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.
22
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 be that 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.
I didn’t see anyone suspicious, but the ominous shift in the air was so tangible I tasted it in the back of my throat.
Someone’s watching you. The soft, singsong warning drifted through my head.
And that someone wasn’t Brock, whose presence was invisible but always warm and reassuring.
A shiver rattled down my spine.
I hadn’t heard from my stalker since the break-in nor had I received any updates from Christian. I hadn’t asked for them; part of me didn’t want to know.
Out of sight, out of mind, except that obviously wasn’t true.
Whoever the creep was, he was out there, probably waiting for another opportunity to pounce.
I hadn’t mentioned my move on social media, but I was still living in the same building. If they could break into my apartment…
Stop it. He cannot break into Christian’s house.
He couldn’t hurt me when I was in public, either. Brock was there. I couldn’t see him, but he was
It’s fine. You’re fine.
Still, I forced my legs to move and walked as quickly as I could back to the Mirage.
The chill evaporated beneath the blaze of the afternoon soon. By the time I locked the door of Christian’s apartment behind me, I almost felt silly for how a mere sensation paralyzed me in the middle of a crowded grocery store in broad daylight.
It’s fine. You’re fine.
I twisted my necklace around my finger and dragged slow, deep breaths through my lungs until the vestiges of fear cleared.
Yes, my stalker was out there, but he couldn’t get to me.
I may have been upset with Christian right now, but I trusted him to protect me.
He’d find the stalker soon. Then the whole situation would blow over and I could return to my normal life.
I was sure of it.
My streak of successfully avoiding Christian ended that night when he came home so early the sun still hung low in the sky and spilled golden washes of light across the light gray floors.
I’d just finished a pre-interview with Julian, the lifestyle columnist for Washington Weekly. He was doing an in-depth profile on me and my Delamonte ambassadorship, and we’d spent the past half hour discussing topics and logistics.
I was sketching in the living room when the front door opened and every hair on my body prickled with awareness.
I didn’t have to see Christian to feel him. He consumed every room he walked into.
Don’t look, don’t look—
I looked.
Sure enough, there he was, striding across the room like a king to his throne.
Broad shoulders. Sharp cheekbones. Expensive suit.
“Slacking off?” I stood and tucked my sketching notebook beneath my arm. I didn’t like sitting around Christian. It made me feel at even more of a disadvantage than I already was. “It’s still business hours.”
They were the first words I’d spoken to him since New York, and I would be lying if I said they didn’t give me a heady rush.
His steps slowed until he came to a halt in front of me. “I figured you’d want to celebrate.”
Confusion pulled my brows together. “Celebrate what?”
“You hit a million followers, Stella.” Christian watched me, unsmiling, but his eyes glowed with a faint hint of amusement. “As of one hour ago.”
One million followers.
There was no way I’d hit that milestone already. When I checked last night, I’d only been at…nine hundred ninety-six thousand, give or take a few hundred.
Oh my God.
Considering how fast I’d been growing since I started “dating” Christian, four thousand new followers overnight was fully within the realm of possibility.
“If you don’t believe me, check for yourself.” It was like he’d read my mind.