“Trust me. Even if you don’t have a physical product yet, you’re probably further along than you think.” She had the industry and marketing knowledge, which was often the hardest part. Creating the actual product was easy. “Do you have a business plan?”
My calm question betrayed the hum in my blood.
I was dragging out the conversation, but this was the first time we were talking about something real, something other than my work, her stalker, and our arrangement.
Stella shared most of her life online, but I wanted to hear about it in her words. I wanted to understand the way she thought, felt, and saw the world.
I wanted to unravel every thread that made her her and lay them all bare so I could examine them. Figure out what it was about this woman, in particular, that entranced me when there were thousands who were objectively just as beautiful and who desired me more.
“Does sketch, sew, and pray for the best count?”
Another smile threatened to bloom at her hopeful tone. “Impressive, but I’m afraid you’ll require something more concrete.”
She sighed. “I was afraid of that. I can do the creative stuff, but I hate math. Anything more than basic accounting goes way over my head.”
“When you hit a certain level of success, you can hire someone to run the business side of things for you. Until then…” I tapped my fingers on the table. Once, twice. “I’ll help you.”
The words hovered between us, as shocked by their existence as I was.
Between the inside leak, her stalker, and Sentinel breathing down my neck, I already had a million things on my plate. I didn’t need to add a fucking fashion line to the mix.
But now that the offer was out there, I couldn’t take it back.
And, if I were being honest, I didn’t want to.
Stella’s eyes widened. “You’ll help me. Personally?”
“I believe that’s implied by the word I’ll, yes.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
She hitched a stubborn brow.
I sighed. “I’m not writing the plan for you, Stella. I’ll send you a template and review it as you go. It won’t take much time.”
Depending on how her draft was, it might take a whole fucking lot of time, but I kept that to myself.
“Plus, I can say I was there from the start when you become the next big thing,” I added.
“You sound so sure that’ll happen.”
“I am sure.” I’d witnessed businesses come and go over the years. The ones that thrived were often led by people with the same qualities: creative, passionate, disciplined, and willing to learn.
Stella had all those qualities in spades. She just needed to discover that for herself.
Her shy, answering glance sent a strange warmth spiraling through my chest. “I, um, actually sketched out a few designs. Do you want to see?”
My smile finally blossomed in full, slow and languid. “I’d love to.”
Silence ensconced our walk to her room, where she pulled a stack of papers from her desk drawer and handed them to me.
“I wanted a line that fits the types of clothes I already cover on my account. High quality with a mix of price points for different consumers. And lots of dresses,” she added. “I love dresses.”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as I examined the sketches.
“They’re just drafts.” She twisted her necklace around her finger. “I haven’t sketched in a while, so I’m rusty—“
“They’re beautiful.”
Stella’s sketches were lush and intricately detailed, full of rich colors and perfectly cut silhouettes. They were designs that belonged on the runways of Milan and Paris, not stuffed in the corner of a room in D.C.
She faltered. “Really?”
“Yes, and I don’t lie to spare people’s feelings. If they were terrible, I’d say so. They’re not.” I handed the sketches back to her. “You’re talented. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, tell you otherwise.”
Stella’s lips parted a fraction at my words.
It was a tiny movement, but my eyes latched onto it like a magnet to steel.
The air thickened, suffocating us with a tension that ticked like a bomb waiting to explode.
“Do you understand?” My voice was low, but it burned between us like kindling doused with gasoline.
A visible swallow disrupted the delicate lines of her throat.
“Yes.” The soft exhale of her reply brushed my skin and tugged low on my groin.
She was so close.
I could end the game now, bend her to my will and stoke the embers of attraction between us until they ignited into flames. Give her a taste of what she could have if she succumbed to the inevitability of us.
Everything.
“Good.”
I dipped my head and, in a subtle, almost unconscious movement, my lips touched hers.
Two seconds. One syllable. An electric instant that scorched every inch of my skin.
Somewhere in the distance, a sheaf of papers fluttered to the floor.
I inhaled Stella’s soft gasp like it was my last ounce of oxygen, and a groan worked its way up my throat at her sweet taste.
It was barely a kiss. We hadn’t even moved, yet our brief contact consumed me.
The air in my lungs, the beat in my heart.
In that moment, Stella was the only thing that existed.
I breathed her in. Exhaled. And pulled back.
We stared at each other.
Our almost kiss had lasted no more than a fraction of a minute, yet we were both flushed and panting like we’d run a marathon.
Surprise and something weightier darkened her eyes into emerald pools.
“Christian…” The sound of my name on her shallow breath poured lust straight into my veins.
My groin tightened.
I couldn’t believe I had a hard-on after a few seconds of chaste contact, yet here we were.
“Our first business meeting is next week. Come prepared.” I rolled up my sleeves, my cool voice at odds with the flames licking my skin. When did it get so fucking hot in here? “Good night, Stella.”
I left before she could respond.
Every molecule of my body demanded I stay and finish what I’d started, but it was too soon. Someone broke into her house yesterday, for God’s sake.
Still, when I stepped into my bathroom and turned the water as cold as it would go, the burn in my blood remained.
March 31
I…
What. Just. Happened.
19
STELLA
A week after I moved into his house, I discovered Christian’s dirty little secret.
In a dark corner of his den, tucked between DVDs of Reservoir Dogs and The Godfather, he owned a collector’s edition of Spice World.
That was right. Christian Harper, the CEO of Harper Security and possibly the most terrifying man I’d ever met, owned a special edition of a movie featuring a nineties girl band that, coincidentally, was one of my favorites for no reason other than its pure campiness.
I didn’t know people still owned DVDs, but I wasn’t giving up the opportunity to rewatch one of my childhood obsessions on his state-of-the-art flatscreen.
Based on what I’d observed of his schedule, Christian wouldn’t be home for another two hours, so I allowed myself to let loose.