Dented, but not destroyed. “It’s been an hour. One hour. Think about how much time you invested to get to where you are now. How much have you achieved? How many people have you outlasted? You downplay your accomplishments as ordinary when you would hail them as extraordinary on anyone else.” Christian kept his grasp on my chin as he brushed his thumb over my cheek. He was close enough I could spot the gold flecks in his eyes, like fallen stars swimming in pools of molten amber. “If you saw yourself the way other people see you,” he said quietly. “You’d never doubt again.” Curiosity and something infinitely sweeter and more dangerous fluttered to life in my heart. “How do other people see me?” Christian’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “Like you’re the most beautiful, most remarkable thing they’ve ever seen.” The words lit every molecule in my body and dissolved them into a pool of exquisite, unbearable warmth. We weren’t talking about other people, and we both knew it. “This is one photoshoot, Butterfly.” Another brush of his thumb, another gallop of my heart. “The first half was practice.
The second half is yours. Do you understand?” It was impossible not to get swept away by
Christian’s confidence. Instead of adding a brick to my worries about not living up to expectations, his faith in me fortified me enough to lock those ugly, taunting voices in my head back in the box where they belonged. “Yes,” I said, my lungs tight but my breathing easier than it’d been all afternoon. “Good.” His lips dipped and touched mine in the softest of kisses. It wasn’t the first time we’d gotten this close, but it felt more effortless. Less of a kiss, more of a promise.
My nerves settled while everything around me disappeared for one long moment. Then the moment was gone, and so was he, but the warmth of his presence and the phantom brush of his mouth lingered. Another flutter disrupted my heartbeat. Cool, calm, collected. I steeled my spine and faced Ricardo again with a smile. “I’m ready.” If the first half of the shoot was a disaster, the second half was a revelation. Whatever had been blocking me unstuck, and Ricardo’s rapid shutter clicks filled the studio with renewed enthusiasm. Snap. Snap. Snap. And we were done. I hadn’t moved more than a few inches the entire time, yet my heart thundered like I’d just ran the New York Marathon. “Perfect! You are stunning, darling, despite the, ah, rocky start.” Ricardo winked at me. “You were made for the camera. The final photos are going to be gorgeous!” “Thank you,” I murmured, but I barely heard the rest of his gushing. My eyes searched the stark white room until they found Christian. He stood in the back corner. Still on a business call, still gorgeous in his suit and tie, and still watching me with those eyes of whiskey over ice. Despite the phone pressed to his ear and the hungry stares of every woman and several men in the room pinned on him, he didn’t look away when I gave him a playful wink and smile. It was an off-the-cuff, in-the-moment sort of thing, and not the type of action I’d usually take with a man I had barely even kissed. But I was riding high after the shoot, and Christian was so composed all the time I wanted to knock him off-kilter. Just once, just a little bit.
Nothing, however, could’ve prepared me for the devastation his lazy, answering smile wrought on my heart. The butterflies lying dormant in my stomach went crazy, and I suddenly knew, with all the certainty in the world, that they were there to stay.
21
STELLA
That night, absent of any other plans, I accompanied Christian to dinner at his friend Dante’s house. I’d met Dante before the night of the blizzard, but I’d forgotten how intimidating he was.
Even in a simple black shirt and pants, he commanded authority in a way that was different from Christian but equally as powerful. Christian was a finely honed assassin’s blade sheathed in velvet; Dante was a hammer burning bright with deadly intent. Lethal and striking, with no ambiguity as to the damage he could inflict if crossed. His fiancée Vivian, on the other hand, was open-faced and friendly, with beautiful dark eyes and a warm smile. Strangely enough, she was quick to grace everyone with that smile except Dante. The engaged pair hadn’t looked at each other once since Christian and I arrived. “I didn’t realize you were dating Christian when I met you.” Dante’s deep voice pulled me away from my curiosity and sent a pleasurable shiver
down my spine. Italian accents. They did it for me every time. “Now it makes sense.” He bestowed a hard stare at Christian, who yawned. For two people who claimed to be friends, they didn’t act particularly friendly toward each other. “What makes sense?” I asked. “How distracted he’s been lately.” Dante swirled his wine in his glass. “Wouldn’t you agree, Christian?”
“My record profits this quarter say otherwise,” Christian drawled. He rested a hand on my thigh, the touch so casual yet possessive it sent heat arrowing to my core. “It’s not your business that’s in trouble,” Dante said dryly. Christian stared back at him with as much interest as someone listening to an insurance sales pitch. He rubbed his thumb over my bare skin. Softly, just once, but it was enough to cloud my thoughts.
I was so focused on the warm pressure of his hand I couldn’t focus on anything else, not even the delicious food. What is wrong with me? I’d never lost my head over a guy like this. It was disconcerting. Vivian cut through the brewing tension with a well-timed interruption. “You and Stella make a beautiful couple.” She shot him an amused glance. “I never thought I’d see the day when Christian Harper would get a girlfriend.” “Neither did I, but Stella took me by surprise.”
The reply was so warm and intimate, I almost believed it. My heart rate kicked up as the butterflies in my stomach went wild again. I took a big gulp of wine to calm them down. It’s just for show. It’s not real. Christian donned casual affection as easily as he did one of his suits.
There was no reason to believe his actions were anything more than playing into our ruse.
Other than our almost but not really kiss two weeks ago, he’d never indicated he wanted us to be real. Sure, he’d gone above and beyond when it came to the stalker, but that was literally a matter of life and death. It didn’t mean he liked me. Attracted to me? Possibly, but I didn’t think he wanted anything more than sex. My head spun. Everything felt too confusing after he kissed me today, even if it had just been to distract me from my nerves. I firmly believed that if someone showed you who they were, believe them. And Christian had indicated time and time again that he wasn’t interested in a real relationship. The day people stopped thinking they could change someone who didn’t want to be changed was the day fewer hearts got broken. I wanted a real relationship one day, but I did not think for a second I could ever change Christian Harper. It’s just for show. It’s not real. Luckily, the tension blanketing the table gradually dissolved as dinner went on, drowned by good drinks and good food. By the time the entrée rolled around, even Vivian and Dante were talking to each other, though their conversations consisted mainly of asking the other to pass the food.
But no matter who was speaking, half of my attention remained tuned into Christian. He sat inches to my right, his presence a living, breathing distraction that crowded my lungs and clouded my thoughts. Easy smiles, teasing drawls, and skin gilded gold by the dim lighting and wine-fueled haze. It was my first time seeing him in such a relaxed group setting, and I finally understood how people could get sucked into his charm and underestimate him. For all his care and concern toward me, I’d never once doubted the ruthlessness that lay beneath his civilized veneer. But here, watching him laugh and joke with effortless grace, I almost believed he was nothing more than a wealthy playboy with only money and good times on his mind. Christian turned to answer a question from Vivian, but his thumb made another slow sweep over my skin.