there helped me make it through the day. Sometimes, all we needed was the knowledge someone somewhere cared about us. “I know. If I need anything, I’ll tell you. I promise.” “Okay.”
Despite her palpable reluctance, Ava didn’t press the issue. “Stay safe. And I’m not just talking about the creep sending you notes.” I’m also talking about Christian. She didn’t say it, but I heard her loud and clear. “I will.” I took another deep breath. “I have to go, but I love you.” I could tell Ava wanted to say more, but she held back. “Love you too.” I hung up. One down, two more to go. I called Jules next. She was going to lose her shit, but she already knew about the stalker, so maybe she’ll lose less of her shit? Oh, who was I kidding? I would be lucky if she didn’t show up at my door wielding a machete and a plan to scour every neighborhood in D.C.
until we found them. “Hey, J,” I said when she picked up. “Are you home? You’re not near any sharp objects, are you? Good, because I have something to tell you…”
18
CHRISTIAN/STELLA
Christian
I spent the day reviewing the security footage from yesterday. There were hours of useless video, but I kept coming back to the same spot—a half-hour “technical glitch” which coincided with Stella’s trip to the coffee shop. The stalker had not only broken into her apartment; they’d also hacked into the Mirage’s closed-circuit surveillance system. It should’ve been impossible, but the thirty minutes of static that’d replaced what should’ve been a crystal-clear view of the hallway outside Stella’s apartment confirmed it. I’d already ordered a full emergency overhaul of the building’s security system. Every code changed, every nook and cranny swept for evidence of tampering. They all came back clean, which meant one thing. It’d either been an inside job, or the stalker had inside help. My blood iced at the prospect. Every employee had to pass extensive screenings before I hired them, but life changed. All it took was a debt or a loved one in danger to make a person vulnerable to bribery and persuasion. I would know; I was often the one doing the bribing and persuading. I eased a breath through my lungs and shrugged off my fury with a subtle roll of my shoulders. There was a time and place for business. Dinner with Stella wasn’t it. I was already running a second round of checks on everyone who worked at the Mirage and Harper Security. I would know by tomorrow whether anyone had weaknesses outsiders could exploit. Until then, I’d keep the ugly details of the investigation to myself.
Outwardly, Stella had bounced back from the breakin, but she was good at hiding her true emotions. Even her closest friends thought she was unflappable when the signs of her anxiety were so clear—the way her breathing changed and her eyes darkened, the way she twisted her necklace around her finger whenever she was upset. She didn’t show any of those signs now, but that didn’t mean she’d put what happened behind her. It’d only been twenty-four hours, for fuck’s sake. “By the way, Luisa told me about the Delamonte deal,” I said, filling the lull in our
conversation. “Congratulations.” Since the meal started, she’d talked about everything except the breakin. She hadn’t even mentioned how her friends took the news, not that I cared. I only cared that they didn’t endanger her by doing something stupid. But if she didn’t want to talk about what happened, I wouldn’t force her to. Instead of sitting next to me like she’d had at breakfast, she occupied the chair at the other end of the eight-person table. The distance irked me more than it should have, but a tiny smile touched my lips when her eyes brightened at the mention of Delamonte. “Thank you. I can’t believe I got the deal. I still need to talk to my manager and sign the contract, but…” Her smile dimmed. “Well, you know what happened.
Anyway.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of her water. “I’m excited. The campaign can open a lot of doors for me.” “Is that what you want? To work with brands full time?” From a logical standpoint, moving Stella into my house was one of the worst decisions I could’ve made.
She was my biggest distraction. My weakness. That was why I’d tried to keep my distance that morning, but I didn’t fucking appreciate her telling me she didn’t care if I went out and fucked other women. Like I’d been able to focus on any other woman since I met her. I’d lasted less than a day trying to stay away from her. “I think it’s good for the short term,” Stella said in response to my question. “I’m not sure it’s sustainable for the long term. I actually…” I waited while indecision played across her features. It was the look of someone who had a secret they were desperate but afraid to tell. “I might start my own fashion brand eventually. It’s not a sure thing,” she rushed out. “Just an idea I had. We’ll see.” My eyebrows rose, more in intrigue than surprise.
Stella starting a fashion line made more sense than her working at a magazine. Some people were leaders, others were followers. Stella might think she was the latter, but she was too talented and shone too brightly to be hemmed in by other people’s expectations. “I think it’s a great idea.” She blinked, clearly startled by my response. “Really?” She sounded doubtful.
“You’ve already built one brand with your blog and social media. Building a second shouldn’t be hard.” My mouth tilted. “Correction. It shouldn’t be as hard.” Stella’s brow furrowed. “I never thought about it that way.” “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?”