Croissants, muffins, and scones filled two large woven baskets, while a make-it-yourself smoothie bowl section boasted every fruit and topping I could think of.
It was a buffet for twenty, not two.
“Are you hosting a brunch party?” I asked, uncertain why anyone needed this much food for themselves.
“No, but Nina went all out, so you may as well enjoy it.”
Before I could ask who Nina was, a round-faced woman with a dark bun and cheerful smile entered the room.
“I’m Nina.” She gave Christian a disapproving glance before she handed me a glass of something green and creamy. “Wheatgrass smoothie, right?”
I relaxed beneath the warmth of her friendliness. “Yes, thank you. How did you know?”
This must be Christian’s housekeeper slash part-time chef. I’d never met her, though I knew she was the only person who had the keys to his house besides me.
“Mr. Harper told me it was your favorite.” She winked at me while Christian glared at her.
“That’ll be all for now. Thank you.” His polite dismissal only half masked the razor’s edge running beneath his voice.
Nina suppressed what looked like a laugh before she left.
“I see caffeine hasn’t improved your mood.” I loaded a plate with food and sat next to him. “I’d hoped it would bring Dr. Jekyll back. Mr. Hyde isn’t doing it for me.”
He’d always been on the aloof side, but I felt the distance between us vividly this morning.
“Funny. I see a night of sleep has improved your mood.” Christian folded the crossword and set it aside before he added, “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning,” I admitted.
I knew that wasn’t what he was really asking, but I didn’t want to talk about the note right now. I just wanted to eat and pretend everything was normal.
I tore off a piece of my croissant and popped it in my mouth. A sigh of pleasure rose in my throat.
Croissants were a gift of heaven. I was sure of it.
“Good. I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I had Nina make a bit of everything,” he said, his tone gruff.
Warmth flickered to life in my chest.
I gave him a shy smile, touched by the gesture even though he wasn’t the one who’d cooked the food.
A faint hint of pink colored his cheekbones.
Was he…blushing?
Before I could make sense of the staggering sight, the pink disappeared, and Christian’s face turned to granite again.
“Since you’re here, we should go over the rules.”
My brow furrowed. “Okay…”
“You’re here because you’re in danger, and since you’re now fully under my protection, we need to take appropriate steps to secure your safety,” he said crisply. “Staying here until we catch the person who’s been leaving you those notes is the first step. My team will move the rest of your belongings in today. While you’re here, you will sleep in the guest room and adhere to the house rules. No bringing friends or men over…” His voice iced at the word men. “And no touching unrecognizable devices. There’s a fifty-fifty chance they could kill you. Other than that, consider this your home for the foreseeable future.”
Fifty-fifty chance they could kill me? What kind of devices did he own?
“Oh.” I forced a bright smile. “Well, who can resist a welcome like that? You really know how to make a girl feel all warm and fuzzy.”
Christian ignored my sarcasm. “It’s good that you’re not posting where you are in real time, but I want you to wait twenty-four hours to post instead of your usual three to four. Vary your schedule and keep it unpredictable, including the routes you take home. You will also have a bodyguard. Brock will look after you when you’re not with me. He’ll be unobtrusive; you won’t even know he’s there unless you need help. Finally…”
“Oh, good. I was afraid that was it. Go on.”
“You have to tell your friends the truth.” Christian fixed me with a hard stare. “If they don’t know you’re in danger, they can inadvertently put you in danger or be in danger themselves. Ignorance isn’t always bliss.”
My smile faded. A protest worked its way to the tip of my tongue before I squashed it.
Christian was right.
As much as I hated making my friends worry and having a bodyguard watching every move I made—similar to a stalker, though with less nefarious intentions—I needed the protection.
Plus, I couldn’t have my friends thinking everything was okay when it wasn’t. What if the stalker targeted them when he couldn’t get to me? I would never forgive myself if something happened to them because I didn’t give them proper warning.
My nails dug angry half-moons into my knees.
Cool, calm, collected.
Cool, calm, collected.
“Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll tell them. But I have a few rules of my own.”
If this new living arrangement was going to work, I needed some say in it. Christian was the security expert, but this was my life.
“Of course you do.” Dryness filled Christian’s voice. No doubt he remembered my insistence on including my own set of rules in our fake dating arrangement.
“This is your house, and I’ll respect your rules. But I also ask that you respect my privacy. That means no coming into my room without permission, even when—especially when—I’m not there. Don’t go through my belongings even if they’re in a common space. Don’t tell me where I can go or who I can see unless it’s a direct threat to my safety. And…” My teeth sank into my bottom lip as I contemplated my last request.
“And?” He raised a dark brow.
My nails dug deeper into my skin. “No bringing women home. I don’t care if you sleep with them, but they can’t be here while I’m here. It’s not…it won’t look right.”
Exclusivity was implied but not explicitly stated in our contract. I had no issue maintaining celibacy, but I doubted I could say the same for someone like Christian. He probably had women flinging themselves at him every day, regardless of his relationship status.
A strange twist wrung my heart and left it out to dry when I pictured him with another woman.
I told myself it had everything to do with keeping up appearances and nothing to do with…anything else.
Christian’s amusement disappeared beneath pools of amber ice. “I don’t cheat, Stella.”
“It’s not cheating when we’re not really dating.”
What was I saying? It wasn’t like I wanted him to sleep with other women. It was too risky, and…
My stomach cramped. I must’ve inhaled my croissant too fast.
Tick. Tick. Tick. I watched the muscle jump in his jaw with nervous fascination. Christian’s anger was a rolling wave, slow and insidious as it swallowed everything in its wake. But when he spoke again, his tone was as smooth and placid as a summer lake.
“Noted.”
Noted? That was the vaguest answer he could’ve given, but I was too apprehensive to ask for clarification.
We didn’t speak again for the rest of the meal.
That afternoon, while Christian worked in his home office and the movers hauled the rest of my belongings up from my apartment, I explored the eight thousand square feet of bachelor luxury that would be my home for God knew how long.