbeat wavered. “Tonight?” I checked the clock. It was just shy of five. “Nat, that’s in two hours! I’m at an event right now.”
It was ending soon, and it wouldn’t take me long to reach my parents’ house in suburban Virginia, but I wasn’t ready.
I thought I had a week left to mentally prepare for our monthly family dinner.
Sweat misted my skin at the thought of walking into an Alonso dinner unprepared.
“While I’m sure your influencer commitments are life and death”—sarcasm weighted Natalia’s words—“we’re all busy. Dad is literally going to negotiate a peace deal. Can you make it tonight, or should I tell them you’re busy?”
Should I tell them you’re disappointing them once again?
Natalia and I weren’t close, but I could still read the subtext behind her words.
“No.” I gripped my phone so tightly I heard a small crack. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. They also want you to bring your boyfriend.”
My stomach flipped. “What?”
“Your boyfriend,” Natalia said slowly. “The one you’ve been posting pictures of on Instagram? Mom and Dad want to meet him.”
Over my dead body.
There was no way in hell I’d bring Christian to something as intimate as a family dinner. That would blur the lines of our arrangement too much.
“He can’t make it. He has an important business dinner tonight.”
I was becoming alarmingly good at lying.
First to my followers, and now to my family.
The drink I’d downed earlier sloshed in my stomach, making me lightheaded.
“Fine,” Natalia said flatly. “Just you, then. Don’t be late.” She hung up.
“It was lovely chatting to you too,” I muttered.
I tucked my phone into my purse and whisked another cocktail off a passing server’s tray.
I was still a bit queasy, but if I was going to face my family tonight, I needed all the liquid courage I could get.
* * *
As expected,my parents weren’t thrilled when I showed up without Christian. They were used to getting their way, and when they didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for anyone involved.
“It’s a shame your boyfriend couldn’t make it.” Mom spooned a delicate heap of creamed corn onto her plate. “I expected him to make more of an effort to meet us. Especially considering we didn’t know he existed until Natalia told us.” Disapproval frosted her words.
Neither of my parents were active on social media, so it didn’t surprise me they relied on Natalia to report my comings and goings.
I took a gulp of water, but it did nothing to ease my parched throat or racing nerves. “He couldn’t cancel his dinner, and I didn’t want to say anything about our relationship until it was serious.”
“Is it serious?” My father raised his eyebrows.
Standing at a muscled six foot three, Jarvis Alonso was intimidating both in stature and presence. He’d played football at Yale, graduated top of his class, and held various positions in the private and public sectors before ascending to his current role as Chief of Staff to the Secretary of State.
Meanwhile, my mom was one of the top environmental lawyers in the city and a notorious shark in the courtroom.
Together, they ran the household like they ran their offices—with iron fists.
“I mean, we’re not getting married anytime soon,” I said lightly, evading the question.
“You called him my love in your caption.” Natalia smoothed a manicured hand over her hair. “That sounds serious to me. How long have you been dating again?”
I glared at her, and she blinked back with innocence.
“Three months.” Christian and I agreed that was a decent time frame for our “relationship.” It was long enough for people to think we were serious but short enough that it wouldn’t raise too many questions about why we hadn’t told anyone we were dating until a week ago.
“He’s coming to our next dinner.” My mom slipped into her lawyer voice. It was a voice no one disobeyed, including my father. “One month should be adequate notice for him to clear his schedule.”
I kept my tone even. “Yes, of course.”
Absolutely not.
I’ll come up with another excuse closer to the date. For now, it was easier to appease my parents than to argue.
“Excellent. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go around the table and share our accomplishments for the past month.” My mom straightened. I’d inherited her height and green eyes but not her passion for a legal career, much to her disappointment. “I’ll start. I won the case against Arico Oil…”
I pushed my food around my plate as my parents and sister shared their latest professional triumphs. This was everyone’s favorite part of dinner except mine. It gave them a chance to brag and gave me a severe case of stomach cramps.
After my dad finished telling us about the multi-country tour he’d organized, it was my sister’s turn.
“As you know, I was up for a promotion at work. I had some strong competition but…” Natalia looked around the table, her face glowing with excitement. “I got it! I got the promotion! You’re looking at the World Bank’s newest vice president.”
She beamed while my parents erupted into congratulatory cheers and my stomach dropped like an anchor to the ocean floor.
“Congrats, Nat.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. “That’s amazing.”
I was happy for her, truly.
But as always, the weight of my inadequacies eroded any joy I might’ve gleaned from my family’s accomplishments.
My mom was saving the environment, my dad was negotiating world peace, and my sister was on track to become the youngest president in World Bank history.
What was I doing?
Pinning my hopes on a campaign I might not get, pretending to date a man I wasn’t sure I even liked, and lying to over nine hundred thousand people about my relationship status.
While my family was sipping daiquiris on life’s luxury cruise liner, I was barely keeping my head above water.
After the hubbub over Natalia’s promotion died down, all eyes turned to me.
“Stella,” my father prompted. “What did you accomplish this month?”
I got fired because I didn’t check my phone for a few hours on a Saturday night. But on the bright side, I gained ten thousand followers after I posted a picture of me and the man I’m dating as a publicity stunt.
“Well.” I cleared my throat and scrambled for something safe to share. “My blog was featured as one of the top—”
The ring of my father’s phone interrupted me.
“Excuse me.” He held up one finger. “I have to take this.” He stood and walked toward the living room. “Hello, sir? Yes, this is a good time…”
I glanced at my mother and Natalia, who were busy discussing how to celebrate Natalia’s promotion.
I might as well be invisible.
Relief bloomed in my stomach as I stabbed a cherry tomato and brought it to my mouth.
At least I didn’t have to make up some stupid accomplishment to satisfy my parents. For once, their lack of interest in my career was a blessing, not a curse.
I made it all the way to dessert without having to answer a single question when my phone lit with a new text.
Christian: How’s dinner?
A quick flutter disturbed my chest.
Me: How did you know I was at dinner?
Christian: It’s dinnertime. Call me psychic.
A small smile curved my mouth.
Smartass.
Me: The food is great. The company could be better.
Me: How was your day?
We texted back and forth for a while about my event and his day at the office (boring, according to him). It was our first conversation since last night and surprisingly normal.
Neither of us brought up the note until dessert was finished.
Christian: I have some updates regarding last night.
Christian: When will you be home?
I could practically hear the shift in tone over text.
My stomach pinched with nerves as I typed out my reply.
Stella: In the next hour or so.
The trains ran less often this time of night.
Christian: Give me your address and I’ll send a car. Until we find the person who sent the note, you shouldn’t be taking the metro by yourself this late at night.
A strange warmth glided through my veins.
Normally, I would’ve turned him down, but I didn’t want to take the metro alone again. The station closest to my family’s house was always creepily empty after rush hour, and taking an Uber would be too expensive.
I sent him the address as requested.
Christian: The car will be there in twenty minutes.
Christian: I’ll see you soon.
Another flutter disrupted my heartbeat.
The simple promise in his last text shouldn’t excite me so much…but, for reasons unknown to myself, it did.
CHRISTIAN
I’d slepta total of three hours last night. The anticipation of Kage’s hourly texts made anything more impossible, and I’d crashed that morning after he confirmed Stella got through the night okay.
I lived by my systems. Seven hours of sleep a night, evening workouts three times a week in my private gym, and complex work and important meetings in the morning when I was sharpest, followed by duller tasks in the afternoon.
My discipline had catapulted me to where I was today—CEO of a Fortune 500 company with a vast intelligence network and a direct line to almost every major power player in the world.
In the span of twenty-four hours, Stella had thrown those systems into complete disarray.
I’d slept until noon, rescheduled my meetings for after lunch, and skipped my workout so I could do a more thorough scan of her apartment for secret cameras or surveillance devices before she returned home.
My disrupted schedule should’ve pissed me off, but the rush in my blood when her front door opened felt a lot less like anger and a lot more like anticipation.
Despite my vow to stay away from her, her absence proved more of a distraction than her presence. I’d spent all day hounding Brock for updates until I caved and texted her myself.
I leaned against the wall as Stella stepped inside, her head bent over her phone.
“Security tip number one: don’t look down at your phone until you’re in a secure location.”
She jumped and screamed until she saw me.
“Christian!” She placed a hand over her chest, her face two shades paler than usual. “What are you doing here?”
“Scanning your apartment for hidden cameras. There are none,” I added when she paled further.
“You can’t enter my apartment without notice! That’s an invasion of privacy.”
“Privacy doesn’t exist when it comes to security.” Everyone wanted privacy until they were in trouble. Then they gave up keys and passwords like they were nothing.
I’d merely skipped the inevitable back and forth with Stella about access and jumped straight to the protection part.
“Sounds like something a tyrant would say.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
Her glare lit the air between us with aggravation. “Christian, let me put it in plain terms. It is illegal for you to enter private homes without prior permission, even if you own the building.”
Hmm. I suppose it was.
Too bad I gave zero fucks about the law.
Legality did not mean right, and illegality did not mean wrong. One only had to look at the fucked-up justice system to realize the law was nothing more than a house of cards, created to give its citizens a false sense of security and weakened by doorways open only to a select few.
I had to keep up the appearance of a civil, law-abiding citizen, but as anyone knew, appearances can be deceiving.
And sometimes, we had to take justice into our own hands.
“Do you know how…” Stella’s knuckles turned white around her phone. “Do you know how many nightmares I’ve had of coming home to find an intruder in my house? Of being attacked while I’m in the shower or sleeping? Our homes are supposed to be our safe havens, but I…” The tiny crack of her voice caused a strange twist in my chest. “How can I feel safe knowing someone could walk in here any minute and I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t…”
Her words gave way to shallow, panting breaths. I could see the anxiety blooming in her eyes until the black of her pupils swallowed the green of her irises.
Fuck.
I’d known she might get upset, but I also figured she’d want someone looking out for her. Take the reins and handle her security so she didn’t have to worry about it. I wanted—no, needed—to watch over her.
It was a rare miscalculation on my part.
I rubbed a thumb over the face of my watch, strangely restless from both my error and Stella’s palpable distress. Figuring her out was a constant challenge.
A tight sensation unfurled in my chest until I had to push myself off the wall and walk toward her to ease its grip.
“You are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “Stella. It won’t happen again. Now breathe for me.”