“It’s a fucking painting, not a wild animal.” Christian sounded bored. “As for Vivian, it’s been months, and it worked out fine. Let it go. If you’re still pissed, you shouldn’t have invited me to dinner.”
“Be glad things worked out fine with Vivian,” Dante said coldly. “If—”
He stopped when Vivian coughed, her face inexplicably red.
A second later, the door flung open, revealing a surprised Dante and an impassive Christian.
“I see you’ve finished the tour early.” Dante’s dry tone cut through the ensuing silence. A faint blush colored his cheekbones as he flicked his gaze at a silent Vivian.
“Sorry.” My own cheeks warmed at being caught eavesdropping. “We were on our way to the dining room and heard…” I trailed off, not wanting to confirm we’d been listening in on his conversation even though that was clearly what we’d been doing.
“We were just wrapping up,” Christian said smoothly. There was no hint of the ire I’d heard earlier. “Dante, Vivian, it’s been lovely.”
I said my goodbyes as well, and we rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence. But when we reached the sidewalk, I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“What’s Magda?”
Now that we’d left the Russos, I didn’t bother pretending I hadn’t heard them.
Christian had said it was a painting, but I didn’t understand why Dante was holding it for him. Christian didn’t even like art.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” His curt reply was chillier than the crisp evening air swirling around us.
The warm, easygoing Christian from dinner was gone, replaced by his aloof twin once more.
I tried again. “What stunt did you pull with Vivian and Heath?” Also, who the hell is Heath?
Normally, I wasn’t this nosy, but tonight was my best shot at getting Christian to open up. He’d revealed a sliver of what he was like behind his perfect mask earlier; I just needed to dig deeper.
“Also nothing you need to worry about.”
“That’s not an answer.”
We arrived at his building, which was only a few blocks from Dante’s place.
“You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you,” I added. “How is that fair?”
“You know plenty about me.” Christian nodded at the doorman, who tipped his hat in greeting. “Where I live, where I work, how I take my coffee in the morning.”
“Everyone can find those things out with a simple Google search. I just want—”
“Drop it, Stella.” There was no guise of gentleness anymore, only the sharp slice of a blade shredding me into ribbons. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
My jaw tensed.
“Fine.” Despite my cool reply, frustration bubbled hot and unchecked inside my veins.
I met Christian last year. We’d lived together and pretended we were a couple for weeks, yet I didn’t know a single thing about him beyond the superficial.
Meanwhile, he knew things about me I’d never shared with anyone else. My history with my stalker. My anxiety. My dreams of starting a fashion line. The small but important bits of my life that I’d kept secret from even my closest friends.
I trusted him, but he clearly didn’t feel the same way about me.
Something more bitter welled beneath the frustration.
Hurt.
Christian was nothing if not a master at making people believe in things that didn’t exist.
It’s just for show. It’s not real.
We didn’t speak again until we arrived at his apartment, where I bid him a stiff good night and retreated to the guest room before he could respond.
I couldn’t sleep, so I lay there staring at the ceiling while the cool, dark silence peeled away my frustration to reveal the hurt underneath.
I was more attracted to Christian than I’d been to any man in years. Not only that, I was starting to like him. The way he comforted me after I found the note in my apartment, the way his smiles spilled butterflies in my stomach, and the unshakeable faith he’d shown in me during the photoshoot…they’d all eroded my resistance so slowly I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d bared until I felt the sting of his rejection.
It burned like acid on raw skin, and it was my fault. I never should’ve let my guard down.
For all my aversion to relationships, I was a romantic in my most secret of hearts, and I was terrified that, like everything else I’d kept hidden, Christian would unravel that part of me until it was impossible to put back together.
He was dangerous, not just to his enemies but to those close to him.
And the only way to save myself was to make sure I stayed as far away from him as possible.
STELLA
One step forward,two steps back.
That summed up my relationship with Christian.
I’d thought we were making real progress. Considering how easily he’d shut me out after dinner at Dante’s, that wasn’t the case.
I didn’t hold a grudge often, but it’d been a week since we returned to D.C., and I still hadn’t shaken off all my hurt.
There was nothing more upsetting than considering someone a friend only to realize they didn’t feel the same way about you. The uneven balance in any relationship made my skin tight.
Drop it, Stella. I don’t want to talk about it.
It wasn’t like I’d asked him to spill his deepest, darkest secrets. Dante knew what happened with Magda and Vivian, so it couldn’t bethat bad.
Granted, I didn’t have as long of a history with Christian as he did, but still.
I swiped my card at the self-checkout counter with more force than necessary.
I’d visited Maura that morning and stopped by the grocery store to pick up more wheatgrass powder for my smoothies on the way home.
Pro tip: Don’t grocery shop when frustrated.
I came in for the powder and was leaving with two bags of popcorn, a pint of ice cream, a king-size chocolate bar, and a six-pack of Greek yogurt.
The air conditioning was on full blast, but a deeper, eerier chill swept over my skin when I turned to leave.
Every hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end.
The roar of blood in my ears drowned out every other noise as I scanned my surroundings with a white knuckle grip on my phone.