I’d gained those followers because I’d been lying to my audience. Granted, it wasn’t a malicious lie, and it didn’t hurt anybody, but guilt ate at me all the same.
“Like I said, that had nothing to do with our decision. But it’s a bonus.” Luisa cleared her throat. “Anyway, I have to run to a meeting, but look over the contract and discuss it with Brady. We sent a copy to him as well, so let us know if you have any questions.”
“I will, thank you.” I hung up in time to place my order. I’d finally reached the front of the line, but I was so buzzed I was no longer hungry, so I just ordered a tea and a croissant.
By the time I returned to the Mirage, I’d drowned my guilt over my fake relationship with justifications and euphoria from landing the Delamonte deal.
I was going to be their new brand ambassador. Me, Stella Alonso, the face of one of the world’s top luxury brands.
Not only was it a six-figure deal, but it’d open doors to more opportunities than I could dream of. I could up my base rates, network with—
The turn of my doorknob sent me crashing back to earth.
It was locked, which meant it’d been unlocked before I put my key in.
My high evaporated, replaced with an eerie crawling sensation up the back of my neck.
I was ninety percent sure I’d locked my door on my way out. Was I remembering wrong? The Mirage had never had a break-in, but…
I glanced around the empty hallway, the eerie sensation intensifying. I grabbed my taser from my bag before I unlocked the door and inched through my apartment. Part of me felt ridiculous; the other part screamed at me in warning.
I found nothing amiss in the living room, kitchen, bathroom, or Jules’s old room. The only place left to check was my bedroom.
I slowly pushed open the door.
At first, everything looked normal. Untouched bed, closed windows, no open drawers or upended furniture.
I was on the verge of relaxing when my gaze snagged on the item waiting for me on my nightstand.
And I screamed.
16
CHRISTIAN
Luisa: FYI, your girl got the deal.
I stared at my phone, suddenly more interested in Luisa’s text than Kage’s briefing on the Rutledge situation.
I’d told her to update me when she made a final decision, and she’d chosen correctly, as I’d known she would.
My only regret was not seeing Stella’s face and the way her eyes must’ve lit up when she got the news.
We’d have to celebrate later—for appearances’ sake, of course, since that was what a real couple would do. Maybe dinner in New York or a weekend in Paris…
“…could keep the Rutledge account, but we don’t know if Sentinel—Christian, are you listening to me?” A hint of annoyance worked its way into Kage’s voice.
“Yes. We held onto the Rutledge account, Sentinel will try to steal more of our clients, and they’re allegedly working on something big, but we don’t know what it is yet. Continue.” I looked up, my face hardening. “And don’t question me again.”
Kage’s mouth tightened, but he continued as ordered.
“We’re still gathering intel on Sentinel’s secret project, but we think…”
I dropped my eyes back to my phone and opened Stella’s profile. She hadn’t posted anything new in the past few days, so I settled for examining the photo of us at the art gallery.
Even from the side, she was a vision.
Lush dark curls, flawless skin, and long, lean lines that transformed even the plainest clothing into a masterpiece.
Something tugged low in my gut at the memory of how she’d felt beneath my hands. Of the way her scent filled my lungs when I buried my face in her neck and the little hitch in her voice when I’d touched her.
She’d looked so enraptured by that painting I almost hadn’t wanted to interrupt her, but I couldn’t help myself.
Trying to stay away from her was like the ocean trying to stay away from the shore.
Impossible.
I rubbed my thumb over the phone screen while Kage droned on.
In truth, I hadn’t needed to convince Wyatt of anything at the gallery opening. He’d already agreed to hire Harper Security; we just needed to sign the contract, which I could’ve scheduled during business hours.
But according to Brock, Stella hadn’t left her house since her family dinner, and she’d needed a push to go outside. She shone too brightly to stay cooped up out of fear.
“What’s the latest update on the background checks?” I interrupted whatever Kage was saying to focus on the most important matter at hand: Stella’s stalker.
As expected, he was lying low, and he’d been careful with all the notes he’d sent her. They were all infuriatingly generic with not a single shred of physical evidence to point us in the right direction.
In the absence of new evidence, I’d had Kage pull together a list of everyone in Stella’s life, including old classmates, coworkers, and other influencers. A majority of stalking victims knew their stalker in some capacity, so that was the best place to start.
Kage frowned but wisely didn’t complain. “Nothing suspicious yet. I’ll let you know as soon as we get a hit.” He hesitated, then said, “Listen, I know she’s your girl, but we’re using a lot of resources on—”
He was interrupted again, this time by an incoming call on my phone.
Stella.
It was like I’d conjured her with my thoughts.
I picked up, expecting her to tell me about the Delamonte deal. She dashed those expectations immediately.
“Christian.” Stella’s voice cracked.
Ice doused the warmth that’d flared at the sight of her name.
Something's wrong.
“Where are you?” I skipped the useless questions—are you okay? what’s wrong?—and cut straight to the heart of the matter.
Despite my calm voice, my hand curled so tight around my phone it cracked in protest.
“Home.” Her reply was barely audible.
“I’ll be right there.”
I didn’t bother putting on a jacket before I left; the only thing I could think about was how upset Stella must be to call me.
If she could, she would keep all her problems to herself and try to handle them on her own. Always helping others and never asking for herself. The fact she hadn’t…
My heart slowed to a deep, ominous thrum, and my hand flexed with the sudden need to strangle something before I forced it to relax.
Until I found out exactly what happened, I needed to keep a level head and not kill anyone—specifically Brock, who was supposed to be looking after Stella.
Kage gawked at me as I yanked open the door.
I never walked out of a briefing, ever. I liked to know everything that was happening in my business, even if it was boring as shit.
“Where are you—”
“Briefing’s over.” I slammed the door behind me, cutting him off mid-sentence.
My footsteps pounded out a cold, furious rhythm as I called Brock on my way to the garage.
Why the fuck hadn’t he alerted me that something was wrong? What was the point of having someone shadow Stella if they couldn’t do their goddamn job?