Plus, he hadn’t reached out all day. No texts or calls, not that I should’ve expected anything else. Obviously, Christian had more important things to do than babysit me. He ran a multimillion-dollar company, and we weren’t even really dating. He’d already gone above and beyond by asking Kage to stay with me overnight.
I didn’t want to embarrass myself by making last night a bigger deal than it was, so I kept my mouth shut and busied myself preparing for an influencer event with an up-and-coming fashion designer that afternoon.
I’d been tempted to skip the event, but I needed something to take my mind off the note and its implications.
You were supposed to wait for me, Stella. You didn’t.
A shiver rolled down my spine as I locked my apartment door behind me. I hadn’t drunk coffee in years, but I was so jumpy I might as well have downed five shots of espresso.
It’s fine. You’ll be in public. Everything will be just fine.
The event turned out 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.”