It’s just for show. It’s not real. A tiny bead of sweat formed on my forehead. I was wearing a sleeveless dress, but I was burning up. “How did you and Christian meet?” I asked Dante, both
to distract from Christian’s touch and because I was truly curious. I hadn’t met any of Christian’s other friends （Brock and Kage didn’t count since they worked for him）， and I was dying to know their backstory. “I was his first client.” Dante leaned back in his chair. “He was a kid fresh out of college—” “You’re three years older than me,” Christian cut in. Our host ignored him. “I took a chance on him. Best and worst decision I ever made.” “Worst?” Christian scoffed. “Do you remember what happened in Rome?” He turned to me while Dante rolled his eyes. “We were transporting jewels to a new store in the city…” A smile tugged on my lips as he told the story about how he prevented the Russo Group from losing millions of dollars worth of diamonds. Not because the story was funny, but because Christian was the most unguarded I’d ever seen him.
He was so calculated and in control all the time that seeing him relax around friends was like getting a peek behind the curtain at the real him. It was nice.
Better than nice. If he acted this way all the time… I took another gulp of wine before I finished my thought. Don’t go there. “If there’s one thing you should know about him, Stella,” Dante said after he finished. “It’s that he has an overinflated sense of self-importance. We could’ve handled the jewels situation without his help.” “Trust me, I know.” A laugh rose in my throat when Christian slid a half-amused, half-exasperated glance in my direction. “Whose side are you on?”
“Easy.” I grinned. “Dante’s.” The table broke into laughter while he squeezed my thigh and leaned closer until his mouth grazed my ear. My pulse skipped. “Not very girlfriend-like of you,”
he murmured. “If you can’t handle a little teasing, you’re not ready for a girlfriend,” I whispered back. His laughter wound through me like a ribbon of dark velvet. I relaxed into my seat with a lingering smile. The teasing, the joking, the opening up about his past （even if it was work-related）…we almost felt like a real couple. After dinner, Vivian took me on a tour of the penthouse while Dante and Christian discussed business. Christian’s house was all clean lines and modern minimalism, but the Russos’ was a tasteful ode to decadence. Rich velvets, lush silks, and beautifully cut porcelain, all arranged in a manner that was extravagant but never tacky. The only thing that looked out of place was the hideous painting in their art gallery. I had great respect for all creative works, but honestly, that piece looked like a cat had vomited all over the canvas. “I don’t know why Dante bought that.” Vivian sounded embarrassed. “He usually has more discerning taste.” The compliment came out grudgingly, like she was reluctant to ascribe any positive qualities to her fiancé. I suppressed the urge to ask what happened between them. It was rude to pry into other people’s business, especially when they were my hosts and I’d just met them.
We almost made it back to the dining room when we heard voices drifting from a crack in Dante’s office door. “…can’t keep Magda forever,” Dante said. “You should be glad I didn’t throw it in the trash after the stunt you pulled with Vivian and Heath.” Vivian froze while my brow knit with confusion. Who are Magda and Heath? What stunt? “It’s a fucking painting, not a wild animal.” Christian sounded bored. “As for Vivian, it’s been months, and it worked out fine. Let it go. If you’re still pissed, you shouldn’t have invited me to dinner.” “Be glad things worked out fine with Vivian,” Dante said coldly. “If—” He stopped when Vivian coughed, her face inexplicably red. A second later, the door flung open, revealing a surprised Dante and an impassive Christian. “I see you’ve finished the tour early.” Dante’s dry tone cut through the ensuing silence. A faint blush colored his cheekbones as he flicked his gaze at a silent Vivian.
“Sorry.” My own cheeks warmed at being caught eavesdropping. “We were on our way to the dining room and heard…” I trailed off, not wanting to confirm we’d been listening in on his conversation even though that was clearly what we’d been doing. “We were just wrapping up,”
Christian said smoothly. There was no hint of the ire I’d heard earlier. “Dante, Vivian, it’s been lovely.” I said my goodbyes as well, and we rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence. But when we reached the sidewalk, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “What’s Magda?” Now that we’d left the Russos, I didn’t bother pretending I hadn’t heard them. Christian had said it was a painting, but I didn’t understand why Dante was holding it for him. Christian didn’t even like art.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” His curt reply was chillier than the crisp evening air swirling around us. The warm, easygoing Christian from dinner was gone, replaced by his aloof twin once more. I tried again. “What stunt did you pull with Vivian and Heath?” Also, who the hell is Heath? Normally, I wasn’t this nosy, but tonight was my best shot at getting Christian to open up.
He’d revealed a sliver of what he was like behind his perfect mask earlier; I just needed to dig deeper. “Also nothing you need to worry about.” “That’s not an answer.” We arrived at his building, which was only a few blocks from Dante’s place. “You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you,” I added. “How is that fair?” “You know plenty about me.” Christian nodded at the doorman, who tipped his hat in greeting. “Where I live, where I work, how I take my coffee in the morning.” “Everyone can find those things out with a simple Google search. I just want—” “Drop it, Stella.” There was no guise of gentleness anymore, only the sharp slice of a blade shredding me into ribbons. “I don’t want to talk about it.” My jaw tensed. “Fine.” Despite my cool reply, frustration bubbled hot and unchecked inside my veins. 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.