“Do you want there to be another reason?” A question and a challenge, disguised by a cloak of softness. Stella’s lips parted with a soft, audible exhale. A dozen unspoken words consumed that single breath, and I wanted to keep every one of them for myself, to hoard them close to my chest the way a dragon guarded its treasure. But instead of giving me the hit I so desperately
craved, she gave a slow shake of her head. “Don’t lie to me, Stella.” I rubbed my thumb over the back of her neck in a lazy, languid stroke. The sound of her swallow filled the space between us. Her teeth dug into her lush lower lip, and the desire to pull her hair back and plunder the softness of her mouth consumed me. Just one taste. The reasoning of an addict desperate for his next fix. I’d never tasted her—yet—but I imagined she’d be even sweeter than in my imagination.
Our breaths thundered together in an erratic drumbeat. One taste. Then I could sate this ceaseless hunger inside me. One taste, and— A sharp ring snapped the taut air in half and left me with whiplash. Stella’s eyes widened a fraction before she scrambled off my lap like I’d suddenly caught fire. Dammit. Irritation solidified in my chest at the interruption as I stood and picked up the call. I walked to the corner of the room and turned my back so she couldn’t see the displeasure darkening my face. “This better be important.” “It is. I’ve got intel that Rutledge might jump ship to Sentinel.” Kage wasted no time beating around the bush. “Not fucking good, especially after the Deacon and Beatrix situation. People are going to talk.” My irritation intensified. Unlike Deacon and Beatrix, Rutledge was one of our biggest accounts. Losing him would be unacceptable. “Explain.” I switched gears to business mode as Kage laid out what he’d heard. The executive security world was a small one, and one could learn a lot if they had eyes and ears in the right places. “It’s not confirmed yet,” he said after he finished. “But I figured you’d want to know. If he leaves…” “He won’t.” Rutledge’s exit wouldn’t be a fatal blow, but it would make Harper Security look weak. And in my circles, showing weakness was akin to pouring blood into a shark pool. “I’ll have a talk with him. In the meantime, keep an eye on Sentinel. I want to know if anyone on the team so much as fucking sneezes.” They were up to something. Once was luck and twice was coincidence, but three times? That was a pattern, and not one I particularly liked. “You got it,” Kage said. I hung up, my mind already working through the implications of losing another account to Sentinel. I wouldn’t, of course. I knew Rutledge well, including his weak spots. But I always liked to have a backup plan in case everything went south. One of these days, I’d have to take care of Sentinel for good.
Should’ve wiped out their entire damn system like I’d wanted. It’d take more work, but I could hide my tracks well enough that no one could pinpoint me as the culprit. “Is everything okay?”
Stella’s voice pulled me out of my musings. “That sounded intense. “Yes.” I smoothed my expression into placidness before I turned. “Just a hiccup at work. Nothing important.” If I were alone, I would’ve already put the pieces for Sentinel’s demise in motion. Since I wasn’t, and I was with Stella, I set those pieces aside. For now. “I hope you’re not planning a competitor’s ruin,” she said solemnly. “That would be a bit heavy for a Friday night.” I almost smiled, both because she’d unerringly hit the nail on the head and because I spotted a glimmer of her usual sparkle in her eyes. She’d regained her composure during my call. The rosiness had dissipated from her cheeks, and she was curled up on the couch next to that stupid purple unicorn with a faint curve of her lips. “Don’t worry. I keep the destruction to business hours, Monday through Friday.” I raised a brow at the mischief in her growing smile. “Care to share the joke?” The sparkle in her eyes brightened. “Check my Stories.” “I don’t have social media.” The lie rolled off my tongue, though technically, it wasn’t a lie. Christian Harper didn’t have social media; CP612
did. “Seriously?” Stella shook her head. “We’ll have to fix that, but for now…” She typed
something into her phone. “Check your texts.” I opened her message, and I had to blink twice to make sure I was seeing correctly. She’d sent a screenshot of a Stories poll. A picture of me, back turned and phone to my ear, took up the left side of the screen; a familiar purple unicorn dominated the right side. The question was simple: Who would you rather cuddle with? Mr.
Harper or Mr. Unicorn? “You’re losing, by the way,” Stella said. “Mr. Unicorn is beating you fifty-three to forty-seven percent.” I stared at her, sure I was hearing wrong and that she didn’t have the fucking audacity to pit me against a raggedy stuffed animal with a crooked eye in some absurd social media poll. I was also sure I couldn’t be losing to said stuffed animal. “The poll must be broken because that’s ridiculous.” I tried not to sound as insulted as I felt. “It’s not, but you have twenty-three hours and fifty-one minutes to catch up.” Stella’s smile dimmed, and a touch of nerves resurfaced in her eyes. “Draw him out with more posts, right?” Her stalker. She may not be willing to admit the attraction between us, but she trusted me enough to take my recommendation implicitly. I blamed the fleeting ache in my chest on heartburn. My doctor was going to have his hands full during our next checkup. “That’s right. And for the record…” I tapped my phone screen. “You need followers with better taste if they’re choosing a unicorn over me. I’m wearing Brioni, for fuck’s sake.” Stella’s laugh finally pulled a smile out of me.
Despite what happened two nights ago, her light still shone through, and she was more resilient than a lot of people, including myself, gave her credit for. That’s my girl.
14
STELLA
March 25
It’s been a month since my dinner with Delamonte, and I haven’t heard a peep from them about the brand ambassador selection. Brady assures me they’ll choose soon, but he’s been saying that for weeks. At this point, I’m convinced I didn’t get it. On the bright side, I’m still gaining followers, and I’ve gotten two new brand deals in the past week. They don’t pay as much as Delamonte would’ve, but every bit counts. Also, I’m almost at 930K followers, which is wild and a little depressing. It turns out all I needed to do was to get a boyfriend to be more interesting
[insert sigh]. Speaking of which…I posted another photo of Christian the other day. The same one I snapped of him when he was on his call （he still hasn’t gotten over losing to a unicorn in my poll. I told him he would’ve won had he shown his face, which went over as well as you’d expect）。 Not my most creative work, but I’m still nervous about my stalker seeing a photo of us together and snapping. I know Christian said we need to draw him out, which makes sense. And I trust him to keep me safe. I gave him the stalker’s old letters and his team is…doing whatever it is security people do with creepy anonymous notes. Still, I have a bad feeling this could all go wrong VERY quickly. I don’t want to let the stalker situation rule my life, and I WON’T. But…I’m going to stay put in my apartment and work on my blog until I get an update from Christian. Just in case. It’s better to be safe than sorry.